Transcriber’s Notes

This e-text is based on ‘Cassell’s Natural History, Vol. II,’ from 1896. Inconsistent and uncommon spelling and hyphenation have been retained; punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected.

The spelling of toponyms might differ slightly from today’s orthographical conventions.

THE QUEEN’S LION IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, LONDON.
(From a Photograph by Symmons and Co., Chancery Lane, taken expressly for this work.)

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LARGER IMAGE]

CASSELL’S
NATURAL HISTORY

EDITED BY

P. MARTIN DUNCAN, M.B. (LOND.), F.R.S., F.G.S.

PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN AND HONORARY FELLOW OF KING’S COLLEGE, LONDON; CORRESPONDENT OF THE ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES, PHILADELPHIA

VOL. II.

ILLUSTRATED

CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED

LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE

1896

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE LAND CARNIVORA.

PROFESSOR W. KITCHEN PARKER, F.R.S., F.L.S., &c., AND PROFESSOR T. JEFFERY PARKER

THE AQUATIC OR MARINE CARNIVORA.

JAMES MURIE, M.D., LL.D., F.L.S., F.G.S., &c.

CETACEA.

JAMES MURIE, M.D., LL.D.

SIRENIA.

JAMES MURIE, M.D., LL.D.

PROBOSCIDEA.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM BOYD DAWKINS, M.A., F.R.S., &c., AND H. W. OAKLEY.

HYRACOIDEA.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM BOYD DAWKINS, M.A., F.R.S., AND H. W. OAKLEY.

UNGULATA:—

PERISSODACTYLA:

EQUIDÆ,
TAPIRIDÆ,
RHINOCEROTIDÆ,

ARTIODACTYLA:

SUIDÆ,
HIPPOPOTAMIDÆ.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM BOYD DAWKINS, M.A., F.R.S., H. W. OAKLEY, AND PROFESSOR A. H. GARROD, M.A., F.R.S.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

CASSELL’S NATURAL HISTORY.

LION OF GUZERAT.

THE CARNIVORA.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS—THE CAT FAMILY.

The Carnivora—Division into Terrestrial (Fissipedia) and Aquatic (Pinnipedia)—Introductory Remarks on the [FISSIPEDIA]—Their Relations to Man and to other Animals—Their Distribution over the Surface of the Globe—Their Structure—The Diversity of their Form and Habits—Their Division into Lesser Groups—[THE CAT FAMILY]—Their Geographical and Chronological Distribution—Their Skeleton—The Peculiarities of their Skull, Teeth, &c.

The Carnivora, or flesh-eating Mammals, form a fourth order of the Mammalia, and are divided into two great groups, or sub-orders as they are called by zoologists, one terrestrial, and the other aquatic. The first is the group of the Fissipedia, or “split-feet,” so called from the fact that the feet are divided into well-marked toes; the second is the group of the Pinnipedia, or “fin-feet” (Seals, &c.), so called from the fact that the toes are bound together by skin, forming fins or flippers rather than feet.

THE LAND CARNIVORA.[1]

This group, which comprises all the great “beasts of prey,” is one of the most compact, as well as one of the most interesting among the Mammalia. So many of the animals contained in it have become “familiar in our mouths as household words,” bearing as they do an important part in fable, in travel, and even in history: so many of them are of such wonderful beauty, so many of such terrible ferocity, that no one can fail to be interested in them, even apart from the fact likely to influence us more in their favour than any other—that the two home pets which of all others are the commonest and the most interesting belong to the group.

No one who has had a Dog friend, no one who has watched the wonderful instance of maternal love afforded by a Cat with her kittens, no one who loves riding across country after a Fox, no lady with a taste for handsome furs, no boy who has read of Lion and Tiger hunts, and has longed to emulate the doughty deeds of the hunter, can fail to be interested in an assemblage which furnishes animals at once so useful, so beautiful, and so destructive.

It must not be supposed from the name of this group that all its members are exclusively flesh-eaters—and, indeed, it will be hardly necessary to warn the reader against falling into this mistake, as there are few people who have never given a Dog a biscuit, or a Bear a bun. Still, both the Dog and several kinds of Bears prefer flesh-meat when they can get it; but there are some Bears which live almost exclusively on fruit, and are therefore in strictness not carnivorous at all. The name must, however, be taken as a sort of general title for a certain set of animals which have certain characters in common, and which differ from all other animals in particular ways.

Comparatively few of the flesh-eaters are of direct use to man, at any rate while alive, yet one member of the group—the Dog—is the most useful of all domestic quadrupeds, though derived from one of the most savage of all—the Wolf. The Ferret, the Cheetah and the Cat are also more or less domesticated; but they come far below the Dog in amiable qualities, and in value to man. Below their value in service comes the use of their most beautiful skins; and still lower down the scent, derivable from a few species. Yet from these two last sources our fair ones seek to derive new charms, not heeding the poet Cowley’s quaint objurgation:—

“The adorning thee with so much art

Is but a dangerous skill;

Like to the poisoning of a dart,

Too apt, before, to kill.”

Most of the Carnivora may be looked upon as man’s natural enemies, for he has no chance of making headway unless he can keep “the beast of the field” from “increasing upon him.” Amongst primæval men, the tribes who made the best weapons to keep off these, the destroyers of their families, were certain to succeed best in the struggle for existence, so that the act of sharpening a flint-stone to repel the attack of some wild beast may be said to have prepared the way for civilisation, for flint knives led to bronze hatchets, bronze hatchets to axes and hammers of iron, and when once iron-working was understood and appreciated, civilisation went on with gigantic strides.

Besides acting as one of the severest of schoolmasters in the hard school of adversity in which man has been trained, the flesh-eaters serve to keep in check, and indirectly to bring to perfection, the grass-eating tribes. Upon these—the Oxen, Antelopes, Wild Asses, &c.—the large Carnivora delight to prey; in so doing they have to put forth all their powers, their agility, strength, and cunning, while the Herbivores, at the same time, have acquired caution and swiftness of foot in the highest degree, in order to escape from their ruthless and implacable destroyers.

While the larger beasts of prey keep in check the troops of great hoofed animals, the smaller kinds, such as Cats and Ferrets, have a most important office in thinning the constantly multiplying ranks of gnawing animals, such as Rats and Mice, which would otherwise prove a plague of the worst description. Indirectly, too, our Carnivora may even influence largely the spread of certain kinds of vegetation: for instance, as Mr. Darwin has shown, where there are no Cats there is no clover! This seems strange, not to say fabulous, but it is known that clover will only flourish when there are plenty of Humble-bees, the only insects able to carry the fertilising pollen from flower to flower, and so ensure a good supply of seed for the next crop. Now, Field Mice are particularly hostile to Humble-bees, knowing quite well where to find their nests and combs, and how to get at their honey, of which they are very fond. Thus, where Field Mice exist in great numbers, Humble-bees will be comparatively few. But Mice are chiefly kept down by Cats, and so the end of this biological “house that Jack built” is that to ensure a good crop of clover it is advisable to have plenty of Cats about!

The conception of the fearful struggle for existence going on between beast and beast has been caught by Shakspere in a wonderful passage in his “Timon of Athens.” Apemantus would “give the world to the beasts to be rid of the men,” whereupon Timon asks him whether he would have himself “fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts.” Apemantus answers in the affirmative, and Timon’s rejoinder is as follows: “A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to! If thou wert the Lion, the Fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the Lamb, the Fox would eat thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accused by the Ass: if thou wert the Ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the Wolf: if thou wert the Wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the Unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert thou a Bear, thou wouldst be killed by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou wouldst be seized by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert german to the Lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence, absence.” To learn the truth of these words, one has only to turn to any book of travel in Africa or India, where one is certain to read of a wholesale destruction which it is melancholy to think of.

In Great Britain this conflict is a thing of the past; but two terrible enemies of man even there have been extirpated within the historic period—namely, the Wolf and the Bear; of these and of their extirpation we shall speak when we come to describe those types. Now, happily, these greedy Carnivora are “scattered and peeled—meted out and trodden down.” Far in the north of the island there is the wild Cat, the two Martens are becoming scarcer and scarcer; the Badger is found here and there; the Polecat is rare; so that the Fox, the Stoat, and the Weasel—the last being the very least and meanest of the order alone are common.

But in the later geological epoch—pre-historic as to us—the nobler types abounded, and Great Britain was then as much the land of savage beasts as Africa and India are now.

The Carnivora are found all over the world, from the equator to the poles: in most parts of the globe they are abundant, the great exception being the Australian region of zoological geography, namely, the immense island of Australia, which can only boast of a Dog, doubtfully native, and New Zealand and the adjacent Polynesian Islands, which are quite devoid of members of the group, the native Dog of New Zealand having probably been recently introduced.

Many forms have become extinct, and, as we shall see when we come to speak of these bygone creatures, the lower we dig in the strata which compose the rocks of which our earth is made, the lower do the types become, that is to say, among the extinct Carnivora we have no animals so perfectly constructed for flesh-eating as the Cat family, for instance, but the various kinds get nearer and nearer, the lower we go, to what may be called the general plan of Mammalian structure, and farther and farther from the special type of structure found in the higher Carnivores of the present day.

There is considerable range of size among the various members of the group, the Lion and Tiger being the largest, the Weasel and Suricate the smallest. As to their habits, the Carnivore are very varied; leaving out as we do for the present the fin-footed Seals, Sea Bears, and Walruses, we yet have the semi-aquatic Otter and the Enhydra, or Sea Otter, both at home in the watery element, and most expert swimmers and divers; but for the most part the flesh-eaters are inhabitants of the copse, the jungle, and the forest. Many are nimble climbers, some are arboreal in their habits, living entirely in trees, and most are crepuscular, that is, hunt their prey after dusk.

As to their diet, we mentioned above that they are by no means all flesh-eaters; in fact there is every gradation from those which live exclusively on animal food, such as the Lion, Tiger, &c., to the purely herbivorous kinds of Bear. Some again, such as the Cat family, seem to prefer flesh-meat, others, such as the Otter, adopt a Lenten diet, and feed on fish or eggs. This matter, however, is, of course, largely determined by the habitat of the animal, those whose habitation is inland being compelled to devour land animals, while those living by the sea or by river-banks usually take to fish either occasionally or as a regular thing.

Turning to the structure of the group, one of the first things that strikes us is the looseness of their skin, which, instead of being stretched on the body as tightly as a drum parchment, as it is in grass-eaters—for instance, the Ox or Hippopotamus—is quite “baggy,” having between it and the flesh of the beast a layer of the loosest possible fibres. It is for this reason that the skin of any but a very fat Dog can be pinched up so readily, while of a Herbivore it may be said, in the words of eulogy uttered by Mr. Squeers of his son Wackford, “Here’s firmness, here’s solidness! why you can hardly get up enough of him between your fingers and thumb to pinch him anywheres.” In consequence of this the operation of skinning a Lion or Bear is a comparatively easy one. After the first cut the beast may be pulled out of his skin, almost without further use of the knife; while with an Antelope or an Ox the skin has to be cut away carefully and laboriously from the underlying flesh.

