principal seats, over which were galleries. In the course of the entertainment, a den was opened, out of which stalked, in free and ample range, a most majestic lion; and, soon after, a fallow deer was let into the circus from another den. The deer instantly fled, and bounded round the circular space, pursued by the lion; but the quick and sudden turnings of the former continually baulked the effort of its pursuer. After this ineffectual chase had continued for several minutes, a door was opened, through which the deer escaped; and presently five or six of the large and fierce Hungarian mastiffs were sent in. The lion, at the moment of their entrance, was leisurely returning to his den, the door of which stood open. The dogs, which entered behind him, flew towards him in a body, with the utmost fury, making the amphitheatre ring with their barkings. When they reached the lion, the noble animal stopped, and deliDerately turned towards them. The dogs instantly retreated a few steps, increasing their vociferations, and the lion slowly resumed his progress towards his den. The dogs again approached; the lion turned his head; his adversaries halted; and this continued until, on his nearing his den, the dogs separated, and approached him on different sides. The lion then turned quickly round, like one whose dignified patience could brook the harrassment of insolence no longer. The dogs fled far, as if instinctively sensible of the power of wrath they had at length provoked. One unfortunate dog, how ever, which had approached too near to effect his escape, was suddenly seized by the paw of the lion; and the piercing yells which he sent forth quickly caused his comrades to recede to the door of entrance at the opposite site of the area, where they stood in a row, barking and yelling in concert with their miserable associate. After arresting the struggling and yelling prisoner for a short time, the lion couched upon him with his forepaws and mouth. The struggles of the sufferer grew feebler and feebler, until at length he became perfectly motionless. We all concluded him to be dead. In this composed posture of executive justice, the lion remained for at least ten minutes, when he majestically rose, and with a slow step entered his den, and disappeared. The apparent corpse continued to lie motionless for a few minutes: Die sently the dog, to his amazement, and that of the whole amphitheatre, found himself alive, and rose with his nose pointed to the ground, his tail between his hind legs pressing his belly, and, as soon as he was certified of his existence, he made off for the door in a long trot, through which he escaped with his inore fortunate companions.* Another Lion Fight at Vienna. Of late years the truth of the accounts which have been so long current, respecting the generous disposition of the lion, have been called in question. Several travellers, in their accounts of Asia and Africa, describe him as of a more rapacious and sanguinary disposition than had formerly been supposed, although few of them have had the opportunity to make him a particular object of their attention. A circumstance that occurred not long since in Vienna seems, however, to confirm the more ancient accounts. In the year 1791, at which period the custom of baiting wild beasts still existed in that city, a combat was to be exhibited between a lion and a number of large dogs. As soon as the noble animal made his appearance, four large bull-dogs were turned loose upon him, three of which, however, as soon as they came near him, took fright, and ran away. One only had courage to remain, and make the attack. The lion, however, without rising from the ground upon which he was lying, showed him, by a single stroke with his paw, how greatly his superior he was in strength; for the dog was instantly stretched motionless on the ground. The lion drew him towards him, and laid his fore-paws upon him in such a manner that only a small part of his body could be seen. Every one imagined that the dog was dead, and that the lion would soon rise and devour him. But they were mistaken. The dog began to move, and struggled to get loose, which the lion permitted him to do. He seemed merely to have warned him not to meddle with him any more; but when the dog attempted to run away, and had already got half over the enclosure, the lion's indignation seemed to be excited. He sprang from the ground, and in two leaps reached the fugitive, who had just got as far as the paling, and was whining to have it opened for him to escape. . The Tinaes. The flying animal had called the instinctive propensity of the monarch of the forest into action: the defenceless enemy now excited his pity; for the generous lion stepped a few paces backward, and ooked quietly on, while a small door was opened to let the dog out of the enclosure. This unequivocal trait of generosity moved every spectator. A shout of applause resounded throughout the assembly, who had enjoyed a satisfaction of a description far superior to what they had expected. It is possible that the African lion, when, under the impulse of hunger, he goes out to seek his prey, may not so often exhibit this magnanimous disposition; for in that case he is compelled by imperious necessity to satisfy the cravings of nature; but when his appetite is satiated, he never seeks for prey, nor does he ever destroy to gratify a blood-thirsty disposition.