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:--