The use of this loose skin will be very evident to any one who will take the trouble to watch the great Cats playing together at the Zoological Gardens. They are continually scratching one another, but the loose skin is dragged round by the claws which, in consequence, can get no hold, and do no harm; with a tight skin, on the other hand, the slightest scratch of such a claw as a Tiger’s would cause a serious wound. The looseness of the skin is very evident in the Puma and Jaguar, in which it hangs in a fold along the middle of the belly, like a great dewlap.

In the Carnivora the skeleton, or bony framework of the body, attains its utmost perfection, both as a tissue and as machinery. Its tissue is dense, white, and ivory-like, every bone is exquisitely moulded and polished, so that there are few more beautiful objects of study than a well-prepared Cat’s skeleton, and almost none more instructive or better calculated to give an idea of the perfection of “animal mechanics.” The flexibility and strength of the spine, the exquisite fitting of its joints, the small head capable of being turned in almost any direction in the search for prey or the avoidance of danger, the wonderful arrangement of levers afforded by the limbs, which exhibit at once the greatest amount of strength and the greatest amount of elasticity, all combine to fill the mind with wonder and admiration, as great as that excited by the most perfect work of art or the most stupendous phenomenon of inanimate nature.

UPPER VIEW OF LION’S SKULL.

The skull of nearly all Carnivora is distinguished from that of most other Mammals by its immense strength, and its evident adaptation to the habits of its possessor—to the effective seizing and devouring of living prey. It is remarkable for the immense roughened bony ridges, developed in many parts of it, which serve for the attachment of the mighty jaw-muscles, the great size of which causes an increase in the width of the bony jugal arch, extending from under the eye to just in front of the ear. Another point worthy of notice is the great shortening of the jaws, or of the facial in relation to the cranial portions of the skull. In this respect Carnivores, especially the most typical forms, the Cats, are very markedly distinguished from Herbivores, in which the brain-case is small and the face immensely prolonged. This has to do with the different kind of food used by the two groups—that of vegetable-eaters requiring long grinding, that of flesh-eaters powerful mincing. Connected also with this same function of mastication is the form of the condyle, or bony projection of the lower jaw, by which it moves on the skull, and of the smooth surface of the latter which receives it. These are in Carnivora greatly elongated transversely, and narrowed from before backwards, so that no motion from side to side, but only an up-and-down motion, is possible. The higher Carnivora, therefore, cannot chew or grind their food, but only mince it, their sharp teeth acting exactly like scissor-blades. In the interior of the skull should be noticed a large plate of bone which extends inwards and separates the great brain, or cerebrum, from the lesser brain, or cerebellum, and prevents the jarring of that important organ likely to arise from the animal’s vigorous movements.

SKELETON OF LION.

In the spine, or vertebral column, there is not much to notice beyond the great size of the first two vertebræ, or those which support the head, and the development of strong spines or processes for the attachment of muscles.

SKELETON OF POLAR BEAR.

In the limbs there are certain points of considerable interest and importance. If a Bear and a Lion be watched while walking, a great difference will be observed in their gait: the Bear’s movements are far clumsier and less springy than those of the Lion. A little further observation will show that this is due, chiefly, to the manner in which their feet are set on the limbs, for it will be seen that the Bear keeps the sole of his foot flat on the ground, and, as his foot is very large, he has something of the awkward, sprawling movement of a man walking in shoes too big for him. The Lion, on the other hand, has his wrist and his heel lifted well above the ground, and so walks, not on the sole of his foot, but on his toes, the under surfaces of which are furnished with beautifully soft leathery pads, so as to ensure a soft, silent footstep. Then what looks like the knee of a Lion, Cat, or Dog is really his wrist. and what looks like a backward turned knee in his hind leg is his heel, the true elbow and knee being almost hidden by the skin.

The reason of this arrangement is seen by looking at the skeletons of the two animals. In the Bear the metacarpals and metatarsals, or five long bones extending between the wrist and the ankle respectively, and the joints of the toes, are kept in a horizontal position, as in ourselves; in the Lion, on the contrary, the metacarpals and metatarsals are lifted almost into a vertical position, the walking surface being now afforded by the under surface of the toe-bones, or phalanges. By reason of this the Lion gets an extra lever in his leg, in addition to the two levers which the Bear possesses, namely, those afforded by the bones of the arm and fore-arm and of the thigh and leg respectively; and consequently his springiness is greatly increased. An animal which walks like the Bear, on the sole of its foot, is said to be plantigrade: one which walks on its fingers, like the Lion, Cat, or Dog, is called digitigrade.

As in all animals in which the fore limbs are used for support, and not for prehension, the collar-bone, or clavicle, is either wholly absent or quite rudimentary, and the fore limb has therefore no bony connection with the trunk, but is attached simply by muscles and ligaments. The Carnivores, in leaping or running, often come down with their whole weight upon the fore legs, and if a large bony clavicle, like that of a Monkey or Bat, were present, it would infallibly be broken.

The bones are all strongly bound together by elastic bands, or ligaments, and are covered by the great fibrous masses, or muscles, which, forming as they do the flesh, take the chief share in giving to each animal its characteristic shape. These muscles are, in most instances, attached to the bones by strong cords or bands resembling the ligaments, and called tendons. The bones being, in great measure, articulated or jointed to one another by smooth surfaces, sometimes flat, sometimes round, sometimes pulley-like, act as levers. The muscles are usually attached at one end to a fixed at the other to a movable bone; when they act, by shortening in length and widening in diameter, they make the more movable bone to turn upon the other. In this way they cause the limbs to be straightened or bent, the jaws to be opened or shut, the claws extended or retracted, and perform all the other movements of which the animal is capable. The development of the muscles in the larger Carnivora is wonderfully great. A Lion will kill an Ox with a blow of his paw, and drag it off to his lair as easily as his humble relation, the Cat, disposes of a Rat or Mouse.

We now have to consider a most important series of organs—the organs of alimentation or nutrition; those, in fact, which serve the purposes of taking in, preparing, and digesting the food. They are the mouth with its tongue, teeth, and salivary glands, the gullet, stomach, and intestines, with the liver, and sweetbread, or pancreas.

We are all familiar in ourselves with four kinds of teeth, namely (1), the “incisors,” or cutting teeth, in front; (2), the “canines,” the pointed eye-teeth that come next; (3), the “false grinders,” or “premolars;” and (4), the true grinders, or “molars.” Man has a very even and full-mouthed series; the Carnivora, on the other hand, possess a most irregular series, and in this series there are certain gaps or interspaces. Our own even orderly set is best adapted for a mixed diet, that has for the most part undergone a great amount of change by cooking. But the Carnivora, in their wild state, must eat flesh raw, and for the most part reeking, and this has to be torn from the conquered prey. So that the teeth have to be applicable to the first, or destructive process, and then to the tearing to pieces of the fleshly substance, and the scraping of the bones; they may even have to crush the bones themselves, the more spongy parts serving for food; and, greatest feat of all, to break the hardest long bones for the succulent marrow.

The mode of feeding and the form and number of the teeth of necessity correspond: tearing and gnawing are processes that need teeth like knives and scissors, while grinding or chewing require teeth like millstones. Both these kinds exist in the Bear. In the Dog the crushing teeth become less in size and importance; in the Lion they are suppressed, and all the teeth have a cutting character, their number being at the same time much reduced.

The teeth are often all that remains of certain extinct creatures; they are, therefore, a most important part of the anatomy of an animal, as well as being of great service in the matter of classification or grouping. They are the hardest of all the organs; their relation to the food of the species, and their necessary correlation to the digestive organs, makes them serve as a key to the rest of the creature’s structure, which structure is in absolute harmony with its habits and daily life.

STOMACH OF LION.

The tongue is covered with horny projections, or papillæ, and in the Cat tribe serves as a rasp to rub and scrape off the smaller fragments of flesh from the bones. The stomach is always simple, that is, consists of a bagpipe-like cavity not divided into compartments, as in the Ruminants and some other animals. A great difference from herbivorous animals is also seen in the length of the intestine. As the food is of a highly nourishing nature it requires less time for its digestion, and a smaller surface for its absorption into the blood, and the intestine is therefore remarkably short—not more than three times the length of the body in the Lion and Wild Cat, instead of being fifteen to thirty times the length, as in some vegetable feeders. The Carnivora have, therefore, the manifest advantage of a more compact and smaller “barrel” than the Herbivora, and, in consequence, have less weight to carry, and are slim and slender-waisted.

As might naturally be expected, the organs by which the blood, loaded with nourishment from the digestive canal, is carried to all parts of the body, are well developed. The heart, if not “as hard as the nether millstone,” is yet compact and strong in the highest degree: the circulation is vigorous, and the result is seen in great courage and astonishing powers of endurance.

BRAIN OF DOG.

In the lungs, with the windpipe and larynx, in which the multitudinous cries of the group—barks, howls, roars, and whines—are produced, there is nothing to merit any special mention.

The brain of Carnivora is, as a rule, remarkably large and well formed, in conformity with their high degree of intelligence. Its surface is thrown into well-marked ridges with intervening depressions, and presents a great contrast with the almost smooth brain of a Shrew or a Hedgehog. From it are given off nerves to the tongue, teeth, skin, muscles, and other parts of the head, as well as some to organs at a considerable distance from the head, as the heart, lungs, and stomach, and, most important of all, three pairs of nerves, one for each of the organs of the higher senses—the nose, eye, and ear.

LONGITUDINAL SECTION THROUGH A DOG’S NOSE, SHOWING THE SPONGY BONES. (Nat. Size. From a Sketch by T. J. Parker)

a. The smelling region; b. The sneezing region; c. A bristle passed through the nostril into the nasal chamber; d. A bristle passed from the nasal chamber into the passage by which the latter communicates with the mouth.

The two nerves of smell pass through a beautifully-perforated bone—hence called the “sieve-bone,” or ethmoid—and proceed one on each side of a bony and gristly wall which divides the two nasal chambers from one another, to a delicate membrane covering a pair of bones of wonderful complexity—a labyrinth which must be seen to be understood, for the beautiful manner in which it enfolds itself can hardly be imagined. These “spongy-bones,” as they are called, the membrane covering which forms the true organ of smell, lie in the upper and hinder part of each nasal cavity, but in front of them is a large scroll of bone, also covered by a membrane of exquisite sensitiveness, but not taking cognisance of odours. This anti-chamber, as it were, of the nose, is extremely sensitive, and its sensibility is a safeguard against intrusive dust, and deadly disease-germs. It is the sneezing region, and is the natural and most careful porter of the gates of the breath.

The way in which the eyes of the Carnivora are set in their head indicates their habits of life. They look straight forward, and are expressive, in the nobler kinds, of the energy and cruelty of their owner’s disposition. As in many of the Lemurs, the eye possesses what is called a tapetum, a sort of reflecting mirror in the bottom of the eye, which redoubles, as it were, the faint rays of evening, evidently a very important thing for these, mostly nocturnal, animals.

The sense of hearing is as perfect as that of sight; not, perhaps, in the higher, musical sense of the word, but for catching the faintest and feeblest undulations of the air. The Mole is supposed to be most sharp of hearing; but it is a question whether he is quicker of hearing than his cruel neighbour the Rabbit-killing Weasel. Any one who has watched a Cat sitting demurely by a Mouse-hole, or a Terrier on the look out for a Rat, will give these Carnivores credit for the most acute sense of sound. Anatomy corroborates what simple observation suggests, and the internal as well as external organs of hearing in the Carnivora are most exquisitely perfect.

