The ivory king

The lion and tiger share the time-honored term of king of beasts; their courage, intrepid natures, majestic bearing, and record for ferocity, having earned them the title, in the estimation of many. But, when compared to the elephant, these noble animals are mere pretenders. The elephant is the true king, the monarch of the land in size and strength, and capable, when thoroughly enraged, of toying with the tiger or lion. Rarely does an elephant fall a victim to either of these animals, and then only in their extreme youth. An instance is recorded by Sanderson which was considered so remarkable that he made a long trip to the place to verify it.

The elephant was a mere baby,—a calf four and a half feet at the shoulder, and weighing, perhaps, six hundred pounds. It had wandered off into the jungle, where it was pounced upon by the man-eater; falling an easy victim, as its legs were tied to each other. The tiger had sprung upon it, seizing it by the throat as it would a bullock, and dragged it twenty or thirty feet, there feasting upon its quarters.

Another instance is recorded of a hobbled, or tied, elephant being attacked by a man-eater; but the animal’s cries attracted the attention of the keeper, and it was saved.

An animal so powerful as the elephant would naturally afford the grandest sport to the hunter; and, in following the great game, more dangers are incurred, and risks run, than in any known chase.

We have seen, that, in trapping elephants, every attempt is made to preserve them from injury: but, in hunting them for mere sport, this is reversed; and the animal is followed, either on foot or horseback, and shot as quickly as possible. This is often a most dangerous operation, and accompanied by the death of hunter and attendants. In trapping elephants, the men have the fences to retreat to, and tame elephants to hide behind; but the true sportsman follows the game into its own haunts, the deepest jungle, and boldly faces it, giving the noble creature an even chance for its life.

Sir Samuel Baker and Sanderson both say that elephant-shooting is the most dangerous of all sports if fairly followed for a length of time. Many elephants may be killed without the sportsman being in any peril; but, if an infuriated beast does make an attack, its charge is one of supreme danger. The risk has this charm, that, though so great unless steadily and skilfully met, it is within the sportsman’s power, by coolness and good shooting, to end it and the assailant’s career by one well-planted ball.

The wild elephant’s attack is one of the noblest sights of the chase, and a grander animated object than a wild elephant in full charge can hardly be imagined. The cocked ears and broad forehead present an immense frontage. The head is held high, with the trunk coiled between the tusks, to be uncoiled in the moment of attack. The massive fore-legs come down with the force and regularity of ponderous machinery; and the whole figure is rapidly foreshortened, and appears to double in size with each advancing stride. The trunk being doubled, and unable to emit any sound, the attack is made in silence, and after the usual premonitory shriek, which adds to its impressiveness. (See Plate XXIII.) [Transcriber’s Note: There is no Plate XXIII. Possibly Plate XVI. is meant, from the description in this paragraph.]

In former times the natives hunted the elephant with what are called jinjalls,—nothing more nor less than small cannon weighing about forty-five pounds, and mounted on a tripod-stand or carriage. The bullet used was of lead, weight about half a pound, and propelled by half a pound of native powder. Each hunting-party was fitted out with one of these, which was borne on a pole by four men,—two men carrying the gun itself, one the stand, while the fourth was the captain, who did the aiming and firing.

When the game was discovered by these pot-hunters, the gun was placed about three feet from the ground, aimed at any portion of the body, and fired. A fuze was generally used; and, igniting this, the valiant sportsmen ran away as fast as possible,—indeed, for their lives, as the cannon usually kicked completely over: and often limbs were broken, and other accidents occurred, the result of tardiness in retreating.

These guns were usually fatal at ninety or one hundred feet; and the unfortunate brutes rarely escaped if hit, often being desperately wounded. As many as five or six have been taken in this way, during the time that the Madras Government offered thirty dollars a head for them, to reduce their numbers; and elephant-hunting became a lucrative business, adopted by every one who could buy a jinjall.

The weapons now used in elephant-hunting are rifles; and the heaviest bore that can be carried with convenience is generally none too large, though Sir Samuel Baker usually used a light gun; this being, however, because he could not shoot with a heavy one.

