the roars were like thunder without end,—each animal was doing according to its instinct: some scratching the ground, others throwing the sand up in the air, others switching themselves in the branches and in the earth with various sounds, some were piercing the fence with their tusks. The big ones were outside and the small ones inside. Thus the area got puddled two or three cubits in depth with the treading. People now set off to tell the news at Malacca to the Governor; who came next day with Dr. Chalmers and other Europeans in carriages; and, when they had ascended the fence, they then saw the elephants going round the area trying to get out, but wherever they laid hold men beat them. They were thus kept starving for six or seven days; and as they made fierce efforts to break the fence, the Pawang now took a little stalk of plantain, and with an exorcism he threw it into the area-there was quietness by this. I then heard people remarking, What a clever Pawang that is! See how potent his exorcism is; the elephants even are afraid! But this was entirely false, for the brutes, having fasted several days, were quiet on getting something to eat, and the little ones were appeased. After the herd had been ten days in the pen a little more plantain was thrown into a trap, when an elephant would come and become entangled by the neck-the trap being fastened to a tree. On this the Pawang would enter, and hobbling it right and left, he would get it out of the pen and tether it on the hill; this was done to all. All this time he gave them neither meat nor drink, being afraid that they might have strength to break the fence or their fastenings. Even with all this precaution, his people were chased by the elephants many times, even though on the top of the fence, with frightful noises. Some got broken faces, and often did the animals try to knock down the

fence, grasping the posts with their trunks, thus shaking the whole enclosure, and if they had not been at once hit with a stick, the whole would have fallen down. Further, many of the Malays and Chinese, as well as others, believed in the Pawang's supernatural powers over elephants by his exorcisms,-all the elephants of the forests being afraid of him, so especially should mankind. On this account thousands went to buy medicine, talismans, and amulets of him. But all these are false and foolish ideas, a misfortune to the buyers and believers. All comes of sense only, not from occult art.

The end of this is that I heard that nearly all the elephants died, only six or seven having been brought to Malacca. So Colonel Farquhar and Dr. Chalmers paid the Pawang as agreed on, and the bones of the dead ones were taken by them to send to Europe."

The above is an account of an elephant hunt which took place to the eastward of Malacca during the government of Colonel Farquhar; and when in the district, in the year 1848, I found that all the older inhabitants took that event as their era for reckoning. And thus it is with all aboriginal people, they have little knowledge of the value of historical dates, so they seize for their reckoning any unusual circumstance that may have happened during their lifetimes.

Abdulla tells us that the native hunter was a Pawang Gaja from Kiddah, meaning that he was a man believed by the natives to have supernatural skill over elephants, that is, an elephant doctor. Kiddah is the name of a small state near Penang, and means elephant enclosure, the state having received this name from the fact of its

being a province in which elephants were caught for export to India. Abdulla here again shows his contempt for the superstitious observances of the Pawang, and gives the scientific solution in a simple fact, viz., the elephants cried for hunger, and having got something to eat they were quiet. Here is his appreciation of cause and effect-crying from hunger, quieting by satiety; in this he was far above his countrymen.

The Pawangs or Poyongs of the Malay Peninsula may be likened to the medicine-men of American India, as described by Catlin, but they are not so ghostly,—both are embryo priests. I met one at the house of my friend and school-fellow, the late Mr. J. R. Logan (editor of the Journal of the Indian Archipelago), at Singapore. This Pawang belonged to the Mintera Tribe, and came with a party of his fellows from the interior of the Malay Peninsula. Mr. Logan says of him (Journal of Indian Archipelago, 1848), "The most remarkable of the party was the Pawang, who displayed much sense and firmness in his character, and a slight degree of pride and reserve in his manners. He was looked up

to by his companions as a man of superior ability and knowledge, and his reputed skill in natural and supernatural medicines made him an object of much attention to the Malays in the neighbourhood, who invited him to their houses and visited him to solicit herbs and charms. The women in particular regarded him as a magician of undoubted art, and many on first approaching him threw themselves at his feet. His head was decidedly intellectual in its formation." The above is the opinion of a highly cultivated mind on the mental status of an individual belonging to a tribe that are called "wild men " by Europeans, and Orang Utan (men of the bush) by natives. Amongst many of the spells and exorcisms recited to Mr. Logan by the Pawang, the following is one relating

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to the attacking of elephants. "Hong, quake; ghost, quake. I wish to cast down; I wish to strike. Go to the left, go to the right. I cast out. The Ghost quakes. The elephant murmurs. The elephant wallows on the other side of the lake. The pot boils, the pan boils on the opposite side of the point. Go to the left, go to the right, go to the water vessel. Ghost of grandfather (the elephant to wit), I let loose the fingers of my hand!”

Elephant hunting is seldom attempted by Europeans in the Malay Peninsula, I presume owing to the dense nature of the forest. I have frequently come across their tracks and heard their cries, but never saw one in a wild state.

We are indebted to Dr. Oxley for a lively and exciting description of an elephant hunt in the same district, which I transcribe from the Journal of Indian Archepelago, 1850. After having bagged game of various kinds, including the sapi, or wild cow, he states that

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on pulling in shore (on the Moar river) we soon perceived a large elephant enjoying his morning bath, and so little did he seem to care for us, that he deliberately swam towards the boat. It was an exciting moment, for the great fear was of his escape. As I have said, there was but little light, but we could see his large body and the great nob on the top of his head pretty distinctly. The word was given, 'Be steady now,' and at about two paces' distance a couple of balls were put into his head. With this he turned round, and again he was saluted with a couple or more bullets. Not liking such a reception, he made for the land, and got upon the river bank, when a well-directed rifle-shot hit him hard and made him scream with pain. But instead of making off, as he might have done, the noble beast instantly came back into the river to take vengeance on his adversaries; but he was received so warmly, he could

never make up his mind to a regular onslaught on the boat, and when he turned and made off we followed, pouring in volley after volley upon his devoted head. Finding the side of the river we first saw him on, rather too hot to be pleasant, he made up his mind to a charge, and across the river he went. Then, indeed, he was at our mercy, and we followed, giving him the contents of three double barrels, one after the other in rapid succession, for by the time the third had fired, number one was again loaded. All this time we were having target practice at the large bump on the top of the head, for we could see nothing else at ten yards' distance. Every shot told, and the poor beast spouted water from his proboscis, uttering low yells of dissatisfaction. But his merciless pursuers had no pity, although when he did reach the land, and we heard him at the edge of the river uttering plaintive cries, they did elicit a few words of sympathy, such as, 'Poor beast! he is surely hurt; do you think he can get away?' When the boat was close to the shore he made one more attempt to get back into the river, getting so close to the boat as to put us in no small jeopardy from his tusks; but we gave way, and repulsed him with a regular broadside. He then took to the shore again. By this time morning began to break, and there was sufficient light to see him standing at the river's verge, tossing his trunk from side to side with his head towards us. Two of us caught sight of him at this moment and saw the large hollow in the forehead where the animal is most vulnerable. We pulled our triggers simultaneously, and when the smoke cleared away his large carcase lay stretched on the ground with the head reclining in the river.”

The Moar and Kissang rivers present excellent arenas for sport, and I may add the whole Malay Peninsula.