Many members of the group live in families, that is, a male and female with their young form a little coterie by themselves, and associate very little with other families. Very few live in great societies or herds, after the manner of the grass-eating animals, such as Oxen, Antelopes, or Wild Horses, but an exception to this is afforded by the Wild Dogs of Constantinople, which roam the streets in great numbers, and by Wolves, which invariably hunt in packs.

The Dogs and Wolves, besides being gregarious, resemble the Herbivora in another and far less amiable characteristic, that is, they do not choose a mate for life or even for a season, but let their affections run wild and practise the most unmitigated polygamy and polyandry. Many of the larger Cats, on the contrary—the Lion, for instance—choose a mate, to whom they are wonderfully faithful.

The young are always born in a comparatively helpless condition, not able to run about at once like a new-born Calf or Foal; they are generally blind for some time after birth, and are entirely dependent on the mother for food and warmth.

The higher Carnivora are most kind parents, and to the best of their ability, educate their young. This was well known to the ancients: Ezekiel the prophet (xix. 2, 3) gives this character of the Lioness in inimitable language: “What is thy mother? A Lioness: she lay down among Lions, she nourished her whelps among young Lions. And she brought up one of her whelps: it became a young Lion, and it learned to catch the prey; it devoured men.” All writers bear witness to the painstaking way in which the parent Lion or Tiger trains up its young and practises them for their trade of slaughter. Sometimes both parents, sometimes only one, go out with their offspring, and by example and precept show them the safest places to hide, the proper moment to spring, the best place to seize the victim, and so on. And the future tyrants are very apt, they thoroughly enjoy their schooling, and make the best possible use of their opportunities; so much so that the young of the great Cats are far more dreaded than the old ones, as they not only kill to satisfy hunger, but commit wholesale slaughter, simply for practice and to keep their paws in.

The diversity of form and structure in the group of land Carnivora is very great. We find, as in the groups we have considered previously, many different kinds or species, amongst which are creatures so different as the great and powerful Lion and the small and insignificant Weasel, the active Tiger and Jaguar, and the lazy Glutton. These species, as very little observation shows us, naturally fall into certain larger groups or genera, having important characteristics in common; for instance, the Lion, Tiger, Leopard, Jaguar, Lynx, and all the small Cats, are so much like one another, and so different from all other animals, as to be put in the one genus Felis, which is distinguished by having retractile claws, and by being quite devoid of true grinding teeth. Again, the Dog and Wolf have so many points in common, that they are placed in the single genus Canis, the Dog being called Canis familiaris, the Wolf Canis lupus. If a number of genera are found to agree pretty closely with one another in essential matters, they are grouped into a family; thus we have the family Mustelidæ, which includes not only the Weasel (Mustela), but a number of other genera, such as the Otter, Badger, Skunk, and many others. Furthermore, the families are conveniently grouped into sub-orders, according to characters considered to be of greater importance than those which determine genera or families. We may roughly compare this method of grouping to the way in which the soldiers in an army are arranged. Thus, individual men—corresponding to species—are arranged in companies, which we may take to represent genera; several companies are united into a regiment, just as a number of genera are united into a family; a greater or less number of regiments go to form a battalion, in the same way as the families go to form a sub-order; and, lastly, two or three battalions constitute an army, which is the complete assemblage, and corresponds, in our rough illustration, to an order.

We suppose that nine persons out of ten, if asked to give three common examples of land Carnivores, would, almost without hesitation, name the Cat, the Dog, and the Bear. The most accomplished naturalist would be unable to give a better answer to this question, as those three well-known animals are types of the three primary sections into which the whole sub-order is divided, and which may, in fact, be termed respectively the groups of the Cats, Dogs, and Bears. It must be borne in mind, however, that the words are here used in the broadest and most general sense, for the group of “Cats” includes not only the animals properly so-called, but also the Civets, Ichneumons, Hyænas, whilst amongst “Bears” are grouped Racoons, Otters, Badgers, Weasels, and many others.

It will, perhaps, be as well to give the scientific names for these three groups which we have, most unscientifically, called Cats, Dogs, and Bears. We have first the Æluroidea,[2] or Cat-like animals; next the Cynoidea,[3] or Dog-like animals; and, lastly, the Arctoidea,[4] or Bear-like animals. We also give below a list of the families of land Carnivores arranged under their respective sections, with the most important forms belonging to each family; as such a list will, in all probability, be useful for reference.[5]

The splitting up of our flesh-eaters into these sections is not an arbitrary matter, but is determined by certain definite anatomical characters, one of the chief of which is the structure of the base of the skull. These matters will, however, be better discussed under the various families, when we shall also devote a short time to that very important branch of anatomy, the form, number, and arrangement of the teeth.

THE CAT FAMILY.[6]

This is the chief of the families of Carnivora, containing as it does all the great beasts of prey. Its members are the most perfectly constructed of animals for a life of rapine; their weapons—teeth and claws—attain the utmost degree of perfection, and their elegant form, silent movements, and often beautiful colouring, make them in every respect the culminating forms of the flesh-eating group, and one of the chief of the upper branches of the great Mammalian tree.

Both the Old and New World are well stocked with Cats. Everywhere they are the correlates, geographically speaking, of the beautiful forms of the Herbivora, and are their natural checkmates in the earth-peopling process. Their terrible office is to cull out the surplus number of Goats, Antelopes, Deer, Oxen, and Sheep; they also are not good neighbours to the Monkey tribes, nor to Rats, Cavies, Hares, Squirrels, and other gnawing animals. The smaller Cats also add feathered game to their diet. Everywhere they are the terror of woodland and of field, of plain and of forest. All are of the kindred of the Lion, and, like him, all “go about, seeking whom they may devour.”

Man has half tamed one of the smallest—we say half tamed, for does not the demon that possesses all Cats still only slumber in the heart of the tamest domestic variety? As for the Hunting Leopard, he is deceived in the services he renders, and, in his own mind, is hunting for himself, and not for his master.

It is only necessary to mention the animals belonging to this noble family of “gentlemen caterers” to assure oneself that in it are contained the best known, the most skilled, the most perfectly armed of all the Carnivorous order. We have the Wild Cats existing under many forms nearly all over the world, the Lion the great tyrant of Africa, the Tiger the despot of India, the Puma and Jaguar taking their place in America, the Leopard helping the work of the Lion and Tiger in Africa and Asia, the Lynxes found in both Old and New Worlds, and the Cheetah, or Hunting Leopard of Asia and Africa. To these need only be added the Wolf, Hyæna, and Bear, to exhaust the list of “beasts of prey” in the ordinary acceptation of the term, that is, of beasts which are dangerous to man, for we “lords of creation” are not sufficiently generous to include under the term beasts of equal cruelty which prey on the lower animals.

By most naturalists all these animals are grouped together under the single genus Felis, which is thus said to include a great number of species, as Felis leo (the Lion), Felis tigris (the Tiger), Felis catus (the wild Cat), &c. It is very usual to separate from the rest the Hunting Leopard, and make it constitute by itself a distinct genus, Cynælurus, or Gueparda, distinguished from its cousins by its great length of leg, and a slight difference in the form of its teeth. Some naturalists separate, in addition, the Lynxes, making of them the genus Lyncus, and others, again, prefer to make separate genera of all the chief kinds, calling the Lion Leo nobilis, the Tiger Tigris regalis, and so forth. This separation or union is, however, a mere conventional matter, and we prefer to consider all Felidæ as belonging to the one genus Felis, as the simplest and most comprehensible plan.

The Felidæ are found over almost the whole world, being absent only in Australia, New Zealand, the south-eastern part of the Malay Archipelago, the Polynesian Islands, Madagascar, and the Antilles. In all other parts of the world Cats—using the word in a wide sense—are found, and, wherever they are found they are feared, for such a compact assemblage of bloodthirsty tyrants and ruthless destroyers has no parallel in the whole animal kingdom.

Remains of fossil Felidæ have been found as far back as the Miocene or even the Eocene epoch, in the South of England, and Central and South Europe, in North-west India, in Nebraska, in North America, and in the caves of Brazil. Of these the best known is the great cave Lion or Tiger, the Felis spelæa.

Every part of these animals is so altered and specialised from the usual type of Mammalian structure as to assist in the best possible way the capturing, killing, and devouring of living prey. Looking merely at the outside, we are struck with the lithe, agile form, the small head, the total absence of anything like a “pot-belly,” the well-proportioned limbs, the usually close fur, the stealthy, silent movements, and the eager, restless glance: all characters suited to an animal to which powers of quiet rapid movement through jungle or long grass, of quick observation, and of great strength and agility, are of the utmost importance.

In the skeleton there are two points of importance, as relating both to the habits of the Cat tribe and to the determining of their systematic position in zoology. These are the character of the skull, and the structure and arrangement of the bones of the toes. Both these points furnish characters by which the Cats may be separated from all other families. To these two points, therefore, we will proceed at once, as, without going into lesser details, there is nothing of special importance in the vertebral column, large limb bones, &c. All the points mentioned in the introduction to the group as being characteristic of the Carnivorous type of skull are here carried to their extreme. The bony ridges for the attachment of the jaw-muscles are immense; the jaws attain their utmost limit of structure and strength, and the lower jaw being perfectly incapable of motion from side to side, the teeth, as we shall see by-and-by, act like scissors and not like mill-stones.

If the skull of a Cat be examined, there will be seen on its under surface, near the hinder end, a pair of rounded swellings, directed somewhat obliquely. On looking at the skull from the side, there is seen to be a roundish aperture, the auditory meatus, leading into each of these swellings, which are found to be thin-walled half globes, stuck on, as it were, to the under surface of the skull. Round the aperture is fixed, in the living state, the Cat’s prominent external ear, and stretched across it, like the parchment of a drum, is a thin membrane, which vibrates with every sound. The rounded cavity is called the “drum of the ear,” the membrane stretched across it the “drum membrane,” or “tympanic membrane,” and the bony half-globe, which forms the floor of the drum cavity, is the “bulb of the drum,” or bulla tympani.

SIDE VIEW OF LION’S SKULL.

a.m, auditory meatus; b.ty, bulla tympani; j, jugal arch or zygoma; o.c, occipital condyle for the articulation of the skull with the first vertebra; c, condyle of the lower jaw; g, glenoid cavity with which the condyle of the lower jaw articulates; p, the bony clamp, or paroccipital process.

Closely pressed against the hinder wall of this bulla is a sort of bony clamp, which seems to keep the bulla in its place, and running obliquely along the surface of the swelling is an indistinct groove, corresponding to which, in the interior of the drum, is a bony wall, dividing the drum cavity into an inner and an outer compartment, these two divisions being formed from separate bones, as an examination of a very young skull will show.

The almost globular form and great relative size of the bulla tympani; the absence of any distinct bony passage leading from its cavity to the interior, the opening being quite flush with the wall of the drum; and the division of the cavity into two parts by a bony partition, are all very important as distinctive characters of the Cat family, and also, with lesser modifications, of the whole Æluroid group.

UNDER VIEW OF LION’S SKULL.

The letters have the same significance as in the side view.