* A Man killed by a Lion. Under the reign of Augustus, king of Poland and elector of Saxony, a lion was kept in the menagerie at Dresden, between whom and his attendant such a good understanding subsisted, that the 'atter used not to lay the food which he brought to him before the grate, but carried it into his cage. Generally the man wore a green jacket; and a considerable time had elapsed, during which the lion had always appeared very friendly and grateful whenever he received a visit from him. Once the keeper, having been to church to receive the sacrament, had put on a black coat, as is usual in that country upon such occasions, and he still wore it when he gave the lion his dinner. The unusual appearance of the black coat excited the lion's rage; he leapt at his keeper, and struck his claws into his shoulder. The man spoke to him gently, when the well-known tone of his voice brought the lion in some degree to recollection. Doubt appeared expressed in his terrific features; however, he did not quit his hold. An alarm was raised: the wife and children ran to the place with shrieks of terror. Soon some grenadiers of the guard arrived, and offered to shoot the animal, as there seemed, in this critical moment, to be no other means of Zoological Anecdotes, extricating the man from him; but the keeper, who was attached to the liou, begged them not to do it, as he hoped he should be able to extricate himself at a less expense. For nearly a quarter of an hour, he capitulated with his enraged friend, who still would not let go his hold, but shook his mane, lashed his sides with his tail, and rolled his fiery eyes. At length the man felt himself unable to sustain the weight of the lion, and yet any serious effort to extricate himself would have been at the immediate hazard of his life. He therefore desired the grenadiers to fire, which they did through the grate, and killed the lion on the spot; but in the same moment, perhaps only by a convulsive dying grasp, he squeezed the keeper between his powerful claws with such force, that he broke his arms, ribs, and spine; and they both fell down dead together.* A Woman killed by a Lion. uld In the beginning of the last century, there was in the menagerie at Cassel, a lion that showed an astonishing degree of tameness towards the woman that had the care of him. This went so far, that the woman, in order to amuse the c mpany that came to see the animal, often rashly place not only her hand, but even her head, between his tremendous jaws. She had frequently performed this experiment without suffering any injury; but having once introduced her head into the lion's mouth, the animal made a sudden snap, and killed her on the spot. Undoubtedly, this catastrophe was unintentional on the part of the lion; for probably at the fatal moment the hair of the woman's head irritated the lion's throat, and compelled him to sneeze or cough; at least, this supposition seems to be confirmed by what followed: for as soon as the lion perceived that he had killed his attendant, the good-tempered, grateful animal exhibited signs of the deepest melancholy, laid himself down by the side of the dead body, which he would not suffer to be taken from him, refused to take any food, and in a few days pined himself to death.† The Lions in the Tower. Lions, with other beasts of prey and curious animals presented to the king of Zoological Anecdotes. + Ibid. England, are committed to the Tower on their arrival, there to remain in the custody of a keeper especially appointed to that office by letters patent; he has apartments for himself, with an allowance of sixpence a day, and a further sixpence a day for every lion and leopard. Maitland says the office was usually filled by some person of distinction and quality, and he instances the appointment of Robert Marsfield, Esq., in the reign of king Henry VI. It appears from the patent rolls, that in 1382, Richard II. appointed John Evesham, one of his valets, keeper of the lions, and one of the valets-at-arms in the Tower of London, during pleasure. His predecessor was Robert Bowyer.+ Maitland supposes lions and leopards to have been the only beasts kept there for many ages, except a white bear and an elephant in the reign of Henry III. That monarch, on the 26th of February, 1256, honoured the sheriff of London with the following precept :-" The King to the Sheriffs of London, greeting: We command you, that of the farm of our city ye cause, without delay, to be built at our Tower of London one house of forty feet long, and twenty feet deep, for our Elephant." Next year, on the 11th of October, the king in like manner commanded the sheriffs" to find for the said Elephant and his keeper such necessaries as should be reasonable needful." He had previously ordered them to allow four pence a day for keeping the white bear and his keeper; and the sheriffs were royally favoured with an injunction to provide a muzzle and an iron chain to hold the bear out of the water, and also a long and strong cord to hold him while he washed himself in the Thames. Stow relates, that James I., on a visit to the lion and lioness in the Tower, caused a live lamb to be put into them; but they refused to harm it, although the lamb in its innocence went close to them. An anecdote equally striking was related to the editor of the Every-Day Book by an individual whose friend, a few years ago, saw a young calf thrust into the den of a lion abroad. The calf walked to the lion, and rubbed itself against him as he jay; the lion looked, but did not move; the calf, by thrusting its nose under the side of the lion, indicated a desire to suck, and the lion then slowly rose and Maitland's Lendon, edit. 1772 i. 17 + Gent. Mag. walked away, from mere disinclination to be interfered with, but without the least expression of resentment, although the calf continued to follow him. On the 13th of August, 1731, a litter of young lions was whelped in the Tower, from a lioness and lion whelped there six years before. In the Gentleman's Magazine for February,1739, there is an engraving of Marco, a lion then in the Tower. On the 6th of April, 1775, a lion was landed at the Tower, as a present to his late majesty from Senegal. He was taken in the woods, out of a snare, by a private soldier, who, being attacked by two natives that had laid it, killed them both, and brought away the lion. The king ordered his discharge for this act, and further rewarded him by a pension of fifty pounds a year for life. On this fact, related in the Gentleman's Magazine for that year, a correspondent inquires of Mr. Urban whether a lion's whelp is an equivalent for the lives of two human. creatures." To this question, reiterated by another, it is answered in the same volume, with rectitude of principle and feeling, that "if the fact be true, the person who recommended the soldier to his majesty's notice, must have considered the action in