CHAP. II 
THE ELEPHANT 
29 
Changed as he was and in those sordid weeds, 
His royal master. And he rose and lick’d 
His withered hand, and earnestly looked up 
With eyes whose human meaning did not need 
The aid of speech ; and moan’d, as if at once 
To court and chide the long-withheld caress . . . 
Disputing, he withdrew. The watchful dog 
Followed his footsteps close. But he retired 
Into the thickest grove; there yielding way 
To his o’erburthen’d nature, from all eyes 
Apart, he cast himself upon the ground, 
And threw his arms around the dog, and cried 
While tears stream’d down. Thou Theron, thou hast known 
Thy poor lost master . , . Theron, only thou ! ”— 
Southey’s Roderick^ last of the Goths. 
In case of danger the dog will defend his master, 
guided by his own unaided intelligence ; he at once 
detects and attacks the enemy. In wild sports he 
shares the delight of hunting equally with his 
master, and the two are inseparable allies. The 
day is over, and he lies down and sleeps before the 
fire at his master’s feet, and dreams of the dangers 
and exploits; he is a member of his master’s house¬ 
hold. 
The elephant is, in my opinion, overrated. He 
can be educated to perform certain acts, but he 
would never volunteer his services. There is no 
elephant that I ever saw” who would spontaneously 
interfere to save his master from drowning or from 
attack. An enemy might assassinate you at the 
feet of your favourite elephant, but he would never 
attempt to interfere in your defence; he would 
probably run away, or remain impassive, unless 