The power of retracting the claws, so characteristic a feature of all the true Cats (which are, without exception, digitigrade), is brought about by certain peculiarities of structure of the last two joints of the toes. Of the three phalanges, or bones which make up the skeleton of the toe, the first, or that nearest to the wrist or ankle, is of the ordinary shape: about three times as long as broad, with a regular cylindrical shaft, and pulley-like ends, for articulation with the bone to which it is joined. The second, or middle phalanx, is pretty much like the first, except that its shaft is scooped out on one side, so as to make a greater distance between it and the corresponding bone of the next toe than there would otherwise be. The third and last joint, called the ungual phalanx, from the fact of its supporting the claw, has the regular pulley-surface to articulate with the preceding joint, but its farther end is strongly curved downwards and pointed at the end; it has, in fact, the shape of the horny talon of which it forms the supporting core. Further support is afforded to the claw by an outgrowth of the phalanx, which commences near its articular end, and grows over the end of the claw like a sort of hood, thus giving the ungual phalanx of the Cat a most peculiar and unmistakable shape. Between the upper surfaces of the last phalanx and the last but one passes a strong and very elastic ligament, which so pulls upon the ungual phalanx as to bend it on its predecessor, and so cause the two to be almost parallel, the hood of the claw-bearing bone being received between the preceding joint of its own toe and that of the next; hence the scooping out of the middle phalanges. Thus, by the action of this ligament, the claw under ordinary circumstances is pulled back within its covering of skin, which forms for it a sort of protecting pouch, and effectually prevents its being worn down by rubbing against the ground. But when the Cat strikes its prey, it bends the paw upon the wrist by means of the strong flexor (or bending) muscles, which are placed along the under surface of the fore-arm and hand. The end of the string-like tendons of one of these muscles divides into four slips, one for each toe, and, running along the under surface of the first two phalanges, is inserted into the corresponding surface of the third, and, this under surface being bent upwards by the elastic ligament, the tendon is, when the claw is retracted, put upon the stretch. But when the flexors come into play, they pull upon the ungual phalanx, causing it to turn through a quarter-circle upon its articulation, and thus protruding the claw from its pouch. Immediately the flexors relax the elastic ligament is again allowed to act, and the claw springs back into its place of repose.

TENDONS AND LIGAMENTS OF A CAT’S TOE.
(Twice Natural Size. From a Sketch by T. J. Parker.)

A, with the claw retracted; B, with the claw exserted; mtc, the metacarpal; ph. 1 , the first; ph. 2, the second; ph. 3, the third phalanx; h, the bony “hood;” c, the claw; l, the elastic ligament; t, the flexor tendon; a, a ligamentous loop, through which the tendon passes.

This arrangement is of great importance, as the Cat family always attack their prey in the first instance by a stroke of the powerful fore-paw, and not, as do the Dogs, by a grip of the teeth.

Not less characteristic of the Cat family than the points we have just considered are the number and form of the teeth, which here attain the most perfectly carnivorous character, being so constructed as to be wholly incapable of grinding, thus making it impossible for their possessor to live upon any but highly nourishing animal food.

In the front part of the Cat’s upper jaw are six small teeth with chisel-like edges—three on each side of the middle line. These teeth are, in shape, not unlike our own front teeth, and, like them, are single-fanged, but their small size, when compared with those that follow, is remarkable. They are borne by a bone quite distinct in young skulls from that which carries the other teeth—the premaxillary bone—and are, therefore, classed as incisor teeth. Corresponding with them in the lower jaw are six similar teeth—the lower incisors; so that the incisors of the Cat are said to be (3–3)(3–3), that is, three on each side above and below.

LION’S CLAW, SHEATHED AND UNSHEATHED.

Following the last incisor, and separated from it by a short interval, comes on each side in both jaws a long, pointed fang, the chief means by which the Cats seize and hold on to their prey. These are the canines, or dog-teeth, and correspond to the “eye-teeth” in ourselves, those adze-like teeth immediately following and slightly projecting beyond the last incisor. When the mouth is closed the lower canines are seen to bite in front of the upper, and to fit into the space between the latter and the incisors. The canines of the Cat are written thus, (1–1)(1–1).

Following the canines, but separated from them by a slight interval or diastema, are, in the upper jaw four, in the lower three teeth, which correspond to our “grinders,” or molars and premolars. In the upper jaw the foremost tooth of this set is as small as one of the incisors, and its crown is simple, or nearly so. The next two teeth are larger and have sharp, cutting edges, divided into three points, or cusps. The second of these two teeth is much the larger, its edge is more blade-like, and the front part of its inner edge sends off a strong blunt process, which is supported by a distinct root, so that this tooth has three roots instead of two like its predecessor; it is also of much greater size than any of those in front, and, biting like a scissor-blade against the corresponding tooth of the lower jaw, is called the sectorial, or carnassial tooth. Behind it comes the last of the set, a small tooth with a transversely-set, almost flat crown.

PERMANENT TEETH OF LION.

i. 3, the third incisor; c, the canine; p. 1, p. 2, p. 3, the premolars; m, the molars.

In the lower jaw, the grinding series is represented by only three teeth, all more or less resembling the second of the series in the upper jaw. Of these the third is the largest, and is called the lower carnassial, biting, as it does, against the upper tooth of that name. In every case the teeth of the lower jaw bite within those of the upper, and, the jaws being so articulated as to allow only of up and down motion, and being incapable of play from side to side, the molars and premolars entirely lose their character of grinders, and become trenchant, cutting up the food, in fact, in precisely the same manner as a pair of scissors.

Now comes the question, which of these teeth are premolars, and which molars? This is decided by finding which of them have their place occupied in the young kitten by its first set of back-teeth, the deciduous or milk molars, and which, on the other hand, have no predecessors: those which replace the milk molars being the premolars of the adult, those which arise as altogether new teeth, and have no representatives in the young animal, molars. The examination of a young Cat shows that there are, behind the canines, in the upper jaw three, and in the lower two teeth; that is to say, one less on each side of each jaw than in the adult. As age advances these deciduous or milk molars all drop out, and are replaced by the permanent premolars, while behind the last milk molar of each jaw an entirely new tooth makes its appearance—the true or permanent molar. Thus it is seen that only the last tooth in each jaw is a molar, and that the carnassials are of different natures in the two jaws, the upper being the last (third) premolar, the lower the single molar.

MILK TEETH OF LION, EXPOSED BY CUTTING AWAY THE OUTER PORTIONS OF BOTH JAWS.
(Natural size. From Owen, after Rousseau.)

d.i, deciduous incisors; d.c, deciduous canines; d.m.1, d.m.2, d.m.3, deciduous molars. The remaining letters have the same significance as in the [preceding figure].

We therefore write the premolars of the Cat (3–3)(2–2), and the molars (1–1)(1–1), so that the whole “dental formula” is as follows:—i., (3–3)(3–3), c., (1–1)(1–1), p., (3–3)(2–2), m., (1–1)(1–1) = 30. In the milk dentition, the number of incisors and canines is the same as in the adult, and, as we have just stated, the molars are absent, so that the formula is di., (3–3)(3–3), dc., (1–1)(1–1), dm., (3–3)(2–2) = 26, di, dc, dm, standing for deciduous incisors, canines, and molars.

The tongue in this family becomes an important adjunct to the teeth, almost losing its character as a delicate organ of taste. The little elevations or papillæ which beset the tongue in all animals—in ourselves for instance—are formed into strong horny spines set closely together like the teeth of a file, and, as may be seen any day at feeding-time at the Zoological Gardens, used to rasp the flesh from the bones as effectively as any file would do it. Most people must have noticed the different texture of a Cat’s and a Dog’s tongue. In the latter it is as smooth as in ourselves, in the former it has more of the texture of a piece of coarse sandpaper.

In some Felidæ, such as the Domestic Cats, the pupil, or small aperture in front of the eye which lets in light to the sensitive retina beyond, has the round shape it possesses in man, only in the dark, when it is dilated to receive every ray of light available. In the day, on the other hand, when more light is to be had than the animal requires, the pupil contracts to an ellipse, or in the strongest light to a mere line. This is not the case in the larger Cats, such as the Lion, Tiger, and Leopard, in which also the eyes themselves and the cavities in the skull for their reception are smaller, proportionally, than in the Domestic Cat.

Taking the structure of the Cat tribe, all in all, there is nothing whatever to make it the least difficult to suppose that they all sprang from one stock, and that size and colour, and every other point in which they now differ from each other, may have been brought about, through long periods of time, as the result of the influence of their surroundings. It is necessary to presume this, for classifiers from necessity lay hold on the most minute differences, for the sake of making proper specific distinctions, although these differences may be merely the outcome of some change of locality, warmer, or colder, drier, or moister, higher upon the hills, or lower down on the plains. Once developed, however, it becomes hereditary, and then a variety becomes a race, and a race solidifies into a species. Yet, the result once obtained, however it arose, the profit is great to us who are careful observers and enthusiastic admirers of the infinite fecundity of Nature.

CHAPTER II.
THE CAT FAMILY—THE LION.

[THE LION]—Its Geographical Distribution at the Present Day and in Ancient Times—Its Haunts—Varieties of the Lion—Distinction between the Lion and other Cats—Its Courage, Speed, and Strength—Its Roar—Its Supposed Magnanimity—Its Habits—Man-eating—Occasional resort to Vegetable Diet—Love-making—The Lion-cubs and their Education—Old Age—Breeding in Captivity—Lion Hunting.

THE LION.[7]

THE “King of Beasts” must, of course, be placed at the head of our list of beasts of prey, for although he is excelled in size and ferocity by the Tiger, in elegance of form by the Leopard and Jaguar, and in beauty of colouring by most of the great Cats, yet it would be useless, even if it were advisable, to depose him from the throne he has, by the universal consent of mankind, so long occupied. And, truly, who would wish to uncrown him? He is anything but an amiable beast—cruel and cowardly, greedy, treacherous, noisy, and self-asserting, never forgetful of the “divine right of kings” to prey upon their subjects; but still he is quite on a level, in the matters of morality and fitness to reign, with a very large proportion of his brother sovereigns of the genus Homo, with whom he well deserves a place in that limbo where, according to the mildly-spiteful poet of Olney, dwell “all that ever reigned” of the kings of men.

The Lion is entirely confined to the Old World, where it ranges through Africa from Barbary to Cape Colony, and extends into the south-west corner of Asia, where its range just overlaps that of the Tiger. Except in this “debateable land” the two monarchs keep clear of one another, the Lion keeping court over Africa and South-west Asia, and the Tiger ruling in Southern and Eastern Asia, the most important pretender in either kingdom being the Leopard.