The larger the gun, the less opportunity there is of game escaping, to die a lingering death; and this generally decides the true sportsman. During the last decade, twelve-bore rifles were greatly used (1½ oz. ball), but these are rarely seen now. Sanderson, one of the best living authorities on the subject of hunting the Asiatic elephant, killed several of his first elephants with a No. 12 spherical-ball rifle with hard bullets and six drachms of powder. But this he discarded for a No. 4 double smooth bore, C. F., weighing nineteen and a half pounds, built by W. W. Greener. With this he fires twelve drachms of powder. Another gun, a No. 8 double rifle, firing twelve drachms, and weighing seventeen pounds, same make, he recommends, having stopped several charging elephants with it. No game in America requires such heavy arms, but the huge elephant demands weapons in proportion to its size.

In the majority of animals, a shot in any vital part is sufficient to disable them to some extent: but, in Asiatic-elephant shooting, there are only three shots that can be depended upon; and the sportsman must be somewhat well acquainted with the anatomy of the animal to successfully make them. The three vulnerable spots are the front, the bullet striking the forehead; the side, or temple; and the rear, or behind the ear. The brain of the animal is the mark; and it is so small in proportion to the rest of the skull, that a slight change of position, either raising or depressing the head, will render the shot futile. This can be seen by examining a section of an elephant’s skull. (See Plate I.)

The elephant sportsman usually makes elaborate preparations for the sport, taking a sufficient number of natives, servants, and trackers, with provisions to stay in the field some time; and only after some practice can he approach a herd, and pick out his shot, with any feeling of confidence.

The true hunter disregards the females, seeking the old tuskers; and to approach a herd without giving the alarm requires great caution, and not a little experience. The great game is generally found moving gradually in a given direction, feeding as they go. If they are approached from the wind, they scent danger from afar: but the experienced hunter creeps up against the wind, and ordinary caution enables him to approach within thirty or forty feet,—quite near enough, my readers would think, when one knows, that, upon the first shot, the entire herd will charge madly in any and every direction. The old tuskers, the heads of the family, rarely cover the retreat of a herd when an attack is made, usually starting off on their own account, leaving the others to look out for themselves.

When the presence of the hunter is realized, the one who makes the discovery informs the rest by a “peculiar short, shrill trumpet,” understood by old hunters as well. The herd immediately cease feeding, all standing perfectly still, probably using their ears and scent, or perhaps making up their minds which way to go. The next movement differs in different cases. Sometimes the herd charge wildly in any direction; sometimes in a body; or, again, they move with such remarkable celerity and silence, that even old hunters have been deceived.

This peculiarity of the elephant, the largest of living land animals, is extremely remarkable. How such a huge body can make its way through bamboo and jungle so gently, is hard to imagine; but often, after the first rapid rush, there is absolute silence; and the novice comes to a stand-still, thinking that the game has followed suit. On the contrary, the headlong charge of the herd has been changed to a rapid walk, so silent, that persons in very close proximity to a band making off in this way, have failed to hear even the boughs and bushes scraping against the thick hide.

A charging herd will soon overtake a man, especially if he runs up-hill; and the appearance of a mass of bobbing heads and elevated ears moving forward through the jungle, is quite sufficient to unnerve the majority of men. When a charge is made, the natives rush for trees or clumps of bamboos, or often escape by standing still, so small an object being passed by in the fury of the rush.

Exactly what a herd will do when attacked, it is impossible to say. If they have never heard a shot before, they often huddle together in the greatest alarm, and do not break and charge until the continued firing and appearance of smoke thoroughly alarms them. They perhaps think the noise is thunder until the continued repetition disabuses them of the idea.

Elephants, when standing in this undecided manner, are liable to outbursts of fury if not treated in a certain way. Sanderson says, “At such times no one should shout to turn them, as a charge by one or more is sure to be made if startled in this peculiar way. I have seen and experienced several instances of the danger of this. In Chittagong, whilst driving elephants into a stockade on one occasion, they approached the guiding line of beaters too closely, when a man who was behind a small bush shouted at them within thirty yards. A female at once charged him. The man fell; and with the pressure of her foot she split him open, and killed him on the spot. This elephant had a very young calf, from solicitude of which she became a perfect fury.”

