that he was "unluckily one of those who have an antipathy to a cat," so that he was uneasy when in a room with one. It certainly was rather unlucky, for he was writing the life of Dr. Johnson, and wishing to be as much in his company as possible was frequently at his house. Now the Doctor had a favorite tomcat whom he called "Hodge," and Boswell relates how he "suffered from the presence of this same Hodge."

He says, "I recollect him one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend, smiling and half whistling, rubbed down his back and pulled him by the tail, and when I observed that he was a fine cat, saying, 'Why, yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this,' and then, as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, he added! 'But he's a very fine cat; a very fine cat, indeed.'"

Hodge was well taken care of, and did not have to catch rats for a living, for the Doctor was in the habit of treating him to oysters.

APRIL FOOL.

Most small boys are fond of April-fooling people. How often on the first day of April have we seen the small boy wrapping up a piece of wood or brick in the shape of a parcel bought at the store, carelessly place it on the sidewalk as if dropped by a passer-by, and then hide himself near by and wait for some one to be "fooled" by it.

Dick and Frank Slemmons, one April-fool's day, concluded to get up an April-fool on a grander scale than usual. They procured an old pair of pants, a shirt, pair of boots, gloves, a dunce's cap, and a "false-face" or mask. They took these articles to their father's barn, and by stuffing them with straw and putting a few extra touches of paint on the mask, they made a hideous looking Guy. To the back of this figure, near the shoulders, the boys fastened a string, and when it began to grow dark they carried it out into the yard and placed it in a sitting posture on the front fence, to fool people who were passing by. Holding to the string they hid themselves behind the fence intending when any one passed to let the figure fall forward as if it were about to drop from the fence. But they failed to fool anybody, for the first one to come along was Mike, their father's hostler, who at once discovered the boys, and, saying "Ah! see the little laddie-bucks over the fince!" he grabbed the guy and took it along with him.

So the boys themselves were the only ones April fooled.

IN A STORM ON THE SEA.

IN A STORM ON THE SEA.

Little David Loomis, only eight years old, was permitted by his father, Captain Loomis, to accompany him on a whaling expedition. While out at sea the body of a dead whale was discovered at some distance from the boat, floating in the water. Several of the crew manned one of the smaller boats and rowed away over the glassy sea to secure the carcase. David was allowed to go with them. Before the boat reached the floating whale, however, a fearful squall suddenly arose; the wind screamed and whistled round their little boat; the waves, lashed to sudden fury, hissed and foamed, breaking over them like a deluge, whilst a terrible peel of thunder broke right overhead. David was scared almost out of his senses. He had never before seen such a storm. But he sat still, as one of the crew had told him to do, looking out, oh! how eagerly, for some signs of his father's vessel. Nothing was to be seen, however, but a wild waste of heaving, tumbling billows, over which the boat seemed actually to fly. Suddenly the clouds lifted, the wind ceased, and all was as calm as before the storm. Nothing was to be seen of the dead whale, and the crew was content to let it float where it would, while they rowed in search of their vessel. Ere long they were safe and sound on board with Captain Loomis. David could not help repeating from a poem he had recited at school, the words: "Isn't God upon the ocean, just the same as on the land?"

THE JAGUAR.

THE JAGUAR WAITING FOR HIS PREY.

The jaguar, or American tiger, as he is sometimes called, is a native of South America. He is beautifully spotted with rings containing smaller spots on a deeper ground tint. He is a ferocious and destructive beast, inhabits the forests, and seeks his prey by watching, or by openly seizing cattle or horses in the enclosures. His depredations among the herds of horses which graze on the prairies of Paraguay are vast and terrible. Swift as lightning he darts upon his prey, overthrows it by weight, or breaks its neck by a blow of his paw. His strength is so great, he can easily drag off a full-sized horse. He is an expert climber, and the prints of his claws have been seen on the bark at the top of trees fifty feet in height and without branches. He sometimes feeds on monkeys, but they are generally too active for him; having the power to swing themselves from branch to branch with wonderful swiftness, they are soon beyond his reach. After horses, oxen and sheep are his favorite prey, and his devastations among them are often very extensive. On account of this, efforts are constantly made to destroy him. He is hunted with dogs, which run him to bay, or force him to seek safety in a tree, where he is kept till the approach of the hunters, who shoot him, or disable him with their long spears.

MILITARY DOGS.

DOG CHILDREN OF THE REGIMENT.

Big dogs, little dogs; black dogs, white dogs—all sizes and sorts of dogs are now carefully trained for use in the military service of France and Germany as messengers, scouts, and sentinels.

These "dog-children of the regiment" are not chosen from any special breed of dogs, because that would at once cause then to be recognized, and so become a target for the foe whenever seen.

These military dogs are chosen on account of the promise they give of "individual merit," and their education is begun as early as possible. All are trained to silence—a most difficult lesson, and only learnt by long and patient teaching. In fact, it is at all times difficult to insure obedience when music strickes up, for the training poodles, fox-terriers, and collies are sorely tempted to give vocal accompaniment. Dogs selected for this service are thoroughly children of the regiment. They are never allowed to associate with civilians, or to let any man wearing an unknown uniform approach them. They must not attack strangers, but are to keep at a respectful distance from all such. Thus their fidelity as letter-carriers is secured.

When on sentry duty they are taught to warn their human companions of the approach of any strangers within