With respect to the subject of distribution of the Lion in ancient times, we will quote from a late able writer. “That Lions were once found in Europe there can be no doubt. Thus it is recorded by Herodotus that the baggage camels of the army of Xerxes were attacked by Lions in the country of the Pæonians and Crestonœi, on their march from Acanthus (near the peninsula of Mount Athos) to Therme, afterwards Thessalonica (now Salonika). The camels alone, it is stated, were attacked, other beasts remaining untouched as well as men. The same historian also observes that the limits in Europe within which Lions were then found were the Nessus or Nestus, a Thracian river running to Abdera, and the Achelous, which waters Acarnania. Aristotle mentions Europe as abundant in Lions, and especially in that part which is between the Achelous and Nessus, apparently copying the statement of Herodotus. Pliny does the same, and adds that the Lions of Europe are stronger than those of Africa and Syria. Pausanias copies the same story as to the attack of the Lions on the Camels of Xerxes; and he states, moreover, that Lions often descended into the plains at the foot of Olympus, which separates Macedonia from Thessaly, and that Polydamas, a celebrated athlete, a contemporary of Darius Nothus, slew one of them, although he was unarmed. The passage in Oppian, which some have considered as indicating the existence of Lions up to the banks of the Danube, fails, as an authority, for placing the Lion in that locality, because, as Cuvier observes, the context shows plainly that the name of Ista is there applied to an Armenian river, either by an error of the author or of the transcribers.”

Nor is Europe the only part of the world from which the form of the Lion has disappeared. Lions are no longer to be found in Egypt, Palestine, or Syria, where they were once evidently far from uncommon. The frequent allusion to the Lion in Scripture, and the various Hebrew terms there used to distinguish the different ages and the sex of the animal, prove a familiarity with the habits of the race. Even in Asia generally, with the exception of some countries between India and Persia, and some districts of Arabia, these magnificent beasts have become comparatively rare; and this is not to be wondered at. To say nothing of the immense draughts on the race for the Roman arena—and they were not inconsiderable, for there were a thousand Lions killed at Rome in the space of forty years—population and civilisation have gradually driven them within narrower limits, and their destruction has been rapidly worked in modern times since firearms have been used against them instead of the bow and the spear. The African Lion is annually retiring before the persecution of man farther and farther from the Cape. Mr. Bennett[8] says of the Lion: “His true country is Africa, in the vast and untrodden wilds of which, from the immense deserts of the North to the trackless forests of the South, he reigns supreme and uncontrolled.” In the sandy deserts of Arabia, in some of the wild districts of Persia, and in the jungles of Guzerat, in India, he maintains a precarious footing; but from the classic soil of Greece, as well as from the whole of Asia Minor, both of which were once exposed to his ravages, he has been utterly dislodged and extirpated.

The fearful custom, so common afterwards among the Romans, of having many encaged Lions, “fierce with dark keeping,” to use Bacon’s expression, for judicial as well as sporting purposes, was evidently an old custom in the East; for we learn from the book of Daniel that the kings of Babylon kept a “den of Lions” into which offenders were thrown alive. Judging, however, from the Biblical narrative, the Chaldeans had a far less revolting manner of killing criminals than the Romans, for they seem to have used the Lions simply as executioners; to have cast in the victim, and then to have fastened up the entrance of the den, drawing a decent veil on the horrible scene taking place within. They did not, like the Romans, curry favour with the masses by making the death of their victims into a spectacle, at which all classes had their love of excitement gratified by the sight of men and women torn and mangled and devoured by raging beasts, to the accompaniment of small talk and flirtation.

As to the former occurrence of the Lion in places where it is now absent, we may instance its evident commonness in Palestine. One of the earliest Lion stories occurs in the history of the Hebrew Hercules, who, when travelling with his father and mother to Timnath, “came to the vineyards of Timnath: and, behold, a young Lion roared against him. And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand: but he told not his father or his mother what he had done.”[9]

Every one will remember David’s account of his encounter with the tawny savage in the Syrian pasture lands. “And David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father’s sheep, and there came a Lion, and a Bear, and took a Lamb out of the flock: and I went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew both the Lion and the Bear.”[10]

LION OF SENEGAL.

Another Lion-slayer is one of David’s “braves”—Benaiah—“He went down also and slew a Lion in the midst of a pit in time of snow.”[11] Now this slight mention of the forest-king is a perfect picture in a few short words. In that land of milk and honey there was snow at certain seasons, and then that huge, bearded Cat was fain to hide himself in some cleft of the rock. If, however, the term “pit” means one in which the Lion has fallen, being entrapped, the short snatch of history loses none of its interest. The calm courage of this man made him to be “more honourable than the thirty mighty men,” in the list of David’s captains.

After the deportation of the ten tribes to Babylon, the number of Lions and other beasts of prey must have increased to a fearful extent in Palestine, for we find the men sent by the King of Assyria to re-people the deserted cities, complaining to their monarch of the ravages of these beasts which, as they put it, had been sent “because they knew not the manner of the God of the land.”

As to the favourite haunts of the Lion in the various countries where it exists, “that Lions exist in the desert,” says M. Carette, “is a myth popularised by the dreams of artists and poets, and has no foundation but in their imagination. This animal does not quit the mountains where it finds shelter, food, and drink. When the traveller questions the natives concerning these wild beasts, which Europeans suppose to be their companions in the desert, they reply, with imperturbable sangfroid, ‘Have you, then, Lions in your country which can drink air and eat leaves? We fear only the viper, and, in humid spots, the innumerable swarms of mosquitos which abound there.’”[12] But the sacred writer makes him come up from the “swellings of Jordan;” and with Homer he is the Mountain Lion: the “artists and poets” of M. Carette are moderns, who know but little of the subject; not ancients who were familiar with the beast.

LION OF BARBARY.

When an animal has a wide geographical distribution it is almost always found that it exhibits, in different parts of its range, more or less well-marked varieties, distinguished from one another by evident though sometimes unimportant characters. This is the case with the Lion, of which five varieties are usually distinguished, three being found in Africa, and two in Asia. These varieties, or races, are as follows:—

1. The Lion of Barbary.—The fur is of a deep yellowish-brown colour, and the mane is more developed than in any other variety, forming long tresses which cover the neck and shoulders, and are continued along the belly and the inside of the legs. This variety extends over the whole of Africa north of the Sahara.

2. The Lion of Senegal is found in the western part of Africa, south of the Sahara. Its fur is of a lighter colour than that of the Barbary Lion, and the mane is less thick, and hardly at all developed over the breast and insides of the legs.

3. The Lion of the Cape ranges over the whole of South Africa, and is said to be found under two lesser varieties, one yellowish in colour, and the other brown: the latter is considered to be the more formidable. The mane is darker than in either of the foregoing kinds.

The Asiatic varieties are smaller than the kinds found in Africa. The mane is variable, and the form less graceful than in the Cape or Barbary Lion.

4. The Persian or Arabian Lion.—This is a paler variety found in Western Asia.

5. The Lion of Guzerat, or so-called “maneless Lion,” is usually stated to be the best-marked variety of all, as its mane, though by no means absent, as the name of the variety would lead us to suppose, is very much less than in any other kind; the body also is bulkier and the legs shorter. Some writers, however, deny altogether the distinctness of the variety, and consider that the mistake of considering the Guzerat Lion as such, has arisen from the fact of young specimens having been described. The strongest statements we have met with on this head are by Captain Harris, whose words we will quote, as they show how little reliance is to be placed on the distinction drawn by travellers between closely-allied varieties or species. Harris says that the South African Lion does not differ “in any material points from those found in Guzerat, in Western India, measuring between ten and eleven feet in extreme length, but generally possessing a finer mane, a peculiarity which is attributable to the less jungly character of the country he infests, and to the more advanced age which he is supposed to attain. Amongst the Cape colonists it is a fashionable belief that there are two distinct species of the African Lion—the yellow and the black—and that the one is infinitely less ferocious than the other. But I need scarcely inform the well-instructed reader that both the colour and the size depend chiefly upon the animal’s age; the development of the physical powers, and of the mane also, being principally influenced by a like contingency. That which has been designated the ‘maneless Lion of Guzerat’ is nothing more than a young Lion whose mane has not shot forth; and I give this opinion with less hesitation, having slain the ‘king of beasts’ in every stage from whelphood to imbecility.”

There has been no attempt to divide the above-named varieties into distinct species. From Linnæus to Dr. Gray, all zoologists agree in this matter. Hence we see that animals do not vary under domestication only; but wild creatures also have their varieties or races, differing in the various localities in which they are found.

All these varieties together form a very well-marked species of the genus Felis, and are known as Felis leo, in zoological language. Some authors, however, as we have already noticed, prefer to consider the various kinds of Cat as so many distinct genera, and speak of the Lion as a single genus and species (Leo nobilis). The species, or genus—for it matters very little which we call it—is distinguished from other Cats by its uniform tawny colour, the tuft of hair at the end of the tail, and the flowing mane, which clothes the head, neck, and shoulders of the male. The head of the Lion is more square than that of the other species of Cats. The mane is entirely absent in the female, which is, in consequence, a comparatively ordinary-looking animal, as it is only by the grandeur of his hirsute appendage that the male is compensated for his plain colouring. The addition of the mane, however, gives him an immense advantage over all other species, adding to his apparent size, especially to that of the head, increasing almost infinitely the beauty of his form, and altogether making him one of the most magnificent objects in the animal kingdom. A further distinction between the Lion and other Cats is to be found in the strong tuft of hair at the end of the tail, which exists in both sexes. Quite at the extremity of the tail, and hidden by the tuft, is a curious little horny appendage or “thorn” with which it was supposed that the Lion, when lashing his tail, spurred his flanks, and so awoke all his courage and ferocity!

We have just mentioned the uniform tawny colour as characteristic of the Lion. This is so, in fact, in adult specimens, but the new-born young are invariably spotted, and the spots often persist for a considerable time. This is the case with Lions born in captivity, as well as with those in a state of nature, and has often been observed in the Lions born in the Zoological Gardens. In some instances the spots are visible during the animal’s life. There are grounds for believing that all the great Cats are descended from a spotted ancestor.

One more external character: the snout of the Lion is longer and more Dog-like than that of any other Cat; the forehead and nose are almost in the same straight line, instead of making a bold curve, as they do in the Tiger, Leopard, Jaguar, and the smaller Cats. So that the Lion, which is conventionally represented with an almost human roundness of face, has really a more thoroughly quadrupedal “muzzle” than any of his kin.

In the Cape Lion the tail tuft is black, the mane brown or black, according to age, and the handsome appearance of the animal is thus much enhanced. There is also a black spot at each corner of the mouth.

The size varies slightly in the different varieties. Captain Harris gives the measurements of an adult male from the Cape as follows:—Extreme length from snout to tip of tail, usually about ten feet; tail, three feet; height at the shoulder, three feet eight inches. The “maneless” Lion is somewhat smaller, as shown by the following measurements made by Captain Smee:—Length, including the tail, eight feet nine inches and a half; height (at the shoulder, we suppose), three feet six inches; and the impression of his paw measured six inches and a half across. A female, killed at the same time, was eight feet seven inches long, and three feet four inches high. The weight of the male (excluding the entrails) was thirty-five stone.

The real size of the Lion is much less than would be supposed before measurement; and he is very inferior in size to many kinds of the Herbivorous animals, such as Horses, Oxen, and Buffaloes, and even the larger Antelopes, such as the Eland.

As to the internal structure of the Lion, there is really nothing, or almost nothing, to add to what has already been said under the character of the whole family. Like all the great beasts of prey, the Tiger, Leopard, &c., the osseous and muscular systems are immensely developed. The ridges of the bones take on a marvellous size for the attachment of the muscles, and in the skull the size of the great processes to which the muscles of the neck are attached, and the width of the jugal arches, or bony bridges under which pass the great muscles by which the lower jaw is closed, and the powerful bite given, are very remarkable.