Contrary to general belief, the single, or solitary, tuskers afford the greatest sport. They are generally found away from the herd before nine o’clock in the morning, and at this time the hunter endeavors to find them. When a great distance from a herd, the solitary elephant ceases feeding at about ten, then stands listlessly a while under cover, and finally lies down and goes to sleep. As a rule, it snores quite loudly; the sound, which has a metallic ring to it, coming from the trunk. Besides this, they often, perhaps involuntarily, raise their upper ear, and let it fall with a resounding slap upon the neck. All these sounds are well known to the trackers; and, by them, they can tell just what to expect, and how far away the game which is concealed in the jungle is.

If a bed recently used is found by the trackers, they immediately look for tusk-holes, or the impressions of the tusks in the soil, made when the animal is lying down. If they can put five fingers in the hole, they consider that the tusks will weigh thirty pounds apiece, and are well worth following.

Sanderson thus describes a hunt organized for his benefit in the Billiga-rungun hills, not far from Mysore: “I kept my eye on the tusker, who was in the middle of the line, and was wondering how I could get a shot at his brain, when, as luck would have it, some vegetable attraction overhead tempted him, and he raised his head to reach it with his trunk. I had beforehand fixed the fatal spot in my mind’s eye; and, catching sight of his temple, I fired. For a moment I could see nothing, for the smoke, but heard a tremendous commotion amongst the elephants that were in company with the tusker. Stepping a little aside, I saw their huge heads all turning towards me, their ears outspread, and their trunks coiled up in terrified astonishment. Being a novice in the sport, I felt for the moment that I was in real danger. I stood my ground however, determined, that, if any of them charged, to fire at the foremost, and to run to Jaffer for the second rifle: that failing, the case would have been rather bad. However, charging was far from their thoughts: right about! quick march! was more to their fancy; and with shrieks and trumpets, away they went, some to the right, some to the left, joined by the whole herd in one headlong race, up or down the nullah. But my tusker remained stone dead upon his knees. The triumph of such a success, utterly unassisted, and in my first inexperienced attempt, quite transported me. My bullet had reached the tusker’s brain: and, in sinking down, he must have been supported by the bodies and legs of the elephants between which he was wedged in; thus he still remained on his knees, though quite dead. He retained this kneeling position for some minutes, when, by a gradual subsidence of the carcass, he heeled over, and fell heavily on his side. I narrowly escaped being crushed between him and the bank as he sank, just springing out of the way in time. It would have been a fine thing indeed, if, after bagging my first elephant, I had fallen a victim to the collapse of his carcass.”

The largest elephant shot by this sportsman measured as follows:—

At the end of a successful trip, when such an elephant has been shot, the sportsman is disposed to be liberal to the trackers; and the following is what Sanderson gave his men:—

On one occasion, this hunter was following a herd, when two Kurrabas ahead of him began to gesticulate furiously; and, running ahead, he almost lost his life. He says, “Not knowing what to make of this, except that there was an elephant somewhere in the grass, I ran on, and almost fell into an old and disused pitfall, which now contained an elephant. His head was a little above the level of the ground. As I stepped back quickly, he threw his fore-feet on to the bank, and tried to reach me with his tusks. The whole occurrence was so sudden and unexpected, and his rush so startling, that I instinctively pulled the trigger of my four-bore rifle from my hip as I stepped back: there was no time to bring it to my shoulder. The shot went through the base of his right tusk, and buried itself deeply in his neck. He fell backwards; but, recovering himself, he commenced dashing his head with great violence against the sides of the pit in his stupefaction. I therefore took a light gun from Jaffer, and killed him.” The elephant had fallen into the pit some time before, and the herd had immediately deserted it, as, says Sanderson, they always do.

In following wild elephants, sportsmen often have favorable opportunities to observe the habits and customs of the great game in their native wilds; and on such an occasion a fight between two tuskers was witnessed. Such an instance is recorded in the following: “We ran towards the place where the sounds of contest were increasing every moment: a deep ravine at last only separated us from the combatants, and we could see the tops of the bamboos bowing as the monsters bore each other backwards and forwards with a crashing noise in their tremendous struggles. As we ran along the bank of the nullah to find a crossing, one elephant uttered a deep roar of pain, and crossed the nullah some forty yards in advance of us to our side. Here he commenced to destroy a bamboo clump (the bamboos in these hills have a very large hollow, and are weak and comparatively worthless) in sheer fury, grumbling deeply the while with rage and pain. Blood was streaming the while from a deep stab in his left side high up. He was a very large elephant, with long and fairly thick tusks, and with much white above the forehead: the left tusk was some inches shorter than the right. The opponent of this Goliath must have been a monster indeed, to have worsted him.

