"it may have nothing to do with _me_. Just a
baby on its passage to the United States. But, then, it was going to
Philadelphia, and it was a boy baby; and I must have been a baby at the
same time. I wonder what Jack would say if he knew what I am
thinking of?"

It would be strange, he thought, if he were really to get track of
himself in such a way--the first of the tracks being made by that tiny
shoe in Jack's chest. And then he reflected how improbable it seemed,
when there were so many babies in the world, that he should have been
_that_ baby.

"I almost hope the thing will never come to light," he said to himself.
"Perhaps it is better not to know."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

IN A MENAGERIE.

There is a distinct individuality among tigers, as among ourselves, some
being gentle and tolerably tractable, while others are fierce, morose,
and not to be trusted.

In Mr. G. Sanger's menagerie, at Margate, England, there are two
tigresses which are of exactly opposite characters. Both go by the name
of "Bessy," there being an extraordinary lack of originality in the
nomenclature of animals.

The difference may be partly owing to the accident of birth, one having
been captured while young, and the other born in a menagerie.

One might naturally imagine that the latter would be the better tempered
of the two, she never having known the freedom of savage life. But, in
accordance with the invariable rule, the "forest-bred" animal is the
tamer, those which have been born in captivity being always uncertain in
their ways, and not to be trusted.

Now, "Bessy the First" is forest bred. The head keeper, Walter
Stratford, has the most perfect confidence in her, and can take any
liberties with her.

After I had paid several visits to the menagerie, I thought that she
began to recognize me, and therefore cultivated her acquaintance. Now,
as soon as I enter the house, Bessy tries to attract my attention,
expects to be patted and stroked, her ears to be pulled, and her nose
rubbed, just as a pet cat would do.

One day I had an unexpected experience with her. Nearly the whole of the
end of the room is occupied by a huge cage, in which Stratford delights
in putting all sorts of incongruous animals.

There are several varieties of monkeys, a porcupine, a goat, some
rabbits and guinea-pigs, a few geese and ducks, four cats,
a coati-mondi, two raccoons, a jackal, a little white Pomeranian dog
named Rose, two pigs, and other