THE LION HOUSE AT THE ZOO 
67 
except for those whose imagination can picture no 
other side of animal life in daily contact with man, it 
is, perhaps, the worst moment to select in order to ap- 
preciate the real character of those most friendly beasts, 
the lions and tigers at the Zoo. In the early morning 
hours, when their “ sitting-rooms ” have been duly 
swept and strewn with fresh sawdust, and their toilet 
— which is always completed in their sleeping-chambers 
— is finished, the iron doors are opened, and the 
owners of the different cages come leisurely out to 
greet the day, each in its humour as the night’s sleep 
or natural temper dictates. 
On the last occasion on which the writer waited on 
the tigers’ levee, it was evident that some disagreement 
had marked the morning hours. The tigress from 
Hyderabad came out with a rush, and greeted the 
world with a most forbidding growl. She then stood 
erect, like a disturbed cat, switching her tail to and 
fro, and after examining every corner of the cage, 
summoned her mate with a discontented roar. The 
tiger then stalked out, and endeavoured to soothe his 
partner with some commonplace caress, which appar- 
ently soothed her ruffled nerves, for after sharpening 
her claws upon the floor, she lay down, and, rolling 
over on her back, with paws folded on her breast, and 
mouth half-open, went most contentedly to sleep. 
The pair of tiger-cubs in the next cage were still 
sleeping the long sleep of youth, one making a pillow 
of the other’s shoulder. Tigers, it may be observed, 
do not sleep like cats, but resemble in all their attitudes 
