ubject of lions, and gives an anecdote sent him, he
says, by "a worthy merchant and a friend of mine," who had it in the
year 1700 from the gentleman to whom it happened.

"About sixty years ago, when the plague raged at Naples, Sir George
Davis, consul there for the English nation, retired to Florence. It
happened one day he went out of curiosity to see the great duke's lions.
At the farther end, in one of the dens, lay a lion, which the keepers in
three years' time could not tame, with all the art and gentle usage
imaginable. Sir George no sooner appeared at the grates of the den, but
the lion ran to him with all the marks of joy and transport he was
capable of expressing. He reared himself up, and licked his hand, which
this gentleman put in through the grates. The keeper affrighted, took
him by the arm and pulled him away, begging him not to hazard his life
by going so near the fiercest creature of that kind that ever entered
those dens. However, nothing would satisfy Sir George, notwithstanding
all that could be said to dissuade him, but he must go into the den to
him. The very instant he entered, the lion threw his paws upon his
shoulders, and licked his face, and ran to and fro in the den, fawning
and full of joy, like a dog at the sight of his master. After several
embraces and salutations exchanged on both sides, they parted very good
friends. The rumour of this interview between the lion and the stranger
rung immediately through the whole city, and Sir George was very near
passing for a saint among the people. The great duke, when he heard of
it, sent for Sir George, who waited upon his highness, to the den, and
to satisfy his curiosity, gave him the following account of what seemed
so strange to the duke and his followers:--

"'A captain of a ship from Barbary gave me this lion when he was a young
whelp. I brought him up tame, but when I thought him too large to be
suffered to run about the house, I built a den for him in my courtyard;
from that time he was never permitted to go loose, except when I brought
him within doors to show him to my friends. When he was five years old,
in his gamesome tricks, he did some mischief by pawing and playing with
people. Having griped a man one day a little too hard, I ordered him to
be shot, for fear of incurring the guilt of what might happen; upon this
a friend who was then at dinner with me begged him: how he came here I
know not.'

Here Sir George Davis ended, and th