It is curious to see what wonderfully different impressions are produced on different writers by the appearance of the Lion in his native haunts. For instance, Captain Harris says, “Those who have seen the monarch of the forest in crippling captivity only, immured in a cage barely double his own length, with his sinews relaxed by confinement, have seen but the shadow of that animal which ‘clears the desert with his rolling eye.’”

On the other hand, Livingstone speaks in the most disrespectful, not to say contemptuous way, of the animal’s vaunted majesty of bearing: “When a Lion is met in the daytime, a circumstance by no means unfrequent to travellers in these parts, if pre-conceived notions do not lead them to expect something very ‘noble’ or ‘majestic,’ they will see merely an animal somewhat larger than the biggest Dog they ever saw, and partaking very strongly of the canine features. The face is not much like the usual drawings of a Lion, the nose being prolonged like a Dog’s; not exactly such as our painters make it, though they might learn better at the Zoological Gardens; their ideas of majesty being usually shown by making their Lions’ faces like old women in nightcaps. When encountered in the daytime, the Lion stands a second or two gazing, then turns slowly round, and walks as slowly away for a dozen paces, looking over his shoulder; then begins to trot, and, when he thinks himself out of sight, bounds off like a Greyhound.”

The concluding sentence of this passage shows that Livingstone considers not only the Lion’s beauty to have been over-rated, but his courage also. The following extract quite bears out this opinion:—

“On riding briskly along early one morning, I observed, as I thought, a solitary Zebra a few hundred yards in advance. I instantly alighted, and, leaving ‘Spring’ (his horse) to take care of himself, I made towards the quarry, gun in hand, under cover of a few small trees. Having proceeded for some distance, I peeped cautiously from behind a bush, when I found, to my astonishment, that the animal which I had taken for a Zebra was nothing less than a noble Lion. He was quietly gazing at me. I must confess I felt a little startled at the unexpected apparition; but, recovering quickly from my surprise, I advanced to meet him. He, however, did not think fit to wait till I was within proper range, but turned tail, and fled towards the Swakess. Hoping to be able to come to close quarters with him, I followed at the top of my speed, and was rapidly gaining ground on the brute, when suddenly, with two or three immense bounds, he cleared an open space, and was the next moment hidden from view among the thick reeds that here lined the banks of the river. Having no Dogs with me, all my efforts to dislodge him from his stronghold proved unavailing. Whilst still lingering about the place, I came upon the carcase of a Gnu, on which a troop of Lions had, apparently, been feasting not many minutes previously. Undoubtedly my somewhat dastardly friend had been one of the party.”

LION AND LIONESS ATTACKING AN ELEPHANT.

After such rude shocks as these to our faith in the African monarch’s courage, it is positively refreshing to come across instances where the Lion has shown himself capable of very great boldness, such, for instance, as the following:—

“We were waked up suddenly by hearing one of the Oxen bellowing and the Dogs barking. It was moderately dark, and I seized Clifton’s double rifle, and rushed out, not knowing where, when I saw the driver perched on the top of a temporary hut, made of grass, about six feet high, roaring lustily for a doppè (cap). I scrambled up just as the poor Ox ceased his cries, and heard the Lions growling and roaring on the top of him, not more than fourteen yards from where we were, but it was too dark to see them. I fired, however, in the direction of the sound, and just above the body of the Ox, which I could distinguish tolerably well, as it was a black one. Diza (the driver) followed my example; and, as the Lions did not take the least notice, I fired my second barrel, and was just proceeding to load my own gun, which Jack had brought me, when I was aware, for a single instant only, that the Lion was coming; and the same moment I was knocked half-a-dozen somersaults backwards off the hut, the brute striking me in the chest with his head. I gathered myself up in a second, and made a dash at a fence just behind me, and scrambled through it, gun in hand, but the muzzle was choked with dirt. I then made for the wagon, and got on the box, where I found all the Kaffirs, who could not get inside, sticking like Monkeys, and Diza perched on the top. How he got there seemed to me a miracle, as he was alongside me when the brute charged. A minute or two afterwards one of them marched off a Goat, one of five that were tethered by the foot to the hut that we had so speedily evacuated.

“Diza, thinking he had a chance, fired from the top of the wagon, and the recoil knocked him backwards on to the tent, which broke his fall. It was a most ludicrous sight altogether. After that we were utterly defeated, and the brutes were allowed to eat their meal unmolested, which they continued to do for some time, growling fiercely all the while. The Kaffirs said there were five in all. I fired once again, but without effect; and we all sat shivering with cold without any clothes on till near daybreak, when our enemies beat a retreat, and I was not sorry to turn in again between the blankets. I was just beginning to get warm again when I was aroused by a double shot, and rushed out on hearing that the driver and after-rider had shot the Lion. We went to the spot, and found a fine Lioness dead, with a bullet through the ribs from the after-rider; a good shot, as she was at least 150 yards off. Another had entered the neck just behind the head, and travelled all along the spine nearly to the root of the tail. I claimed the shot, and forthwith proceeded to skin her. I cut out the ball; it proved to be my shot out of Clifton’s rifle. This accounted for her ferocious onslaught. The after-rider was rather chopfallen at having to give her up to the rightful owner.

“Diza got a claw in his thigh, and the gun which he had in his hand was frightfully scratched on the stock: rather sharp practice. A strong-nerved old Kaffir woman lay in the hut the whole time, without a door or anything whatever between her and the Lions, and kept as still as a Mouse all the while.”

Again:—“The enemy disdainfully surveyed us for several minutes, daring us to approach with an air of conscious power and pride, which well beseemed his grizzled form. As the rifle balls struck the ground nearer and nearer at each discharge, his wrath, as indicated by his glistening eyes, increased roar, and impatient switching of the tail, was clearly getting the mastery over his prudence. Presently a shot broke his leg. Down he came upon the other three with reckless impetuosity, his tail straight out and whirling on its axis, his mane bristling on end, and his eyeballs flashing rage and vengeance. Unable, however, to overtake our Horses, he shortly retreated under a heavy fire, limping and discomfited to his stronghold. Again we bombarded him, and again exasperated he rushed into the plain with headlong fury, the blood now streaming from his open jaws, and dyeing his mane with crimson. It was a gallant charge, but it was to be his last. A well-directed shot arresting him in full career he pitched with violence upon his skull, and throwing a complete somersault, subsided amid a cloud of dust.”

The Lion has some excuse for occasionally developing a strong running away propensity. His pace when going at full speed is wonderfully rapid, considering the length of his legs. As the following extract shows, he is able to outrun a firstrate Horse, so that the animals on which he usually feeds would, if he chose to pursue them, have simply no chance whatever against him. As we shall see, however, the Lion seldom pursues his prey, preferring to lie in ambush and to spring upon a passing herd. This consideration makes the following experience rather remarkable. The Lion probably pursued Mr. Baldwin not to satisfy appetite, but for revenge.

“Now for an adventure with a Lion, which I have reserved for the last. On Friday the old Masara captain paid me a visit. He had seen a Lion in the path, and left a lot of Masaras to watch him. I had been working hard all day in the hot sun with an adze, making a dissel-boom for the wagon, and was tired, lame, and shaky in the arms, and did not feel at all up to the mark for rifle-shooting; but I ordered ‘Ferns’ to be saddled, who was also not at all fresh, having had a tremendous burst in the morning across a flat after a lean Eland Cow. Just after, I caught sight of about twenty-five Masaras sitting down, all armed to the teeth with shields and assegais. My attention was attracted to a Kaffir skull, which struck me as a bad omen, and the thought entered my head that it might be my fate to lay mine to bleach there. I did not, however, suffer this thought to unnerve me, but proceeded, and found that the Lion had decamped. The Masaras followed his spoor about a couple of miles, when he broke cover. I did not see him at first, but gave chase in the direction in which the Masaras pointed, saw him, and followed for about 1,000 yards, as he had a long start, when he stood in a nasty thorn thicket. I dismounted at about sixty or seventy yards, and shot at him. I could only see his outline, and that very indistinctly, and he dropped so instantaneously that I thought I had shot him dead. I remounted and reloaded, and took a short circle, and stood up in my stirrup to catch a sight of him. His eyes glared so savagely, and he lay crouched in so natural a position, with his ears alone erect, the points black as night, that I saw in a moment I had missed him. I was then about eighty yards from him, and was weighing the chances of getting a shot at him from behind an immense ant-heap, about fifty yards nearer. I had just put the Horse in motion with that intention when on he came with a tremendous roar, and ‘Ferns’ whipped round like a top, and away at full speed. My Horse is a fast one, and has run down the Gemsbok, one of the fleetest Antelopes, but the way the Lion ran him in was terrific. In an instant I was at my best pace, leaning forward, rowels deep into my Horse’s flanks, looking back over my left shoulder over a hard, flat, excellent galloping ground. On came the Lion, two strides to my one. I never saw anything like it, and never want to do so again. To turn in the saddle and shoot darted across my mind when he was within three strides of me, but on second thoughts I gave a violent jerk on the near rein, and a savage dig at the same time with the off-heel, armed with a desperate rowel, just in the nick of time, as the old manikin bounded by me, grazing my right shoulder with his, and all but unhorsing me, but I managed to right myself by clinging to the near stirrup-leather. He immediately slackened his speed. As soon as I could pull up, which was not all at once, as ‘Ferns’ had his mettle up, I jumped off, and made a very pretty and praiseworthy shot, considering the fierce ordeal I had just passed (though I say it who ought not), breaking his hind leg at 150 yards off, just at the edge of the thicket. Fearful of losing him, as the Masaras were still flying for bare life over the veldt, with their shields over their heads, and I knew nothing would prevail on them to take the spoor again, I was in the saddle, and chasing him like mad in an instant. His broken leg gave me great confidence, though he went hard on three legs; and I jumped off forty yards behind him, and gave him the second barrel—a good shot—just above the root of the tail, breaking his spine, when he lay under a bush roaring furiously, and I gave him two in the chest before he cried ‘Enough!’ He was an old manikin, fat and furious, having only four huge yellow blunt fangs left.”

Not only has the Lion the advantage of great courage—at least, except when coming in contact with those he feels to be his masters—and of great swiftness, but his strength is prodigious. He will fell an Ox or an Antelope with a single blow of his paw, break its neck with one crunch of his cruel teeth, and bound off with it to his lair as easily as if he were only carrying a Rabbit. With a Calf in his mouth he has been known to leap a wall nine feet high. Not an animal of the forest, save the Rhinoceros, can hope to escape from such terrible perfections as these. Any quarry the Lion may choose—Ox, Antelope, or Zebra—is bound to succumb.

There is another characteristic about the beast which is a valuable accessory weapon, comparable to the “British cheer,” with which our soldiers are always supposed to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies. We mean, of course, the terrible roar—that deafening thunder voice, at sound of which the Leopard and Hyæna hold their breath in awe, and the doomed flocks tremble and flee. With man even the noise, when heard for the first time, produces an indescribable feeling, and a firm conviction that all his courage will be needed to meet such a fearful opponent. Sometimes, however, the Lion seems to exercise his voice for fun, or for practice, rather than for striking terror into his hearers.

