An elephant belonging to Mr. Boddam, of the Bengal Civil Service, at
_Gyah_, used every day to pass over a small bridge leading from his
master's house into the town of _Gyah_. He one day refused to go over
it, and it was with great difficulty, by goring him most cruelly with
the _Hunkuss_ [iron instrument], that the _Mahout_ [driver] could get
him to venture on the bridge, the strength of which he first tried with
his trunk, shewing clearly that he suspected that it was not
sufficiently strong. At last he went on, and before he could get over,
the bridge gave way, and they were precipitated into the ditch, which
killed the driver, and considerably injured the elephant. It is
reasonable to suppose that the elephant must have perceived its feeble
state when he last passed over it. It is a well known fact, that
elephants will seldom or ever go over strange bridges, without first
trying with their trunks if they be sufficiently strong to bear their
weight,--nor will they ever go into a boat without doing the same.
I had a remarkably quiet and docile elephant, which one day came home
loaded with branches of trees for provender, followed by a number of
villagers, calling for mercy (their usual cry when ill used);
complaining that the _Mahout_ had stolen a kid from them, and that it
was then on the elephant, under the branches of the trees. The _Mahout_
took an opportunity of decamping into the village and hiding himself. I
ordered the elephant to be unloaded, and was surprised to see that he
would not allow any person to come near to him, when at all other times
he was perfectly tractable and obedient. Combining all the
circumstances, I was convinced that the _Mahout_ was guilty, and to get
rid of the noise, I recompensed the people for the loss of their kid. As
soon as they were gone away, the elephant allowed himself to be
unloaded, and the kid was found under the branches, as described by the
people. I learnt from my _Sarcar_, that similar complaints had been made
to him before, and that the rascal of a _Mahout_ made it a practice to
ride the elephant into the midst of a herd of goats, and had taught him
to pick up any of the young ones he directed; he had also accustomed
him to steal their pumpions and other vegetables, that grew against the
inside of their fences like French beans, which could only be reached by
an elephant. He was the best _Mahout_ I ever knew, and so great a rogue
that I was obliged to discharge him.
The very day that he left my service, the elephant's eyes were closed,
which he did not open again in less than a fortnight, when it was
discovered that he was blind. Two small eschars, one in each eye, were
visible, which indicated pretty strongly that he had been made blind by
some sharp instrument, most probably by a heated needle. The suspicion
was very strong against the former keeper, of whom I never heard
anything after. The elephant I frequently rode on, shooting, for many
years after this, through heavy covers, intersected with ravines,
rivers, and over hollow and uneven ground, and he scarcely ever made a
false step with me, and never once tumbled. He used to touch the ground
with his trunk on every spot where his feet were to be placed, and in
so light and quick a manner as scarcely to be perceived. The _Mahout_
would often make him remove large stones, lumps of earth, or timber, out
of his way, frequently climb up and down banks that no horse could get
over. He would also occasionally break off branches of trees that were
in the way of the _Howdah_, to enable me to pass.
Although perfectly blind, he was considered one of the best sporting
elephants of his small size in the country, and he travelled at a
tolerably good rate, and was remarkably easy in his paces.