HOW JUMBO CROSSED THE OCEAN.

BY W. L. ALDEN.

Jumbo has arrived. Two weeks ago there was published in Young People an account of his departure from England by a lady who knew him very well, and who was very familiar with his doings during his last days on English soil.

Now we have the great elephant with us, safe at the Hippodrome, under Mr. Barnum's care, and where thousands of American children can make his acquaintance, and find out what made him such a wonderful favorite on the other side of the ocean.

Jumbo had a great time crossing the sea. A big elephant is a very awkward passenger when he travels by water. He weighs so much that he must be kept in the centre of the ship, and he must be fastened so securely that he can not possibly break loose. Jumbo made the passage in the same box in which he was drawn eight miles from the Zoological Gardens in London to the dock where the great steamer that was to carry him to America lay.

This box was made as strong as oak and iron could make it, and was provided with openings in the front, through which Jumbo could stretch out his trunk to receive his food and drink. Jumbo's cage was only a trifle smaller than the main hatchway of the steamer, and yet it fitted him almost as closely as if it had been an Ulster overcoat. Being wedged closely into the hatchway, the box could not be moved by the rolling or pitching of the ship, and Jumbo, being packed tightly in the box, could not bruise himself. Thus he was as well situated as a sea-faring elephant could expect to be.

Jumbo did not like the sea, particularly when he was seasick. When we remember how seasick a child weighing sixty pounds often is at sea, we can understand how tremendously seasick an elephant weighing six tons can be. For the first two or three days of the passage Jumbo suffered greatly from seasickness. He lost his appetite. He frequently sighed like a small earthquake, and he tried to get rid of his headache by beating his head against the front of his box. This remedy seemed to help him, for on the third day he began to get better, and made a light breakfast of two hundred pounds of hay, two bushels of oats, a bushel of biscuits, fifteen loaves of bread, twenty buckets of water, and a few trifles, and in a few hours he felt well enough to receive visits from the passengers.

Two keepers—Mr. Scott, who has been with Jumbo seventeen years in England, and one whom Mr. Barnum had sent over from New York—were with him constantly while at sea, taking turns in sitting up with him at night, so that he need never feel lonesome. Lamps were also kept burning in front of him all night, in case he should want to read, and far more care was taken of him in every way than of any other passenger. Most of the time he was amiable, and conducted himself in a way to win the approbation of everybody. Once, however, he became very ill-tempered, and his keepers could not please him, no matter what they did. Finally they brought some little children to him. The sight of them reminded Jumbo of his happy life in the Zoological Gardens, where he was accustomed to carry children on his back. The ill-temper vanished, and he became once more the gentle beast that he had been before he was forced to go to sea.

In spite of his general amiability, Jumbo does not like to be treated with disrespect. One of the sailors of the vessel found this out. The man was washing his clothes near Jumbo's box, and he rudely slapped the elephant's trunk to make him move it out of the way. This was, in Jumbo's opinion, an outrage which no gentleman would offer to a respectable elephant, and he determined to resent it. Presently the man went away, leaving his clean clothes within Jumbo's reach. The latter instantly seized them, wiped the deck with them until they were far blacker than before they had been washed, and with a sweet smile, handed them back to the astonished sailor.

The great ship, the Assyrian Monarch, arrived at New York on the morning of Easter Sunday. An immense floating derrick was brought alongside of the vessel, and heavy chains being made fast to the elephant's box, it was hoisted out of the ship, and lowered to the deck of a big lighter. Jumbo strongly disapproved of this proceeding, and mentioned it loudly. It was his opinion that the chains would break while the box was in the air, and that he would get a terrible fall. In this he proved to be mistaken, for he was brought without accident to Pier No. 1, North River, which, being built of stone and iron, was strong enough to bear his weight, and there he was landed.

It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening by the time that everything was ready for a start. Eight horses were harnessed to the box, which, with Jumbo, weighed over twelve tons, and long ropes were fastened to the axles, so that men could assist the horses in dragging the enormous load. Each rope was about two hundred feet long, and at least five hundred people took hold of them. The horses and the men made a tremendous effort, but after they had pulled the box about three feet, the wheels sank into the ground, and it could not be stirred. Mr. Barnum then sent to the Madison Square Garden for two elephants. He proposed to take Jumbo out of his box, and to introduce him to the two elephants, hoping that he would accept their invitation to take a stroll up Broadway with them, and to stop at their hotel—as they would politely call the Madison Square Garden.

Before the elephants arrived, eight more horses were harnessed to the box; it was pried out of the mud, and started slowly on its way. At the Bowling Green the two elephants from Madison Square Garden were met, and welcomed Jumbo with enthusiastic "trumpetings," to which he courteously replied. Two or three times the box came to a stop while on the way up Broadway, but the horses and men pulled and the two elephants pushed until it was in motion again. It was after midnight when the Madison Square Garden was reached, and then it was found that the box was so big it would not go through the doors. So poor Jumbo had to pass the night in the street.

On Monday, however, he was safely installed in his new home. He has not mentioned how he likes this new continent, or the strange people among whom he has come; but considering the attention he receives, and the dainties fed him by thousands of admiring little folks, he ought to be a serene and satisfied elephant.