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.”