genius who confers the wand, wrests it from the hand of
the temporary possessor, and consigns it to some new performer; on which
occasions all the characters change sides, and then the race and the hard
knocks begin anew.

We might have extended this chapter to a much greater length--we might
have carried the comparison into the liberal professions--we might have
shown, as was in fact our original purpose, that each is in itself a
little pantomime with scenes and characters of its own, complete; but, as
we fear we have been quite lengthy enough already, we shall leave this
chapter just where it is. A gentleman, not altogether unknown as a
dramatic poet, wrote thus a year or two ago--

'All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:'

and we, tracking out his footsteps at the scarcely-worth-mentioning
little distance of a few millions of leagues behind, venture to add, by
way of new reading, that he meant a Pantomime, and that we are all actors
in The Pantomime of Life.

SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION

We have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common with most
other people, we have heard and read of many instances of their bravery
and generosity. We have duly admired that heroic self-denial and
charming philanthropy which prompts them never to eat people except when
they are hungry, and we have been deeply impressed with a becoming sense
of the politeness they are said to display towards unmarried ladies of a
certain state. All natural histories teem with anecdotes illustrative of
their excellent qualities; and one old spelling-book in particular
recounts a touching instance of an old lion, of high moral dignity and
stern principle, who felt it his imperative duty to devour a young man
who had contracted a habit of swearing, as a striking example to the
rising generation.

All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and, indeed, says a very
great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound to state, however,
that such individual lions as we have happened to fall in with have not
put forth any very striking characteristics, and have not acted up to the
chivalrous character assigned them by their chroniclers. We never saw a
lion in what is called his natural state, certainly; that is to say, we
have never met a lion out walking in a forest, or crouching in his lair
under a tropical sun, waiting till his dinner should happen to come by,
hot f