very handsomest and noblest collection of wild beasts ever seen together, tame, submissive, and tractable as domestic-bred animals, in most superb coat, fat as moles, and apparently as affectionate and grateful for kindness as would be the most intelligent and faithful of man's companions; the one great and accountable reason for this is that in themselves-their courage, their ferocity, and their savage natures they are vanquished, annihilated, utterly undone and demoralised. Plundered of their weapons, offensive and defensive, their very heartstrings torn asunder, their quick, sensitive natures crushed out-cast off the rack, cowed, bleeding, benumbed and incapable, to obey the will of their torturer. "Ah," I exclaimed, "poor beautiful and pampered creatures, you are not what you seem; you are no longer lions and tigers, rulers of deserts and jungles; unhappy, miserable brutes, I pity you from my heart; nevertheless, in your low estate you are yet more admirable than man!"

On returning to the hotel, when alone with Van Amburgh I made a point of reciting to him my accidental discovery of his secret "ways and means" of obtaining his surprising supremacy. His embarrassment and confusion were at first profound and helpless, but to me, in my disgust, really enjoyable. Recovering himself, however, quickly, he rather violently exclaimed, "May I be !" (a national oath)

"if you were to tell other folks of this, youngster, you would just ruin the consarn. You artists are too inquisitive. I wonder natur' stands to it, always prying into her bosom secrets. She'll revolutionise some day, I guess, and throw you. What could you want with their claws? Why, a tom-cat's would have done you quite as well, I calculate, as my innocents'." A volley of slang followed this repentance of his liberal free admission to his magnificent menagerie. When cooled down, he extracted from me a promise, as "a gentleman and man of honour," that I would never repeat what I had seen to any one, sa long as he was performing. I have kept my word. This is the first time I have ever disclosed the excruciating process, the refined agony, and despicable cowardice by which Van Amburgh made himself a "Lion King!"

The first meeting between Van and his animals after so long an absence as nearly three months was one of the most touching ebullitions of attachment ever witnessed or possible to imagine. The party consisted of Titus; the great performer himself, on crutches; a Colonel Perrignez, of the Algerian Army; and myself. Van carried with him a large bag of sweet biscuits and lumps of sugar-for I must here mention that he had taught them to eat all sorts of nicnacs, and they had become extremely fond of them, and looked for them

from his hand with greedy anxiety. They were always fed upon cooked meat, and never on any account permitted to taste or smell blood. On entering the stable yard, immediately catching sight of their master, the whole place was in an uproar; the animals sprang against the bars, rose up on them, rubbed themselves violently against them, purring and roaring sotto voce, and exhibiting every conceivable demonstration of affection and delight at his return that their natures dictated and were capable of. Nothing but Van's caresses would pacify or calm them. "Pretty dears, I would go in to them," he said, "but I fear they would rough me, and I am yet too weak." However, perceiving a chair handy, he exclaimed, "My pets, be patient and I'll come and talk to you." Taking the chair with one hand, he opened the lion's den with the other, and hobbled as well as he could up the little steps which led to the doorway; but so eager were they to get at him, that had it not been for the assistance of Dan, they most assuredly would have jumped out and got at large. Once inside, Van seated himself most majestically in the middle, crutch in hand; then, calling the lioness to him, he read her a lecture on her misbehaviour and the impropriety of biting him. Prince, in the meantime, sat by his side, with his magnificent head resting on his knees, apparently listening to and inwardly digesting the advice given to his less reflective spouse. Van then patted and played with them, and finally put each through a short rehearsal of some of their well known tricks and attitudes, simply keeping them off him by the authority of his crutch, finishing his visit by a distribution of cakes and sugar, and a renewal of fond and endearing expressions of his regard for them. The whole scene. was of the most interesting and absorbing description, far surpassing any exhibition that I had ever before either read of or could have supposed such ferocious natures admitted of displaying. The same ceremony was gone through with each set of animals, the leopards literally mobbing and hustling him, almost beyond his control; he had, indeed, considerable difficulty in keeping them at all within bounds.

Van Amburgh is now no more, but he died a natural death—not torn to pieces in revenge for unjustifiable brutality and vulgar daring. He was par excellence at the head of his then novel and hazardous calling-a "Lion King."

THE TICHBORNE DOLE.

HAT time Plantagenet the king

Was wading through his troubled reign;
And Strongbow drew the sword, to bring
The exiled Dermot back again;

At Tichborne Manor, day by day,
The Lady Mabel Tichborne lay.

So long her bed had been her lot,

And four white walls her only scene,

It may be she remembered not

That skies were blue and meadows green;

But visions of a world more fair

Had often cheered her spirit there.

'Twas long ere Roger Tichborne spoke, Then seized he up a smoking brand, And, half in earnest, half in joke,

Said, "I will give thee so much land As thou canst walk around to-day, While this pine candle burns away."

"Done with thee," said the noble dame; "Put by thy brand till noontide hour; And though I am but weak and lame, It may be God will give me power To feed the poor this day with bread, For ages after I am dead."

From hall and cot the neighbours went
To see their lady do her part;

She stood before them old and bent,

But youthful fire was in her heart; Said all, "The Lord direct her feet! Was ever one so brave and sweet?"

A minute's pause to think and pray, And raise on high her thankful song; And now the saint is on her way,

From utter weakness made so strong, That she, who scarce could move a hand, Goes round a goodly piece of land.

And one may yet, without the walls

Of Tichborne Park, behold the placeA field, wide-acred, named "The Crawls," Where Lady Mabel, in her grace,

Left for awhile her dying bed,
To earn the poor a piece of bread.

Sir Roger Tichborne lifts his eyes,

So much amazed, he cannot speak; The half-burnt brand before him lies,

The colour mantles in his cheeks; While mutters he, "By'r Lady's name, Had ever king a grander dame ?"