104 
THE LION. 
familiarity that is quite wonderful; none more so, 
perhaps, than the one shown in a travelling mena¬ 
gerie at Amsterdam, some years ago. 
“ After he had been pulled about, and made 
to show his teeth,” says an eye-witness, “he was 
required to exhibit. Two young men in fancy 
dresses entered the spacious cage; and, in the 
meantime, the lion, apparently perfectly aware of 
what he had to do, walked composedly round. He 
was now made to jump over a rope held at different 
heights ; next through a hoop and a barrel, and 
again through the same covered with paper. All 
this he did freely, compressing himself to go through 
the narrow space, and alighting gracefully. His 
next feat was to repeat the leap through the hoop 
and barrel, with the paper set on fire. This he 
evidently disliked, but, with some coaxing, went 
through it. The animals were now all fed, but 
the lion had not yet completed his share in the 
night’s entertainment, and was required to show his 
forbearance by parting with his food. The keeper 
entered the cage, and took it repeatedly from him, 
with no further resistance than that expressed by a 
short clutch and growl; his countenance had, how¬ 
ever, lost its serenity, but how long his good temper 
would have continued, after being so far tampered 
with, is somewhat doubtful.” 
A remarkable instance of the fear—or rather, 
perhaps, respect—that lions, such at least as are 
publicly exhibited, entertain for the men who feed and 
tend them, is related by Major Hamilton Smith :— 
“A keeper of wild beasts at New York,” says the 