“An elephant-fight, if the combatants are well matched, frequently lasts for a day or more, a round being fought every now and then. The beaten elephant retreats temporarily, followed leisurely by the other, until, by mutual consent, they meet again. The more powerful elephant occasionally keeps his foe in view till he perhaps kills him: otherwise the beaten elephant takes himself off for good on finding he has the worst of it. Tails are frequently bitten off in these encounters. This mutilation is common amongst rogue elephants, and amongst the females in a herd. In the latter case, it is generally the result of rivalry amongst themselves.

“The wounded tusker was evidently the temporarily beaten combatant of the occasion; and I have seldom seen such a picture of power and rage as he presented, mowing the bamboos down with trunk and tusks, and bending the thickest part over with his fore-feet. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed: he backed from the clump, and stood like a statue. Not a sound broke the stillness for an instant. His antagonist was silent, wherever he was. Now the tip of his trunk came slowly round in our direction, and I saw that we were discovered to his fine sense of smell. We had been standing silently behind a thin bamboo clump, watching him; and, when I first saw that he had winded us, I imagined that he might take himself off. But his frenzy quite overcame all fear for the moment. Forward went his ears, and up went his tail, in a way which no one who has once seen the signal in a wild elephant can mistake the significance of; and in the same instant he wheeled about with astonishing swiftness, getting at once into full speed, and bore down upon us. The bamboos, by which we were partly hidden, were useless as a cover, and would have prevented a clear shot: so I slipped out into open ground. The instant the elephant commenced his charge, I gave a shout, hoping to stop him, which failed. I had my No. 4 double smooth bore, loaded with ten drachms, in hand. I fired when the elephant was about nine paces off, aiming into his coiled trunk about one foot above the fatal bump between the eyes; as his head was held very high, and this allowance had to be made for its elevation. I felt confident of the shot, but made a grand mistake in not giving him both barrels. It was useless to reserve the left, as I did, at such close quarters; and I deserved more than what followed for doing so. The smoke from the ten drachms obscured the elephant, and I stepped quickly to see where he lay. Good Heavens! he had not been even checked, and was upon me. There was no time to step to right or left. His tusks came through the smoke (his head being now held low) like the cow-catcher of a locomotive, and I had just time to fall flat to avoid being hurled in front of him. I fell a little to the right. The next instant down came his ponderous foot within a few inches of my left thigh; and I should have been trodden upon had I not been quick enough, when I saw the fore-foot coming, to draw my leg from the sprawling position in which I fell. As the elephant rushed over me, he shrieked shrilly, which showed his trunk was uncoiled; and his head also being held low, instead of in a charging position, I rightly inferred that he was in full flight. Had he stopped, I should have been caught; but the heavy bullet had taken all the fight out of him. Jaffer had been disposed of by a recoiling bamboo, and was now lying almost in the elephant’s line. Fortunately, however, the brute held on. I was covered with blood from the wound inflicted by his late antagonist in his left side: even my hair was matted together when the blood became dry. How it was that I did not bag the elephant, I can’t tell.”

A good idea of the excitement and sport of elephant-hunting is obtained from the following account, from the pen of Sir Victor Brooke, of a hunt participated in by him and Col. Douglas Hamilton in the Billiga-rungun hills. The adventure is particularly interesting, as the tusks were the largest ever taken in India:—

