The historically famous 'Lions in the Tower' gradually ceased to be a source of wonderment when Zoological Gardens became familiar; and the collection was dispersed about forty years ago. It had been a custom in the old times to name the Tower lions after the reigning sovereigns of Europe; and indeed the lion has generally been regarded as a royal beast. Lord Mahon, in his _History of England_, quotes a passage from the Earl of Chesterfield, tending to shew that there was a bit of superstition mixed up with this matter. Under date 1758 the Earl wrote: 'It was generally thought His Majesty would have died, and for a very good reason; the oldest lion in the Tower, near about the king's age, died about a fortnight ago.' But the king outwitted the lion, by living two years longer. A printer of ballads, not many years back, tried to make a little money by a smart bit of April Fooling. Knowing that many country people are still ignorant of the fact that the lions have long been removed from the Tower, he printed penny tickets purporting to admit the holder to witness the annual ceremony of washing the lions in the Tower on the First of April; how many ninnies were taken in by the trick, the record does not say. Van Amburgh, the most renowned, perhaps, of all the lion-kings, came to England a year or two before the beginning of the reign of her present Majesty. He was a native of Holland, well-formed and handsome; and his collection of trained lions, tigers, &c. drew immense numbers of spectators. Van Amburgh's cool daring was remarkable; and when Edwin (afterwards Sir Edwin) Landseer exhibited at the Royal Academy his picture of the lion-king in the midst of his trained quadrupedal pupils, the excitement spread to a class of society above that which is usually supposed to be weak on such points. Van Amburgh's career in England continued on and off for some years. One of his exhibitions included a black tiger, a colour rarely met with in that animal; and a sort of drama was got up in which the lion-king personated Moroff, a brute-tamer. Among the bits of gossip which cannot well be traced to an authentic source, is one to the effect that the Duke of Wellington (who is known to have had a liking for the performances of Van Amburgh) once asked him whether he was ever afraid; to which the brute-tamer replied: 'The first time I am afraid, your Grace, or I fancy that my pupils are no longer afraid of me, I will give up.' Van Amburgh was killed more than once by the newspapers, as 'Manchester Jack' had been; but Mr Frost (whose curious volume, _The Old Showman_, is a veritable storehouse of gossip on these subjects) states that the hero retired with a competency, and lived till a recent date.