a military light only, and must totally have overlooked the criminality of it in a moral sense. The killing two innocent fellow-creatures, unprovoked, only to rob them of the fruits of their ingenuity, can never surely be accounted meritorious in one who calls himself a christian. If it is not meritorious, but contrary, the murderer was a very improper object to be recommended as worthy to be rewarded by a humane and christian king." This settled the question, and the subject was not revived THE LION'S HEAD. Because the inundation of the Nile happened during the progress of the sun in Leo, the ancients caused the water of their fountains to issue from the mouth o a lion's head, sculptured in stone. The cir cumstance is pleasant to notice at this season; a few remarks will be made on fountains by-and-bye. The Lion's Head, at Button's coffeehouse, is well remembered in literary annals. It was a carving with an orifice at the mouth, through which communications for the "Guardian" were thrown Button had been a servant in the countess of Warwick's family, and by the Cervantur magnis isti Cervicibus ungues : Bring here nice morceaus; be it understood Button's "Lion's Head" was afterwards preserved at the Shakspeare Tavern, where it was sold by auction on the 8th of November, 1804, to Mr. Richardson of the Grand Hotel, the indefatigable collector and possessor of an immense mass of materials for the history of St. Paul, Covent-garden, the parish wherein he resides. The late duke of Norfolk was his ineffectual competitor at the sale: the noble peer suffered the spirited commoner to gain the prize for 171. 10s. Subsequently the duke frequently dined at Mr. Richardson's, whom he courted in vain to relinquish the gem. Mr. R. had the head with its inscription handsomely engraved for his "great seal," from which he has caused delicate impressions to be sented in oak-boxes, to a few whom it has pleased him so to gratify; and among them the editor of the Every-Day Book, who thus acknowledges the acceptable civility. pre In the London Magazine the "Lion's Head," fronts each number, greeting its correspondents, and others who expect announcements,with "short affable roars," and inviting" communications" from all "who may have committed a particularly good action, or a particularly bad oneor said or written any thing very clever, or very stupid, during the month." By too literal a construction of this comprehensive invitation, some got into the "head," who, not having reach enough for the "body" of the magazine, were happy to get out with a slight scratch, and others remain without daring to say their souls are their own"-to the rereformation of themselves, and as examples to others contemplating like offences. The "Lion" of the "London" is of delicate scent, and shows high masterhood in the great forest of literature. St. Anne. Her name, which in Hebrew signifies gracious, is in the church of England calendar and almanacs on this day, which is kept as a great holiday by the Romish church. The history of St. Anne is an old fic tion. It pretends that she and her husband Joachim were Jews of substance, and lived twenty years without issue, when the high priest, on Joachim making his offerings in the temple, at the feast of the dedication, asked him why he, who had no children, presumed to appear among those who had; adding, that his offerings were not acceptable to God, who had judged him unworthy to have children, nor, until he had, would his offerings be accepted. Joachim retired, and bewailed his reproach among his shepherds in the pastures without returning home, lest his neighbours also should reproach him. The story relates that, in this state, an angel appeared to him and consoled him by assuring him that he should have a daughter, who should be called Mary, and for a sign he declared that Joachim or arriving at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem should there meet his wife Anne, who being very much troubled that he had not returned sooner, should rejoice to see him. Afterwards the angel appeared to Anne, who was equally disconsolate, and comforted her by a promise to the same effect, and assured her by a like token, namely, that at the Golden Gate she should meet her husband for whose safety she had been so much concerned. Accordingly both of them left the places where they were, and met each other at the Golden Gate, and rejoiced at each others' vision, and returned thanks, and lived in cheerful expectation that the promise would be fulfilled. The meeting between St. Anne and St. Joachim at the Golden Gate was a favourite subject among catholic painters, and there are many prints of it. From one of them in the "Salisbury Missal," (1534 fo. xix) the annexed engraving is copied. The curious reader will find notices of others in a volume on the "Ancient Mysteries," by the editor of the EveryDay Book. The wood engraving in the "Missal" is improperly placed there to illustrate the meeting between the Virgin Mary and Elizabeth. MEETING OF ST. ANNE AND ST. JOACHIM AT THE GOLDEN GATE It is further pretended, that the result of the angel's communication to Joachim and Anne was the miraculous birth of the Virgin Mary, and that she was afterwards dedicated by Anne to the service of the temple, where she remained till the time of her espousal by Joseph. In the Romish breviary of Sarum there are forms of prayer to St Anne, which show how extraordinarily highly these stories placed her. One of them is thus translated by bishop Patrick.* "O vessel of celestial grace, Blest mother to the virgins'ueen, By thee we beg, in the first place, Remission of all former si 2. Patrick'. Devot, of Rom Church. "Great mother, always keep in mind The power thou hast, by thy sweet daughter, And, by thy wonted prayer, let's find Another, after high commendations to St. Anne, concludes thus :"Therefore, still asking, we remain, And thy unwearied suitors are, That, what thou canst, thou wouldst obtain, And give us heaven by thy prayer. Do thou appease the daughter, thou didst bear, She her own son, and thou thy grundon dear." The nuns of St. Anne at Rome show a rude silver ring as the wedding-ring of |