LIONS.
Did you ever see a live lion?
Yes, at the menagerie.
Pooh! that was no more a lion than your little baby-sister is a full-grown woman; to be sure this lion had a stout old lion for its father, and a lioness for its mother; but that does not make it a lion, though the keeper of the menagerie might tell you so till he is black in the face.
Why?
Because lions that you see at menageries are taken from their mothers before they are weaned. They are then carried away from their native forests, where they might have run about and grown hearty and strong, and fed, not on the milk of the old lioness, but on whatever their keepers see fit to give; then they are cramped up in close unwholesome cages, where they can scarce turn round; what chance have they of growing up to look like lions? Instead of that bold, kingly look, that magnificent form and flowing mane, which they would have had, if theold lioness had brought them up according tohernotions, their shapes become mean and poor, their manes thin, their look unhappy and broken-spirited, and their whole appearance very miserable. Ah, a wild lion is quite another affair, as you would soon find, could he but crunch your little heads between his jaws.
NowIshould like to see a real forest lion, at a safe distance of course; I should wish to be up on a tree, or on top of a high mountain perhaps.Heis not afraid of any thing, not he! he comes tramping along, cracking the bushes as he goes, and sniffing round to find two or three big men to make a luncheon of. A little kid would be only a mouthful for him. Lions are like cats in one respect: they do not kill at once, and put the poor creature out of his misery, any more than pussy does the poor frantic little mouse. The lion stands and looks the man in the eye, and makes believe he is going to eat him in about a half a minute, and when he has frightened the poor fellow almost to death, he gives him a great slap with his paw, or flaps his great bushy tail in his face, as if to say, how do you like that? this is only the beginning, old fellow, I will chew you up pretty soon. I don’t like that in the lion; it is too petty and mean for such a great grand creature. A lion will never eat a dead body; he likes warm, livecreatures, and if, when he has killed one for the fun of it, he finds that he is not hungry enough to eat the whole of him at one standing, he never goes back again afterward to take another meal, he would scorn to do that; he leaves such second-hand pickings to such poor miserable loafers as jackals and hyenas, and strides off with his great grand nose up in the air, as if to say, the best is good enough for me.
When a lion and lioness leave their home in the forest to take a ramble, the lioness always goes first and leads the way; and when she stops in her walk, the old lion stops too, till she is ready to go on. Ask your mother if she don’t think that’s about the proper way to do things? When they come to an Arab’s tent where they mean to get their supper, the lioness lies down a short distance off, while the old lion bounds in and snatches whatever he thinks madam will like best, and then lays it down at her feet. He looks on all the time she is eating it with a great deal of satisfaction, and never thinks of touching a bit till she has had enough. Just tell your father that!
When the lioness’s little baby-cubs are born, she does not leave them (even for an instant), for a great many days; the old lion goes to market, as he ought, and brings home the family dinner. When the little baby-lionsare three months old, and have got all their teeth (a great many lion-babies, like other babies, die getting their teeth), when they have got all their teeth, not before, the affectionate mother lioness goes out for a walk to get them food; but she only stays two or three hours. I wish those foolish young mothers, who go to balls and dance till daylight, while their poor little hungry babies are screaming themselves sick, would take pattern by the old lioness. Well, when she comes back from her walk, she brings along some mutton (we won’t be particular about asking her where she got it, because she might give us a rough answer). Then she carefully skins the mutton, and after tearing it into small bits, she gives it to her baby-lions to eat.
The old pa-lion does not like to stay with his little babies, because their frolics disturb his dignity; so he won’t sleep in the same place with them and their mother, but chooses a place near by, where the old lady can roar after him if any thing happens. If I were she, some night, when the old fellow was fast asleep, I would take my little cubs, and creep off, where his “dignity†would never be disturbed by my babies again—what! not play with my pretty smart little babies? Solemn old goose, I say! When the old lion takes his young ones out to hunt, if the poor little things seem afraidof any strange noise they hear, he just puts his mouth close to their ear, and roars into it, loud as thunder, as if to say, stop that now, you cubs! or I’ll give you something worth while to be afraid of. And now I will tell you a curious thing: this lion, so strong, so grand, so terrible, whose roar makes the strongest man’s heart to quake, this lion has his deadly foe in the shape of flies. Often lions have ulcers on their bodies, the flies get into them, and make them very sore and corrupt; and the lion not knowing how to rid himself of them, they soon put an end to his life. Ah, you old forest Goliath! strong and brave as you are, you yet have your David!