"BREAKING UP" AN ELEPHANT.

The manner in which the elephant is cut up is as follows:-The rough outer skin is first removed, in large sheets, from the side which lies uppermost. Several coats of an under skin are then met with. This skin is of a tough and pliant nature, and is used by the natives for making water-bags, in which they convey supplies of water from the nearest vley or fountain (which is often ten miles distant) to the elephant. They remove this inner skin with caution, taking care not to cut it with the assagai; and it is formed into water-bags by gathering the corners and edges, and transfixing the whole on a pointed wand. The flesh is then removed in enormous sheets from the ribs, when the hatchets come into play, with which they chop through, and remove individually, each colossal rib. The bowels are thus laid bare; and in the removal of these the leading men take a lively interest and active part, for it is throughout and around the bowels that the fat of the elephant is mainly found.

There are few things which a Bechuana prizes so highly as fat of any description; they will go an amazing distance for a small portion of it. They use it principally in cooking their sun-dried biltongue, and they also eat it with their corn. The fat of the elephant lies in extensive layers and sheets in his inside, and the quantity which is obtained from a full-grown bull, in high condition, is very great. Before it can be obtained, the greater part of the bowels must be removed. To accomplish this, several men eventually enter the immense cavity of his inside, where they continue mining away with their assagais, and handing the fat to their comrades outside until all is bare. While this is transpiring with the sides and bowels, other parties are equally active in removing the skin and flesh from the remaining parts of the carcase. The natives have a horrid practice on these occasions of besmearing their bodies, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, with the black and clotted gore; and in this anointing they assist one another, each man taking up the fill of both his hands, and spreading it over the back and shoulders of his friend. Throughout the entire proceeding an incessant and deafening clamour of many voices and confused sounds is maintained, and violent jostling and wrestling are practised by every man, elbowing the breasts and countenances of his fellows, all slippery with gore, as he endeavours to force his way to the venison through the dense intervening ranks, while the sharp and ready assagai gleams in every hand. The angry voices and gory appearances of these naked savages, combined with their excited and frantic gestures and glistening arms, presented an effect so wild and striking, that when I first beheld the scene I contemplated it in the momentary expectation of beholding one-half of the gathering turn their weapons against the other.

The trunk and feet are considered a delicacy, and a detachment are employed on these. The four feet are amputated at the fetlock joint,

and the trunk, which at the base is about two feet in thickness, is cut into convenient lengths. Trunk and feet are then baked, preparatory to their removal to head-quarters. The manner in which this is done is as follows:-A party, provided with sharp-pointed sticks, dig a hole in the ground for each foot and a portion of the trunk. These holes are about two feet deep, and a yard in width; the excavated earth is embanked around the margin of the hole. This work being completed, they next collect an immense quantity of dry branches and trunks of trees, of which there is always a profusion scattered around, having been broken by the elephants in former years. These they pile above the holes to the height of eight or nine feet, and then set fire to the heap. When these strong fires have burnt down, and the whole of the wood is reduced to ashes, the holes and the surrounding earth are heated in a high degree. Ten or twelve men then stand round the pit, and rake out the ashes with a pole about sixteen feet in length, having a hook at the end. They relieve one another in quick succession, each man running in and raking the ashes for a few seconds, and then pitching the pole to his comrade and retreating, since the heat is so intense that it is scarcely to be endured. When all the ashes are thus raked out beyond the surrounding bank of earth, each elephant's foot and portion of the trunk is lifted by two athletic men, standing side by side, who place i on their shoulders; and approaching the pit together they heave it into it. The long pole is now again resumed, and with they shove in the heated bank of earth upon the foot, shoving and raking until it is completely buried in the earth. The hot embers, of which there is always a great supply, are then raked into a heap above the foot, and another bonfire is kindled over each, which is allowed to burn down and die a natural death; by which time the enormous foot or trunk will be found to be equally baked throughout its inmost parts. When the foot is supposed to be ready, it is taken out of the ground with pointed sticks, and is first well beaten, and then scraped with an assagai, whereby adhering particles of sand are got rid of. The outside is then pared off, and it is transfixed with a sharp stake for facility of carriage.

The feet thus cooked are excellent, as is also the trunk, which very much resembles buffalo's tongue. The reason why such large fires are requisite is owing to the mass of the flesh that must be baked. In raking the sand on the foot, the natives are careful not to rake the redhot embers in with it, which would burn and destroy the meat; whereas the sand or earth protects it, imparting an even and steady heat. When the natives have cut up the elephant, and removed the large masses of flesh, &c., to their respective temporary kraals around, they sit down for a little to rest and draw their breath, and for a short time smoking and snuffing are indulged in.-From Mr. Gordon Cumming's Hunter's Life.

LITERATURE.

THE

LECTURES ON THE FORM AND ACTION OF THE HORSE, AND EFFECTS OF MEDICINE ON HORSES. By W. PERCIVALL, M.R.C.S., and Veterinary Surgeon 1st Life Guards.

This very clever work would have been noticed last month had it reached our hand in time.

We ever feel gratification when we can award our meed of commendation with impartial justice to the work of any author, and the former productions of Mr. Percivall fully warranted us in anticipating such gratification on receiving the present volume emanating from the

same source.

The first part of these lectures is not confined to pathological observations, but treats of matters interesting to every owner of the horse; its chief aim is to ascertain how far form may be depended on with something like certainty, as promising or indicating action in the horse.

The second part treats of the kind of action calculated to ensure safety, powers of endurance, and speed in the different paces of the animal.

The concluding part acquaints us with the effects of different medicines on the horse; and this possesses the somewhat unusual merit of being told us in terms and language perfectly clear to the non-professional reader.

The first and second parts of these lectures are illustrated by some admirably executed engraved outlines of horses in different attitudes and states of progression, from designs from Mr. Lawrence.

All Mr. Percivall's works, like those of most men of sense and talent, are written in an unassuming style, totally devoid of ostentation or attempt at display. We always appreciate the good taste, good judgment, and absence of self-sufficiency in an author, where he brings forward the opinions of men of known ability as corroborative of his own. Mr. Percivall does so particularly in these lectures; and, in virtue of our office as reviewers of it, this is the only part of it that does not meet our unqualified approbation, or that could have been omitted without prejudice to the work.

We will not particularize the professors whose opinions Mr. Percivall quotes; doubtless they were high authority in their day, but there is no branch of the medical professional that has so largely shared in the march of intellect during the last forty years as that of veterinary practice. And Mr. Percivall, in his veneration for the high standing of professors of olden times, seems to overlook the fact that such stars would show but very dimly in our present enlightened professional hemisphere. It is now our province to judge of St. Bel's skill as a professor; doubtless, it was first-rate at the time; but this we do know-that when and where he treats on matters relative to race-horses or hunters that are not strictly professional, no man has made more mistakes that has St. Bel.

We are quite sure Mr. Percivall will take our hint in good part; and