The terror in which the Lion is held by the meaner members of his own family is well shown by the following passage from Homer. Menelaus and Ajax hear Ulysses calling for help:—

“—— at the voice arrived, they found

Ulysses, Jove-beloved, compass’d about

By Trojans, as the Lynxes in the hills,

Athirst for blood, compass an antler’d Stag

Pierced by an archer; while the blood is warm

And his limbs pliable, from him he ’scapes;

But when the feather’d barb hath quell’d his force,

In some dark hollow of the mountain’s side,

The hungry troop devour him; chance, the while,

Conducts a Lion thither, before whom

All vanish, and the Lion feeds alone;

So swarm’d the Trojan powers numerous and bold,

Around Ulysses, who with wary skill

Heroic combated his evil day.

But Ajax came, covered with his broad shield

That seemed a tower, and at Ulysses’ side

Stood fast; then fled the Trojans wide-dispersed.”

Shakspere has the same idea, when he says—

“Lions make Leopards tame.”

The magnanimity of the Lion is a very well-worn theme. Every one knows all about Androcles and the Lion; “the tale is somewhat musty” by this time. All the older poets have something about it—the writers of the golden age—before natural selection was thought of, and when animals of many kinds were credited with a vast amount of idyllic amiability, of which, alas! nobody believes them capable now.

In the exquisite woodland scenery of “As You Like It,” a hungry Lioness that has just suckled her whelps, is accredited with a nobility to which she, assuredly, had no title. “A green and gilded Snake” has been frightened from the sleeping Oliver by Orlando—

“—— it unlinked itself,

And with indented glides did slip away

Into a bush: under which bush’s shade

A Lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with Cat-like watch,

When that the sleeping man should stir, for ’tis

The royal disposition of that beast

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.”

We are not anxious to know when and how Shakspere gained his knowledge of wild beasts; we possess his descriptions, and that suffices for us. He may make Athenians speak like his fellow Englishmen; place Bohemia by the sea-side, and have the forest of Arden peopled with Lions. All that is of the least importance; for, may we not say of him, what he makes Helena say to Hermia?—

“—— your tongue’s sweet air,

[Is] More tuneable than Lark to shepherd’s ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.”

The Lion is a solitary animal, hunting alone, except from the commencement of the breeding season, when his wife goes with him, up to the time when the babies are beginning to know how to take care of themselves. Until they have arrived at months of discretion, “the Lion tears in pieces enough for his whelps and strangles for his Lionesses, and fills his holes with prey and his dens with ravine.”

The Lion’s den is made by scraping away the surface of the earth in some secluded spot, where the beast remains as long as game is plentiful, and there is no one to disturb him. When he has used up one hunting-ground, he departs for “fresh woods and pastures new.”

He hunts entirely by night, at which time it is not safe for any one, in a Lion neighbourhood, to stir out without firearms, for the Lion, with the laziness which distinguishes him, will always prefer man-meat caught at once, to Antelope or Zebra-meat, for which he will have the trouble of looking. In the daytime he spends most of the time in sleeping off his bloody carouse, and, until nightfall, is always very unwilling to be disturbed, and unless molested hardly at all dangerous, except in the breeding season. This seems curious, as, from the ferocity of the animal when he is attacked, or when he is catering for himself by night, it savours of the marvellous to talk of such a savage being harmless under any circumstances. But there can be no doubt about the fact; he seems to object to expose his actions not only to the light of day, but also to that of the moon. For this, we have the testimony of a man whose loss Englishmen have not yet ceased to deplore; a man who, by universal consent, is facile princeps in the ranks of African explorers:—

“By day there is not, as a rule, the smallest danger of Lions which are not molested attacking man, nor even on a clear moonlight night, except they possess a breeding στοργή (natural affection). This makes them brave almost any danger. And, if a man happens to cross to the windward of them, both Lion and Lioness will rush at him, in the manner of a bitch with whelps. This does not often happen, as I only became aware of two or three instances of it. In one case a man, passing when the wind blew from him to the animals, was bitten before he could climb a tree. And, occasionally, a man on horseback has been caught by the leg under the same circumstances. So general, however, is the sense of security, on moonlight nights, that we seldom tied up our Oxen, but let them lie loose by the wagons. While, on a dark, rainy night, if a Lion is in the neighbourhood, he is almost sure to venture to kill an Ox.”[13]

The following passage shows how unusual it is for a Lion to do any damage by day; so uncommon that the natives consider a supernatural cause necessary to account for so remarkable an occurrence:—

“The Bakàtla of the village Mabatsa were much troubled by Lions, which leaped into the cattle-pens by night, and destroyed their Cows. They even attacked the herds in open day. This was so unusual an occurrence that the people believed that they were bewitched: ‘given,’ as they said, ‘into the power of the Lions by a neighbouring tribe.’ They went once to attack the animals, but, being rather a cowardly people compared to Bechuanas in general, on such occasions, they returned without killing any.”

The darker and stormier the night is the better the Lions like it, and the more persistent will be their attacks. “The new moon brought, if possible, a more abundant supply of rain than usual; nor did the Lions fail to take advantage of the nocturnal tempest, having twice endeavoured to effect an entrance into the cattle-fold. It continued, until nine o’clock the next morning, to pour with such violence, that we were unable to open the canvas curtains of the wagon. Peeping out, however, to ascertain if there was any prospect of its clearing up, we perceived three Lions squatted within a hundred yards, in open plain, attentively watching the Oxen. Our rifles were hastily seized, but the dampness of the atmosphere prevented their exploding. One after another, too, the Hottentots sprang out of the pack-wagons and snapped their guns at the unwelcome intruders, as they trotted sulkily away, and took up their position on a stony eminence at no great distance. Fresh caps and priming were applied, and a broadside was followed by the instantaneous demise of the largest, whose cranium was perforated by two bullets at the same instant. Swinging their tails over their backs, the survivors took warning by the fate of their companion, and dashed into the thicket with a roar.”

When a Lion is fortunate enough to live in the neighbourhood of villages, he naturally prefers the least troublesome course of selecting his supper from the flocks and herds of the inhabitants. It is said that in Algeria, some thirty years ago, each Lion, in the course of his life, cost the Arabs upwards of £8,400, as he destroys every year Cattle, Horses, Camels, &c., to the value of £240, and the average duration of a Lion’s life may be taken at thirty-five years. Thus, Jules Gérard, the celebrated Lion-killer, remarks, that in one district the Arab who paid five francs a-year to the State, paid fifty to the Lion!

If there are no farms or villages handy, the Lion has to content himself with the more troublesome course of catching wild prey. To this end he lies in ambush, in some convenient spot, and waits patiently or impatiently until a herd of Antelopes or Zebras passes by, when he leaps upon one of the number, roaring terribly. He usually strikes the animal down at once, by the immense weight of his body, the terrible blow of his paw, and the fearful grip of his teeth in the neck of his victim. If he misses his aim, he never pursues the flying herd, but returns dejectedly to his lair and waits for another opportunity. The Lion’s mode of attack is described with all the marvellous accuracy and fire of his transcendent genius by the great Grecian:—

“——— as leaps a famish’d Lion fell

On beeves that graze some marshy meadow’s breadth

A countless herd, tended by one unskill’d

To cope with savage beasts in their defence,

Beside the foremost kine or with the last

He paces heedless, but the Lion, borne

Impetuous on the hindmost, one devours

And scatters all the rest.”

“But as the Lion on the mountains bred,

Glorious in strength, when he hath seized the best

And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs

First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch

Torn wide. Meantime, around him, but remote,

Dogs stand and swains clamouring, yet by fear

Repress’d, annoy him not or dare approach.”

The Lion is said sometimes to develop the taste for “man-eating,” which makes the Tiger so terrible. This, however, is comparatively rare, except in old animals; but, whether he eats men by choice or not his depredations are fearfully extensive, especially when he has had a good deal of experience, knows exactly when to attack a place, and has lost wholly or in part the fear of man, which usually distinguishes him. Here is an account of the termination of the career of one of these heroes, a perfect Dick Turpin among Lions, so great had become his skill in “lifting”:—

“We had not been many days at that place, when a magnificent Lion suddenly appeared one night in the midst of a village. A small Dog that had incautiously approached the beast paid the penalty of its life for its daring. The next day a grand chase was got up, but the Lion, being on his guard, managed to elude his pursuers. The second day, however, he was killed by Messrs. Galton and Bam; and, on cutting him up, the poor Dog was found, still undigested, in his stomach, bitten into five pieces. The natives highly rejoiced at the successful termination of the hunt; for this Lion had proved himself to be one of the most daring and destructive ever known, having, in a short time, killed upwards of fifty Oxen, Cows, and Horses. When he had previously been chased he had always escaped unscathed, and every successive attack made upon him only served to increase his ferocity.”

That the Lion does not always “drink the blood of the slain,” but adopts a mild and cooling diet at times, is shown by a remarkable passage in Dr. Livingstone’s work. He is speaking of the various vegetable blessings in the desert:—“But the most surprising plant of the desert is the ‘Kengwe or Kéme’ (Cucumis caffer), the water melon. In years when more than the usual quantity of rain falls, vast tracts of the country are literally covered with these melons. This was the case annually when the fall of rain was greater than it is now, and the Bakwains sent trading parties every year to the Lake. It happens commonly once every ten or eleven years. For the last three years its occurrence has coincided with an extraordinarily wet season. Then animals of every sort and name, including man, rejoice in the rich supply. The Elephant, true lord of the forest, revels in this fruit, and so do the different species of Rhinoceros, although naturally so diverse in their choice of pasture. The various kinds of Antelopes feed on them with equal avidity; and Lions, Hyænas, Jackals, and Mice, all seem to know and appreciate the common blessing.”

This is a very curious circumstance when we consider how purely carnivorous the Lion, in common with the other Felidæ, is under ordinary circumstances. But Dr. Livingstone’s is not the only evidence to show that the bloodthirsty creature occasionally likes a “relish” of green-meat with its flesh. We are informed by Dr. Huggins, F.R.S., that in the Zoological Gardens at Dublin a Lioness had had several litters, but the young ones invariably languished and died after a short time, until the expedient was hit upon of supplying the Lioness with live Goats. This seems horrible enough, but in fact it was not so. The Goat was put into the cage in the evening, and instead of manifesting the extreme terror one would have expected, it seemed to feel no fear at all, but ate grass placed in the den with perfect content, and, when night came, and it had eaten its fill, lay down by its terrible companion, cuddling up close to her, chewing the cud, and seeming to enjoy the warmth, and to be delighted with its new bedfellow. The Lioness showed no hostility to the confiding beast until towards the morning, when she suddenly smashed its head with one blow of her paw, ripped it open, and at once began feeding with avidity on the paunch, with its contents of softened and half-digested grass, always completely finishing this “herbaceous treat” before setting to work on the flesh. It is also stated (vide infra) that very old Lions take to eating grass, thus giving a literal significance to the favourite “Lion and Lamb” illustration, used by poets of all ages to express the change by which the “natural man” is converted into the “spiritual man,” the savage civilised, and the “Philistine” cultured—“The Lion shall eat straw like the Ox.”

“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,

I can lie down and sleep,

Or think on Him who bore thy name,

Graze after thee and weep.”

