he would proceed to bite the back of his
neck, tweak his ears, and otherwise maltreat him. But at his first
squeal the others would make common cause with him, after the unselfish
fashion of pigs, and together they would pull our emblem down, drag him
down in the dust or mud as the case might be, and finally would hustle
him off into a corner, where he would sit scowling until some soldier
came and took him away. Whenever the shrill voice of a pig was heard
expostulating it would be understood that the eagle was at it again, and
somebody would go to the rescue of our national greatness. Often have I
seen a couple of soldiers, each with the tip of a wing in his hand, and
with the eagle between them, marching him across the parade-ground to
his proper roost. On these occasions he looked exceedingly silly. When
his feet touched the ground he would attempt to walk, and with even less
success than usual. He reminded me of some urchin who had fallen into
the creek, and who was being led homeward in much wetness and
humiliation.

It is a sad story when the traditional dignity of the principal
character is considered, for he was finally killed by those pigs. The
facts developed at the inquest seemed to indicate that he had no
discretion, and had gone too often. They had walked over him, and had
even lain down upon him. Dead and disregarded he lay in a corner among
the litter, and they had not even attempted to eat him. This seemed to
indicate that they had killed him merely as a lesson to him. There never
was more ignominious end to an exalted character.

Literature is very full of the reputed nobleness of certain birds and
beasts; their vaunted qualities of head and heart; the pride of their
bearing; the independence of their lives; the solitary grandeur of their
characters. And in the majority of cases these heathenish notions have
remained undispelled by the lapse of time. Even men assume for long
periods of time the characters that romantic biographers have clothed
them with, and the youth of this country, now men, are only just
beginning to recover their senses after the singular yarns of such books
as Abbott's Life of Napoleon, read in youth. As instances of the first
statement, the elephant is actually, and in his real circus life, an
indocile and malicious beast, prone to blind rages, revenges, and sly
malice. The camel, darling of the Arab, ship of the desert, etc., has,
by the testimony of those who know him well, l