A gentleman who had a pet turtle which he kept in a tank tells some interesting things about its appetite. During the early spring he fed him on bits of meat, either raw or cooked. Having no teeth, he swallowed these whole, gulping them down with large quantities of water. Outside of his tank he would carry food in his mouth for hours at a time, but apparently was unable to swallow it with his head out of water. He always aimed well, and snapped up bits of meat as carefully and as quickly as if they had been bits of life that might escape him. When a morsel was too large to be swallowed whole, he held it down firmly with his fore feet and pulled bits off with his mouth. His owner once gave him a fish so large that it took him three hours to eat it, and in all that time he never removed his foot. Rival turtles and swift currents had probably taught him this bit of discretion in the days of his freedom. One time he put twenty small fish averaging three inches in length into his tank, thinking this would be a treat for him and would save the trouble of feeding him for some time. A treat he evidently considered it, for within half an hour he had disposed of the entire lot. This excited the admiration of the gentleman's boy friends, and the next day they brought in sixty small fish. At the end of the second day the turtle looked about with an Oliver Twist-like air, which plainly called for more. When there was any perceptible difference in the size of the fish it always ate the largest one first. It ate grasshoppers and dragon-flies, tadpoles, and little frogs--animal food of any kind. It would eat eggs as readily as meat. This voracity of appetite accounts for much of the destruction of young fish life in our lakes and streams, where these turtles are extremely abundant. In the Philippines, it is said, there lives a turtle that climbs trees. The feet are strongly webbed, and each has three sharp claws. [Illustration: FROM COL. L. E. DANIELS. GEOGRAPHIC TURTLE. COPYRIGHT 1899, NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.] NOSES. W. E. WATT. The Rev. Sam Jones says of a trained bird dog that he once saw in the tall grass jumping up to get signals from his master's hand, moving to the right or left, or lying down without a word spoken: "When I saw the faithfulness of that animal in carrying out the wishes of its human master I was ashamed of myself in the presence of the dog." A hunting dog is busy with eye and ear. Every nerve seems strained to catch the slightest indication of game. But those who know the dog best know he is mainly occupied with his nose. That delicate organ dilates and adjusts itself constantly to every breath of air.