“In July, 1863, Col. Douglas Hamilton and I were shooting in the Hássanoor hills, Southern India. We had had excellent sport, but, until the date of the death of the big tusker, had not come across any elephants. Upon the morning of that day, in the jungles to the east of the Hássanoor bungalow, we had tracked up a fine tusker, which, partly from over-anxiety, and partly, I must confess, from the effect on my nervous system of the presence of the first wild bull elephant I had ever seen, I failed to bag. About mid-day I was lying on my bed, chewing the cud of vexation, and inwardly vowing terrible vengeance on the next tusker I might meet, when two natives came in to report a herd of elephants in a valley some three or four miles to the north of our camp. To prepare ourselves was the work of a few seconds. As we arrived on the ridge overlooking the valley where the elephants were, we heard the crackling of bamboos, and occasionally caught sight of the track of an elephant as it crossed a break amongst the confused mass of tree-tops upon which we were gazing. Presently one of the elephants trumpeted loudly, which attracted the attention of some people herding cattle on the opposite side of the valley, who, seeing us, and divining our intentions, yelled out, ‘Ánay! ánay!’ (elephants) at the top of their voices, in the hope, no doubt, of receiving reward for their untimely information. The effect of these discordant human cries was magical. Every matted clump seemed to heave and shake, and vomit forth an elephant. With marvellous silence and quickness the huge beasts marshalled themselves together; and, by the time they appeared on the more open ground of the open valley, a mighty cavalcade was formed, which, once seen, can never be forgotten. There were about eighty elephants in the herd. Towards the head of the procession was a noble bull with a pair of tusks such as are seldom seen in India nowadays. Following him in a direct line came a medley of elephants of lower degree,—bulls, cows, and calves of every size, some of the latter frolicking with comic glee, and running in among the legs of their elders with the utmost confidence. It was truly a splendid sight; and I really believe, that, while it lasted, neither Col. Hamilton nor I entertained any feeling but that of intense admiration and wonder. At length this great exhibition was, we believed, over; and we were commencing to arrange our mode of attack when that hove in sight which called forth an ejaculation of astonishment from each one of us. Striding along thoughtfully in the rear of the herd, many of the members of which were doubtless his children and his children’s children, came a mighty bull, the like of which neither of my companions after many years of jungle experience, nor the natives who were with us, had ever seen before. But it was not merely the stature of the noble beast that astonished us; for that, though great, could not be considered unrivalled. It was the sight of his enormous tusks, which projected like a gleam of light through the grass, through which he was slowly wending his way, that held us rooted to the spot. With an almost solemn expression of countenance, Col. Hamilton turned to me, and said, ‘There’s the largest tusker in India, old boy; and, come what may, you must get him, and take his tusk to Ireland with you.’ It was in vain that I expostulated with my dear old friend, recalling my morning’s mishap, and reminding him, that, in jungle laws, it stands written, ‘Shot turn and turn about at elephants.’ It was of no avail. ‘You must bag that tusker,’ was all the answer I could get.

“It took us but a short time to run down the slope, and to find the track which swept like a broad avenue along the bed of the valley. Cautiously we followed it up, and, after about a quarter of a mile, came upon the elephants. They were standing in perfect silence around the borders of a small glade, in the middle of which stood the great tusker, quite alone, and broadside to us. He was about fifty yards from us, and therefore out of all elephant-shooting range; but the difficulty was to shorten the distance. The approach direct was impossible, owing to the absolute want of cover: so, after some deliberation, we decided on working to the right, and endeavoring to creep up behind a solitary tree, which stood about twenty yards behind the elephant. When within ten yards of this tree, we found to our annoyance a watchful old cow, who was not farther than fifteen yards from us, and to our right, and had decided suspicions of our proximity. To attempt to gain another foot would have been to run the risk of disturbing the elephants. Seeing this, and knowing the improbability of our ever getting the bull outside the herd again, Col. Hamilton recommended me to creep a little to the left, so as to get the shot behind his ear, and to try the effect of my big Purdy rifle, while he kept his eye on the old cow in case her curiosity should induce her to become unpleasant. I should mention that we now, for the first time, perceived that the old bull had only one perfect tusk, the left one being a mere stump, projecting but little beyond the upper lip. I accordingly followed Col. Hamilton’s instructions. At the shot, the old bull, with a shrill trumpet of pain and rage, swung around on his hind-legs as on a pivot, receiving my second barrel, and two from Col. Hamilton. This staggered the old fellow dreadfully; and, as he stood facing us, Col. Hamilton ran up within twelve yards of him with a very large single-bore rifle, and placed a bullet between his eyes. Had the rifle been as good as it was big, I believe this would have ended the fray; but, though its shock produced a severe momentary effect, the bullet had, as we afterwards ascertained, only penetrated three or four inches into the cancellous tissue of the frontal bone. After swaying backwards and forwards for a moment or two, during which I gave him both barrels of my second rifle, the grand old beast seemed to rally all his forces, and, rolling up his trunk, and sticking his tail in the air, rushed off trumpeting, and whistling like a steam-engine.

