In the various sculptured Lions discovered by Mr. Layard at Nineveh in 1848, the claw in the Lion’s tail is distinctly marked, and is represented as being of large size. It is, however, really a very small, dark, horny prickle at the tip of the fleshy part of the tail, and entirely hidden by the hair.
THE LIONESS AND CUBS.
The Lioness is in all her dimensions about one-third less than the male, and has no mane. She has generally from two to four cubs at a time, which are born blind, like kittens, which they greatly resemble, though they are as large as a pug-dog, when born. When quite young they are striped and spotted, but these marks soon disappear; they also at first mew like a cat, and do not begin to roar till they are about eighteen months old. About the same time the mane begins to appear on the males, and soon after the tuft of hair on the tail, though the animal is generally five or six years before it attains its full size.
The Lioness, though naturally less strong, less courageous, and less mischievous than the Lion, becomes terrible as soon as she has young ones to provide for. The ferocity of her disposition then appears with tenfold vigour; and woe be to the wretched intruder, whether man or beast, who should unwarily approach the precincts of her sanctuary. She makes incursions for food for her young with even more intrepidity than the Lion himself; throws herself indiscriminately among men and other animals; destroys without distinction; loads herself with the spoil, and brings it home reeking to her cubs. She usually brings forth her young in the most retired and inaccessible places; and when she fears the discovery of her retreat, often hides her track, by running back over the ground, or by brushing it out with her tail. She sometimes also, when her apprehensions are great, transports her young from one place to another, like a cat; and if obstructed, defends them with determined courage, and fights to the last.
Mr. Fennel, in his History of Quadrupeds, relates an interesting anecdote of a Lioness kept at the Tower in 1773. This creature had become “greatly attached to a little dog, which was her constant companion. When the Lioness was about to whelp, the dog was removed; but shortly after her accouchement had taken place, the dog contrived to enter the den, and approached the Lioness with his usual fondness. She, alarmed for her cubs, immediately seized him, and seemed about to kill him; but, as if suddenly recollecting their former friendship, she carried him to the door of her den, and allowed him to escape unhurt.” Mr. Fennel also tells us, that the first Lioness ever brought to England, died in the Tower in 1773, after having attained a great age.