o hundred yards that he
remembered that he had a sheath-knife at his belt. As the lion stopped
at the foot of a large tree, he drew his sheath-knife with his left
hand, and stabbed the animal twice in the right side. The lion jumped
back, and in a few moments he turned and walked away, growling and
moaning as he went. Meanwhile, the ranger climbed a tree, and tied
himself to a branch, lest he should lose consciousness and fall off.
There he was found by his companions, and conveyed to the nearest
hospital. The body of the lion was afterwards discovered not far away.
Its heart had been pierced by the blade of the sheath-knife. The lion
was an old male, and its empty stomach showed that it had been rendered
unusually fierce by hunger.

[Illustration: "The second lion seized him."]

[Illustration: "'It is good! very good!'"]

PHILIP WOOD AND SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.

'Be off, I tell you! We want no loiterers here!' said a workman, roughly
pushing away a country lad who was gazing with deep interest at the busy
crowd of people engaged in the rebuilding of St. Paul's Cathedral.

This famous church, destroyed by the Great Fire in 1666, was now--some
three years later--being restored under the direction of Sir Christopher
Wren.

'I am not loitering, sir,' answered the lad humbly. 'I have come up from
Suffolk to seek work. I can carve, and I can----'

'Be off, I tell you!' harshly interrupted the foreman; 'we want no
hedge-carpenters here! Here comes the master. Be off, or he will make
short work of you!'

The master, no less a person than the great Sir Christopher himself, now
came up, and catching sight of the lad, said sternly:

'Who is that youth? Has he business here? If not, bid him begone, for
lookers-on hinder the work.'

'Just what I was telling him, your honour,' said the foreman, scowling
at the boy. 'He has come to look for work, he says, but I told him we
wanted no country bumpkins here.'

Sir Christopher cast a searching glance at the boy. 'What sort of work
can you do?' he asked.

The boy, Philip Wood, by name, was much flustered at being addressed by
the great architect himself, and hardly knowing what he said, he
stammered out, 'I am very fond of carving, sir.'

'Carving--umph! What was the last thing you carved?' asked Sir
Christopher.

'The last thing was a trough, but----' and Philip was about to describe
the group of roses and columbines he had made for the Squire's
chimney-piece, bu