The Lion enjoys the honourable distinction of being, unlike most Carnivora, strictly faithful to his spouse, although report says that she is by no means so virtuous, but only cleaves to her mate until a stronger and handsomer one turns up. Let us hope this is a calumny. At the breeding season each Lioness is usually followed by a number of Lions, who try all means in their power to gain her affections, and fight the most terrible battles with one another. In these fights the mane is of great use, for its length and thickness prevent the combatants taking a firm grip of one another’s neck. Thus, the Lion with the finest mane has the best chance of succeeding in life in two ways. The Lioness is more likely to take a fancy to him than to a less favoured suitor, for most of the lower animals, as well as ourselves, appreciate personal adornment very strongly; and he has also the best possible protection in the tournament in which he is obliged to take part, fighting, à outrance, against all comers.

THE KISS OF PEACE.

When the battle is over, and the “queen of love and beauty” has bestowed the prize—herself—on the victor, the happy pair live together until the young are able to take care of themselves. The male often hunts for his mate, and allows her to take as much as she wants of the prey before satisfying his own hunger. He cares for her in the same way all the time she is suckling, and for the litter from the time when they are weaned till they are able to hunt for themselves.

The Lioness goes with young about fifteen or sixteen weeks, and produces from two to six at a litter. The cubs are delightful little creatures, about as big as a moderate-sized Cat, blind at first, with pretty innocent faces, and delightfully playful ways. The mother is devoted to them; thinks, no doubt, like Celia Chettam, in “Middlemarch,” that where there are babies “things are right enough, and that error, in general, is a mere lack of that central posing force.”

When the cubs are about eight to twelve months old they begin hunting for themselves, by attacking smaller animals, such as sheep and Goats, under their parents’ direction. The period between the ages of one and two years is the worst part of the Lion’s existence, as far as the inhabitants of the district are concerned, for they “kill not only to support themselves, but also in order to learn how to kill.”

At the age of three the young Lion’s education is complete; he leaves his father’s house, and begins to think of getting a house and a wife for himself, and then in her company he “roars after his prey and seeks his meat from God” for the rest of his career. He is not full-grown until the age of eight, when he may be considered as quite adult; and for many years to come revels in the consciousness of unconquerable strength and power, and oppresses all inferior creatures to his heart’s content.

But even to king Leo “life is not all beer and skittles;” there is suffering and work to be borne and done. The lower creatures “groan and travail” with us; and we find disease where we should least expect to find it, namely, in the wild creatures that at their will freely roam the desert. “The Carnivora, too, become diseased and mangy. Lions become lean, and perish miserably by reason of the decay of the teeth. When a Lion becomes too old to catch game, he frequently takes to killing Goats in the villages. A woman or child happening to go out at night falls a prey too; and as this is his only source of subsistence now, he continues it. From this circumstance has arisen the idea that the Lion, when he has once tasted human flesh, loves it better than any other. A man-eater is, invariably, an old Lion. And, when he overcomes his fear of man so far as to come to villages for Goats, the people remark, ‘His teeth are worn, he will soon kill men.’ They at once acknowledge the necessity of instant action, and turn out to kill him. When living far away from population, or when, as is the case in some parts, he entertains a wholesome dread of the Bushmen and Bakalahari, as soon as either disease or old age overtakes him, he begins to catch Mice and other small Rodents, and even to eat grass. The natives, observing undigested vegetable matter in his droppings, follow up his trail in the certainty of finding him, scarcely able to move, under some tree, and despatch him without difficulty. The grass may have been eaten as medicine, as is observed in Dogs.”

Before leaving the subject of the life and death of our great Carnivore, it will be as well to add a few words as to its breeding in captivity. It is stated by a naturalist who probably knows more about the matter than any other man,[14] that “the Lion appears to breed more freely than any other species of Felis, and the number of young at a birth is greater, not infrequently four, and sometimes five, being produced in a litter. It is remarkable that these animals breed more freely in travelling collections (wild-beast shows) than in zoological gardens. Probably the constant excitement and irritation produced by moving from place to place, or change of air, may have considerable influence in the matter.

“A very extraordinary malformation, or defect, has frequently occurred among Lions produced during the last thirty years, in the Regent’s Park. This imperfection consists in the roof of the mouth being open. The palatal bones do not meet; the animal, is, therefore, unable to suck, and consequently always dies. This abnormal condition has not been confined to the young of any one pair of Lions, but many Lions that have died in the Zoological Gardens, and not in any way related to each other, have, from time to time, produced these malformed young, the cause of which appears to me quite unaccountable.”

Lion-hunting has not yet become, like Tiger-hunting, a regularly organised sport, entered upon at a particular season by large parties of Europeans, who think far more of the fun of the thing than of ridding the world of destroying beasts. The sport of Lion-hunting, on the other hand, is only undertaken by an individual traveller, now and then, who has to take nearly the whole of the danger on his own shoulders, and is quite without the extraneous aids afforded by regiments of Elephant-mounted fellow-hunters, and armies of beaters. The rest of the Lion-killing is done, not for sport, but for use, to get rid of a beast which has decimated flocks, and put friends and neighbours to a cruel death. In all parts where the Lion is found, the natives have one or more ways of trying to get rid of him: sometimes meeting him in open fight, sometimes destroying him in a more underhand manner, by pitfalls, or the like.

Of all methods, that which is attended with the least danger is the ditch, or pitfall, of the Arabs of Algeria. This is a pit four or five yards broad, and ten deep, dug in the middle of the douar, or small encampment of from ten to twenty tents, in which the Arabs live during the winter. The whole douar is surrounded by a hedge, two or three yards in height, and a lesser hedge is placed round the pit to prevent the cattle falling into it; the latter being kept loose within the encampment to attract Lions by their scent and their cries. When the desirable effect is attained, and a Lion has made up his mind to take toll from the flock he hears bleating within the enclosure, he leaps the hedge with one of his tremendous bounds, and, the ditch being a less distance from the hedge than the horizontal range of his leap, falls headlong into the trap prepared for him, from which, owing to its depth, and the fact that it is made narrower above than below, his most frantic efforts can never succeed in extricating him.

As soon as the Arabs hear his roars, and know that they have their enemy a prisoner, they prepare a great feast, summon all the inhabitants of the neighbouring douars, and, proceeding to the pit’s mouth, every one hurls stones at the poor animal, calling him at the same time by all the opprobrious names in the Arabic vocabulary, and, finally, fire upon him until he is dead. When this is the case, they haul up the carcase with ropes; and, having got their prey on level ground, “the mothers take each a small piece of the animal’s heart and give it to their male children to eat, in order to render them strong and courageous. They take away as much as possible of the mane in order to make amulets of it, which are supposed to have the same effect. Then, when the skin has been removed and the flesh divided, each family goes back to its respective douar, where, in the evening, beneath the tents, the event of the day will, for a long time, be the favourite story with every one.”

Besides the pitfall, the Arabs construct ambushes, which are of two kinds. “In the first a hole is dug, about a yard deep, and three or four wide. After placing trunks of trees over it, and covering them with heavy stones, the whole is strewed over with the earth dug out of the ground, except in a few places on one side, where holes are left for the men to shoot through, and an opening on the other, which forms the door of the cavern, and which is closed from the inside by means of a piece of rock.” A pit of this sort is made in some place frequented by Lions. The carcase of an animal is put on the ground opposite the loopholes, and the Arabs get inside and wait until the Lion begins to try conclusions with the bait, when he is promptly peppered by his hidden enemies.

In the second kind of ambush, the hunters conceal themselves in a tree instead of in a pit. Otherwise the mode of procedure is the same.

All these methods of Lion-slaying are safe and sure, but scarcely heroic. Often, however, the Arabs organise regular hunting parties, and compass the death of their foe in a far more legitimate and sportsman-like manner. A party of about fifty usually take part in the hunt; they proceed, after a good deal of talking over the plan of operations, to the Lion’s lair, and by the footmarks it is determined whether the animal in question is young or old, male or female. Five or six experienced Arabs act as watchmen to observe the movements of the game, and signal to their comrades. The modus operandi varies with the age and sex of the Lion. Jules Gérard describes the method when a full-grown male, of course the worst of all to have to do with, is diagnosed.

“When the hunters have succeeded in getting within gunshot of the supposed lair, they ‘turn’ it, so as to command it from the high ground, and stop directly they command the position, observing throughout their operations the greatest silence. As the Lion’s sense of hearing is very delicate, it sometimes happens that he hears the steps of the hunters, or the rolling of some stone which has been displaced from the side of the mountain. In this case he rises and walks in the direction of the sound. If one of the ‘men of the watch’ perceive him, he takes the skirt of his burnous in his right hand, and hoists it before him, which means ‘I see him.’ One of the huntsmen from the group then stands forward, and puts himself in communication with him, shaking his burnous from right to left, which signifies ‘Where is he?’ and ‘What is he doing?’ If the Lion is still, the ‘man of the watch’ raises the skirts of his burnous to his head, then lets them fall, and walks a few steps forwards, repeating the same signal, which may be translated by ‘He is motionless, in front of you, and at some distance.’ If the Lion walks to the right or left, the man walks in the same direction, shaking his burnous either from left to right, or from right to left. Finally, if the animal proceeds in the direction of the hunters, the ‘man of the watch’ places himself exactly opposite them, shakes his burnous violently, and cries with all his might, ‘Aou likoum!’ (‘Take care!’) At this signal the hunters draw themselves up in a line, if possible against a rock, so that their position may not be turned. Woe to him who has not heard the cry of ‘Aou likoum!’ in sufficient time, and has stopped at some distance from his comrades.”

When a Lion actually comes in sight, all concealment is, of course, at an end. The Arabs get as near as possible, to fire, and as soon as their guns are discharged rush upon the wounded beast with their pistols and swords. As might naturally be expected the casualties in this mode of warfare are fearful; hardly a hunt takes place unmarked by the death of one or more of the hunters.

One of the most daring single combats of which we ever remember to have read was one between a great black-maned Lion and Mr. C. J. Andersson, who had all the real part of the fight entirely to himself. The account is also interesting as showing—like, perhaps, most descriptions of the same kind—how very tenacious of life the Lion is, for the animal in question, although it had received the contents of both Mr. Andersson’s barrels, one of which completely smashed its shoulder, had a sufficient number of its nine lives left to enable it to get clear off, and cheat its gallant destroyer of his lawful spoil—the skin.

“One day, when eating my humble dinner, I was interrupted by the arrival of several natives, who, in breathless haste, related that an Ongeama, or Lion, had just killed one of their Goats close to the mission station (Richterfeldt), and begged of me to lend them a hand in destroying the beast. They had so often cried ‘Wolf!’ that I did not give much heed to their statements; but, as they persisted in their story, I at last determined to ascertain its truth. Having strapped to my waist a shooting-belt containing the several requisites of a hunter—such as bullets, caps, knife, &c.—I shouldered my trusty double-barrelled gun (after loading it with steel-pointed balls), and followed the men.

“In a short time we reached the spot where the Lion was believed to have taken refuge. This was in a dense tamarisk brake of some considerable extent, situated partially on and below the sloping banks of the Swakop, near to its junction with the Omutenna, one of its tributaries.

“On the rising ground above the brake in question were drawn up in battle array a number of Damaras and Namaquas, some armed with assegais, and a few with guns. Others of the party were in the brake itself, endeavouring to oust the Lion.