“Col. Hamilton followed, and fired two more barrel-shots, while I remained behind to reload the empty rifles. This completed, I joined my friend, whom I found standing in despair at the edge of a small ravine overgrown with tangled underwood, into which the tusker had disappeared. For some little time I found it difficult to persuade Col. Hamilton to continue the chase. Long experience had taught him how rarely elephants once alarmed are met with a second time the same day. At length, however, finding that I was determined to follow the tracks of the noble beast until I lost them, even should it involve sleeping upon them, my gallant old friend gave way, and entered eagerly into a pursuit which at the time he considered almost, if not absolutely, useless. It would be tedious, even if it were possible, to describe all the details of the long, stern chase which followed. After emerging from the thorny ravine into which the elephant had disappeared, the tracks led over a series of extensive open grassy glades, crossed the Mysore-Hássanoor road beyond the seventh milestone, and then followed the deep, sandy bed of a dry river for a considerable distance. At length, when about nine weary miles had been left behind us, we began to remark signs of the elephant having relaxed a little in its direct onward flight. His tracks commenced to zigzag backwards and forwards in an undecided manner, and finally led down a steep, grassy slope into a densely matted, thorny jungle bordering a small stream at its foot. I was the first to arrive at the edge of the thicket, and without waiting for my companions, who were out of sight, followed the tracks cautiously into it. I soon found that it was almost impossible to track the elephant any farther. The entire thicket was traversed by a perfect labyrinth of elephant-paths, and on each path were more or less recent footprints of elephants. Giving up the idea of tracking for a moment, I was on the point of commencing a further exploration of the thicket, when a low hiss attracted my attention; and, looking around, I saw a native who had accompanied us, beckoning to me, and gesticulating to me in the most frantic manner. Upon going to him, he pointed eagerly in front of him; and, following the direction of his finger, my eyes alighted, not on the elephant as I expected, but upon Col. Hamilton, who, from behind the trunk of a small tree, was gazing intently towards the little stream, which ran not more than thirty yards from where he was standing. With the greatest care I stole to his side. ‘There he is, in front of you, standing in the stream. You had better take him at once, or he will be off again,’ were the welcome words which greeted my ears. At the same moment my eyes were gratified by the indistinct outline of the mighty bull, who, already suspicious of danger, was standing perfectly motionless in the middle of the stream, which was so narrow that the branches of the low bamboos on its banks nearly met across it. The distance, twenty-seven yards, was too great for certainty: but there was no choice; as, even if the elephant had been utterly unaware of our vicinity, the tangled, thorny nature of the dense jungle surrounding him would have rendered it impossible to approach nearer without discovery. As it was, the perfect immobility of all save his eye, and every now and then the quickly altered position of his tattered ears, showed undeniably that the chances of flight and battle were being weighed in the massive head, and that there was no time to lose. Covering the orifice of the ear with as much ease as if the shot had been at an egg at a hundred yards, I fired. A heavy crash, and the sudden expulsion of the stream from its bed ten or twelve feet into the air, followed the report; and I have a dim recollection of my old friend hugging me the next minute in his delight while he exclaimed, ‘Splendid, old boy! he’s dead, and the biggest tusker ever killed in India.’ But our work was not over yet. With one or two tremendous lurches from side to side, the old bull regained his feet, but only to be again felled by my second barrel, and this time to rise no more. The shades of evening were closing in fast, and a long journey lay between us and home, so we had but a few moments to admire the grandest trophy it has ever fallen to the lot of a sportsman to secure.”

This hunt not only shows the endurance required, but the remarkable faculty of the elephant in travelling great distances when so desperately wounded, and the necessity of the heaviest ammunition to prevent prolonged suffering in the noble animals. When an elephant has been shot in the manner described by Sir Victor, the tusks are secured as trophies, and sometimes the head and other parts. They are either cut out with an axe, or left for ten or twelve days, when they can be easily drawn out of the alveole. The lowest Mysore inhabitants will not eat elephant flesh, though they have no objection to carrion; but the Chittagong hill people eat it with avidity. The tail is also used as a trophy; while the feet are taken and upholstered as footstools, and presented to the sportsman’s lady friends. The feet of calves are converted into cigar-boxes, for the fortunate hunter’s gentleman acquaintances; while tobacco-boxes, inkstands, and various articles are also made as mementoes of the hunt.

As the elephant shot by Sir Victor Brooke had the largest tusk ever observed in an Asiatic elephant, I give the measurements:—