“Such in other respects, although it may appear in some degree tedious to dwell upon the subject, were the qualities of this noble and intelligent quadruped, that I assigned a band of music to attend upon it; and it was always preceded by a company of forty spearsmen. It had for its beverage every morning a Hindostany maun (twenty-eight pounds) of liquor; and every morning and evening there were boiled for its meal four mauns of rice, and two mauns of beef or mutton, with one maun of oil or clarified butter. From among all the others this same elephant was selected for my morning rides, and for this purpose there was always upon its back a howdah of solid gold. Four mauns of gold were moreover wrought into rings, chains, and other ornaments for its neck, breast and legs; and lastly, its body was painted all over every day with the dust of sandal-wood.” There is something quite captivating in the idea of all this oriental pomp enshrining the favorite of an emperor--in its careful tendance, its perfumes, jewels and musicians--the latter, in particular, being an attention as delicate as unusual. One would like to know its after-history--whether it survived so magnificent a patron, and whether, in that case, its splendor remained undiminished to the end. But the story of the Elephant of India stops with Jehangir. About the same time that this liberal-minded monarch ascended the throne of the East, there died in Genoa another imperial favorite--the hound Roldarno, which had belonged to Charles V., and was by him given to Andrea Doria. Such at least is the common version; but it is also stated that Roldarno belonged to a later Doria, and did not die until nine years after the old Admiral was in his grave. In either case, he was a notable dog, and received the final honor of interment at the foot of a statue of Jupiter--to the end “that Roldarno still might guard a king.” His life-size portrait may be seen in the Doria palace. This same Emperor had an almost feminine liking for birds and flowers; and he who would not lift a finger to keep his heretic subjects from the flames, once ordered his tent to be left standing in the camp, otherwise dismantled, simply because a swallow had nested in its folds. “And it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o’er those walls of stone That the cannon-shot had shattered.” In the last years of his life at Yuste, he made great pets of a cat and parrot. After his death, they were transferred to his daughter, the Princess Juana, who with true Spanish courtesy, dispatched a litter for them in charge of a faithful servant. In due time they reached Valladolid, well and happy, having traveled together a number of days without one single recorded peck or scratch.