had he stamped upon them, but he had even filled his trunk with muddy water, and squirted it over their seemingly lifeless remains. But the "great army" was there, and not past fighting, and it marched straight at and around the Elephant. On one occasion it encamped a force against him in the _St. James's Gazette_, and alas, for the good Elephant's vanity, he imagined he had foes there simply because he holds Radical views. Ye gods! Who that is commonly sane, cares whether an elephant be Radical, Whig, or Tory? Politics are the very last subject in the world I should consult an Elephant about. The mere idea of such a thing is enough to make a certain _St. James's Gazette_ reviewer I wot of, split his sides with laughter in the evil secrecy of his literary den. As I hinted before, the Elephant while on the rampage in the newspaper-shops once chanced on my humble self, sitting back in an unobtrusive corner. One would have thought that to a lordly animal of such a size, I might have seemed too microscopic to be noticed, but not a bit of it. He "went" for me, with a good deal of unnecessary vigour--a total waste of power on his part, I considered; however, that was his look-out, not mine. He didn't know who I was then, and he doesn't quite know now, though I believe if I threw off my domino and showed him my features he would take to his old tricks again in a minute. But I don't want to irritate him, because he is really a good creature; I would much rather pet him than goad him. He can be cruel, but he can also be kind, and it is in the latter mood that everybody likes him and wants to give him sugar-candy. Moreover, as Elephant he is the living Emblem of Wisdom--a sacred being; and, if one is of an Eastern turn of mind, worthy of worship--and I never heard of any one yet who would venture to cast a doubt on his sagacity. He is wonderfully knowing; his opinion on some things is always worth having, and when he picks up Pins his movements are graceful and always worth watching. Moreover, one never gets tired of looking at the lovely Fairy who guards and guides him. We could not spare either of the twain from our midst--they form a picture "full of Colour." When we view that picture the "moral sense" of Colour enters into us--we feel twice born and twice alive. See how graceful is the _cortége_! how quaint and pretty and Oriental! Through the eye-holes of my domino I gaze admiringly upon the group--it makes a bright reflection on the "tablets of my memory." Move on, gentle Elephant! Move on! As slowly as you like, and at your own pleasure. Only don't try to "smash" me any more--it's useless. I am formed of that hard "virile" composition of literary ware "guaranteed unsmashable"--I am neither glass nor porcelain. Have another biscuit? Another _bon-bon_ of sugared praise? Well, then, you are a poet in disguise--a genius, wrapped up and sealed down under a hopeless weight of circumstances.