rom the baker's. But we have seen some under the influence of
captivity, and the pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they
appeared to us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows.

The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all very well;
he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lord bless us!
what of that? The lions of the fashionable world look just as ferocious,
and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-lobby lion or a
Regent-street animal will put on a most terrible aspect, and roar,
fearfully, if you affront him; but he will never bite, and, if you offer
to attack him manfully, will fairly turn tail and sneak off. Doubtless
these creatures roam about sometimes in herds, and, if they meet any
especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow, will endeavour to
frighten him; but the faintest show of a vigorous resistance is
sufficient to scare them even then. These are pleasant characteristics,
whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against the Zoological lion
and his brethren at the fairs, that they are sleepy, dreamy, sluggish
quadrupeds.

We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake, except
at feeding-time. In every respect we uphold the biped lions against
their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challenge controversy upon the
subject.

With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosity and
interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady of our
acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept our refusal
of her invitation to an evening party; 'for,' said she, 'I have got a
lion coming.' We at once retracted our plea of a prior engagement, and
became as anxious to go, as we had previously been to stay away.

We went early, and posted ourselves in an eligible part of the
drawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view of the
interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrilles began, the
room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of the house became
inconsolable,--for it is one of the peculiar privileges of these lions to
make solemn appointments and never keep them,--when all of a sudden there
came a tremendous double rap at the street-door, and the master of the
house, after gliding out (unobserved as he flattered himself) to peep
over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands together with
great glee, and cried out in a very important voice, 'My dear,
Mr.-