o has watched the feeding of caged tigers in a menagerie can
easily imagine how terrible a hungry tiger would be, were he running
free in his native jungle. As supper-time approaches, the tigers begin
to roar and growl, and march restlessly up and down the cage. When the
keeper approaches with the great pieces of raw beef, their roaring makes
everything tremble. With ferocity glaring in their eyes, the tigers
spring for the food, and begin to devour it eagerly. They often lie down
to eat, holding the meat in their fore-paws like a cat, rolling it over
and over while they tear it in pieces, growling savagely all the while.

The royal tiger is found only in Asia; for the beast called a tiger in
South America and on the Isthmus of Panama is properly the jaguar, and
its skin is not ornamented by stripes, but by black spots. It is not so
powerful as its royal relative, but very much like it in its habits.
Like the tiger, it is an expert swimmer, and as it is very fond of fish,
it haunts the heavily wooded banks of the great South American rivers,
and is a constant terror to the wood-cutters, who anchor their little
vessels along the shore.

The crocodiles and the jaguars are at constant war with each other. If a
jaguar catches a crocodile asleep on a sand-bank, it has the advantage,
and usually kills its antagonist; but if the crocodile can catch its
enemy in the water, the jaguar rarely escapes death by drowning.

Jaguars are not as plentiful on the Isthmus of Panama as formerly,
before the scream and rumble of the locomotive disturbed the solitudes
of the dense tropical forest. Still, large specimens are occasionally
killed there, and their beautiful skins bring a high price when brought
to market.

BICYCLING.

BY THE CAPTAIN.

One of the prettiest and most interesting sights ever seen in the gay
city of Newport was the parade of bicyclers last Decoration-day, where,
among the one hundred and fifty riders, were to be seen the uniforms of
twenty-five crack clubs.

The illustration of the procession on next page shows it on Bellevue
Avenue while passing the quaint and beautiful Casino Building. First of
all rides the commander, Captain Hodges, of the Boston Bicycle Club, and
directly behind him, riding three abreast, are the six marshals of the
procession, who act as his aides. Then come the men of the New York
Club, in gray and scarlet, riding in column of fours, and followed by
the long line of glittering s