black shadows which did not seem to be accompanied by any bodies; then whack—he walked right into something big which did not move. At this point Ridgwell was seriously thinking about commencing to cry.

"Stop that," said a gruff voice.

"What?" faltered Ridgwell.

"Going to cry."

"I am not sure," said Ridgwell, "that I was."

"I am," said the gruff voice. "I saw the corners of your mouth go down. Now can you climb up? No, of course you can't, you are too small. Here, catch hold of my paw! There you are!" grunted the Lion, when Ridgwell was seated safely. "You just fit nicely; all the children fit in here. Knock those rolled-up policemen's capes off, they annoy me every day when they put them there. They tickle me, and I can't scratch about with my paws either."

Ridgwell was now lost in amazement, and regarded the Lion in open-mouthed astonishment.

The Lion purred contentedly. It was a nice homely sounding, domestic purr, and many times deeper and more impressive than that of a cat. "What's your name?" demanded the Lion, whilst Ridgwell was still gasping.

"Ridgwell."

"Very appropriate too," said the Lion. "Here you are sitting in safety on the Ridge with me, and you are Well, aren't you?"

"Yes, thank you."

"There you are then," said the Lion. "Ridge-Well, what more do you want? Now I suppose you wish to know who I am? Well, I don't mind telling you. I am the Pleasant-Faced Lion. I am the only real Lion of the four, consequently I have a more intelligent expression than the others. The other three are only just common lions, and are always asleep. Now I come to life once in every generation and have a talk to the children, or to any one grown up who is imaginative enough to understand me. I like children, they are a hobby of mine. I am not in my usual spirits to-day," continued the Lion, "I have caught cold."

"Have you?" said Ridgwell. "I am very sorry."

"Yes, they washed me for Trafalgar Day in some beastly solution which was most unsuitable to me. I cannot shake off the cold. Hang on!" shouted the Lion suddenly, "I am going to sneeze, and I may shake you off the pedestal." Whereupon the Lion grabbed Ridgwell gently with his paw to steady him, and after sneezing heavily, proceeded. "After washing me for Trafalgar Day, which was most unnecessary, they hung a ridiculous wreath round my neck with a large N in leaves upon it. To add to the injury, an absurd person stood staring at me and explained to her children that the N stood for Napoleon. Bah!!!" growled the Lion. "Bah!!! Ignorance!"

"What did it stand for?" asked Ridgwell.

"Nile," grunted the Lion. "Short for Battle of the Nile."

"But I am so astonished. I did not know that you could talk, Mister
Lion."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake don't call me Mister Lion, call me Lal."

"Why Lal?" inquired Ridgwell.

"Short for Lionel," whispered the Lion. "Lionel is my proper name."

"Oh, I see, but, Mister——"

"There you go again," said the Lion. "Call me Lal and be friendly."

"Indeed I am very friendly, Mister—I mean Lal; but there are so many things I don't understand."

"Common complaint of little boys," grumbled the Lion, "and you are going to see a lot more things in a minute that you will find most amazing. For instance, would you like to see a tournament?"

"Rather, Lal, I've always longed to see a tournament, but they never have such things now, do they? Aren't they all ended in England?"

"On the contrary," declared the Lion, "one is about to begin."

"Where?"

"Here in front of your eyes, and if you like you shall stay and see it. St. George outside Westminster has challenged the Griffin at Temple Bar to fight. All the really important Statue folk will be present. King Richard I from outside the Houses of Parliament will ride up to see fair play. Charles I. will come over from Whitehall across the road; Oliver Cromwell will most likely put in an appearance, if he can only make up his mind to leave his mound outside the Commons in those big boots of his."

"But, Lal," questioned Ridgwell, "surely Charles I. and Cromwell won't come to the Tournament together? Will they speak and be friendly?"

"No, no," confessed the Lion, "we still have great trouble with those two, they never speak. You see Cromwell is jealous of Charles, because Charles is mounted upon a nice horse, and rides past Cromwell and never notices him at all. Now Cromwell has to go about on foot, squeaking and squelching in those big boots, so that he never gets up to Charles, which annoys Cromwell very much."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, Cromwell wants to shout out 'Ha!!!' at Charles, and he never gets a chance. Cromwell gets left out very much in the cold," continued the Lion, "Richard I. never notices him either."

"Why is that?" asked Ridgwell.

"It's like this," said the Lion, "and it's only reasonable when you come to think of it. Richard I. spent nearly the whole of his time fighting to preserve a shrine, whilst Cromwell spent most of his time destroying them. Of course that annoys Richard, so Richard simply looks through Cromwell whenever they meet. Nothing would induce him to notice Cromwell."

"I should think that must annoy Cromwell," debated Ridgwell.

"It does," agreed the Lion, "but Cromwell always shouts out Ho! at Richard; he thinks Ho! is more appropriate to Richard's period. Richard, however, with perfect self-possession which is beyond all praise, never appears to hear him at all. Cromwell will always keep turning his head round to stare most rudely at Richard and Charles as they gallop past, hoping that Richard will hear him shout Ho! and Charles will hear him shout Ha!, and that irritating habit of his, together with Charles's treatment of the matter, was probably the origin of the terms, 'Roundhead' and 'Cavalier.'"

"Really!" said Ridgwell.

The Lion coughed slightly. "Not really," said the Lion, "only perhaps."

"But, Lal, if the statues of London move about and are coming here for a tournament as you say, won't people miss them?"

"Good gracious goodness, no," exclaimed the Lion. "Why! the people of London wouldn't miss them in a year, let alone a few hours! Then perhaps some person might notice something wasn't in its usual place and would write to the papers asking what it meant, and the London County Council would hold an inquiry."

"But, Lal, will General Gordon, George III. and Nelson take part in the
Tournament?"

"Bless me, child, how you mix up your history," observed the Lion, "of course not. They are only moderns, the others are ancients. Two Kings waiting to see fair play between a Griffin and a Saint who are about to have a fight, belong to quite another time. George III. and General Gordon are moved out of the way before the combat starts; and as for Nelson, he was frozen long ago up there; it is a ridiculous attitude for so great a man, and a worse altitude, but there he is, and you cannot alter it; however he is frozen and mercifully doesn't feel anything or see anything that is going on."

"But if they are going to fight and charge one another, won't the fountains be in the way?" inquired Ridgwell anxiously, as he looked up into the Lion's good-humoured face.

"If you look again hard," grinned the Lion, "you will find that the fountains and