After the execution, at which the dog was present, he walked by the side of the corpse to its burial-place, and after the ceremony laid himself upon the grave. There he passed the first night, the next day, and the second night. The neighbour in the meantime, unhappy at not seeing him, goes in search of his friend, finds him by his master’s grave, caresses him, and makes him eat. An hour afterwards the dog escaped, and regained his favourite place. Three months passed away, each morning of which he came to seek his food, and then returned to the grave of his master; but each day he was more sad, more meagre, more languishing. He was chained up, but broke his fetters; escaped; returned to the grave, and never quitted it more. It was in vain that they tried to bring him back. They carried him food, but he ate no longer. For hours he was seen employing his weakened limbs in digging up the earth that separated him from his master. Passion gave him strength, and he gradually approached the body; at last his faithful heart gave way, and he breathed out his last gasp, as if he knew that he had found his master.
Anecdote XXXII.
In a play exhibited at Rome, in the reign of Tiberius, there were twelve elephant performers, six males and six females, clothed in fancy costume. After they had, at the command of their keeper, danced and performed a thousand curious antics, a most sumptuous feast was served up for their refreshment. The table was covered with all sorts of dainties, and golden goblets filled with the most precious wines; and beds covered with purple carpets were placed around for the animals to lie upon, after the manner of the Romans when feasting. On these carpets the elephants laid themselves down, and at a given signal they reached out their trunks to the table, and fell to eating and drinking with as much propriety as if they had been so many honest citizens.
