A

CAVE of mysteries is the ear. An outer passage is guarded by hairs and a bitter, sticky wax to discourage too inquisitive insects. At the end of the passage is The stretched a thin membrane Ear -the drum. Perhaps you have heard it "click" in a tunnel when the outside air pushed it suddenly inward. Soldiers open their mouths when cannons are fired so that the rushing air will not destroy this drum, but will reach it on both sides, as there is a back passage from the mouth to the other side, the part we call the "middle ear." Unfortunately, this same back passage is sometimes used by enemies of sickness who cause a lot of trouble when they travel from the mouth and manufacture their poisons in the ear. Then pain and fever come as danger signals to warn you. If you should stop these signals without understanding them, it would be as foolish as to tear down the red lights on the railroad track. The enemy might then march on to burst through the drum, or enter deeper in the bony caves so dangerously near the brain.

Within the "middle ear" are three of the tiniest bones in the world, that catch the vibrations of sound-waves on the drum and send them on to the inner ear. Here a wonderful coil of fine nerve-ends catches the different lengths of waves that make up sounds, and sends them to the brain to be "tuned in" and understood.

Even in sleep the ears and brain are on guard. A tired mother may sleep through a crashing thunderstorm and yet be instantly aroused by soft movements of her child. The city boy on vacation lies awake, disturbed by squeaking and chirping of insects on the farm, while his country cousin is amazed that any one could sleep amid the roar and hum of human sounds. That is because the brain kindly "tunes out" the sounds it knows and understands, but calls you at the unexpected. Did you ever travel on a steamer and sleep soundly while the engines throb, but be instantly aroused by the silence of an unexpected stop? Again the unfamiliar message was sent from the ear to the thinking brain that controls you.

Another wonder of the ear-cave is a set of three loops of fluid which signal about your balance. When they get confused and upset, as on a rocking boat, or when you whirl about too

fast, they send out frantic distress signals and you become sick and dizzy. How queer to get seasick from the ears!

THE finest machine you own, except that busy brain of yours, is that pair The

Eye

of delicate cameras called the eyes. They are protected in a bony case, set on a soft, fat pad, curtained by lids, and shaded by eyelashes. Tears keep them washed and bright. Extra tears spill over when you cry, and so are wasted, for their real work is to help the lids slide back and forth and carry fine dust down a little gutter to the nose.

The colored part you think of first blue, brown, or gray becomes larger or smaller to let in just enough light through the central hole the pupil. A lens, not fixed like camera glass, but living, movable, and hung by tiny cords, throws the light and the picture-image back through a sort of jelly to a fine photographic plate the retina. The real developer is the brain, which gets the messages from both eyes together, for their cables join. So close is this connection that a bad injury to one eye will usually affect its mate.

These faithful, tender machines deserve your care. Tiny muscles pull them at your bidding. Close work means constant changes and fatigue. Protect your eyes from brilliant, glaring lights and flying dirt. Have steady, softened light for reading. Rest your eyes often by looking far away at pleasant things.

You can do many things your early ancestors never dreamed of, but in

The

Nose

one way, at least, they were keener than you. Their noses-flat and wide-spread-warned of approaching friend, enemy, or food. Many times life itself must have depended upon the quickness of their senses. Then machines came into use and outside signals took the place of smell-messages. Noses became sharper in shape and duller in behavior. Nevertheless, noses are convenient, even if you cannot recognize each automobile by the flavor of its gasoline.

In the first place, being set so conspicuously in the center of the face a nose is an easy means of identification, and a strange one easy to remember. As passageway for air, it sifts out dust with tiny hairs. Its

warm, moist lining fits the air for tender throat and lungs. Mouthbreathing is quicker in a race or swimming contest, but if used for every day it will make the lining of the air tubes thick and rough from battles with the cold and dusty outer air.

For special use of smell the nose is still most useful. Little nerve ends are set high up so that you sniff to catch a faint odor. Sweet odors help you to enjoy the flowers. Sharp, salty sea-air makes you breath deep and strengthens your lung-bellows. Food-smells, if pleasant, make the juices of digestion stir until you notice you are hungry. Odors of gas or decayed things warn you of danger. Your nose will warn you when a crowded room is getting short of fresh air. The sense being a delicate one, it is easily tired, and disregarded messages of odors will soon cease to awaken notice in the brain.

THE mouth is an entrance port of many uses.

The

Mouth

Only clean, useful freight should pass within. To feed all our body machines we eat, and here the mouth is a busy agent. Teeth grind and tear the food. Tongue, cheek, and lips guide it about. Saliva moistens, softens, and starts to change it into usefulness.

The tongue, with its keen sense of touch, detects sharp, gritty particles and pushes them from the throat. Special taste buds are set along the tongue to warn of danger or to send pleasant messages which stir the whole route to receive and welcome the coming building materials within the food. Here, however, the smellmessages are even more concerned. Much that we call "taste" is really smell. The tongue can tell sweet, sour, salt, and bitter. Too much of any one will be refused.

When you disobey your messengers and insist, against their warning, on too much sweet, for instance, these little servants become sulky. Taste and appetite are dulled, and all food seems unwelcome.

On either side of the throat-entrance stands a pair of much abused glands the tonsils. When properly behaved they probably catch and destroy many an entering enemy. But too often they themselves become weakened, torn, and overcome. They then become the stronghold of the enemy, who uses them for poison(Continued on page 241)

R. NOAH was troubled.

He the ark and his eyes fell upon nothing but water, water on every side. From the hold below sounded a fierce disturbance; the sonorous roar of the lions, the piercing shriek of the panthers and wildcats mingled with the scolding chatter of many monkeys, while above the savage din rose, every now and then, the weird, maniacal laugh of the hyena. The animals

were seasick!

All night Mr. Noah had stayed down in the fetid hold in the animal quarters, and side by side with the native African boys, tried to ease the misery of the seasick jungle folk. But taking care of a seasick person and a seasick tiger or leopard, is a different sort of thing, especially when they are

new-comers to civilization.

Upstairs on Mr. Noah's own bunk rested the tiny gallego, the pet of the crew, undisturbed by the tossing of the ark, Calcutta, or the grueling heat wave that enveloped the Red Sea. But two other animals made no sound (causing Mr. Noah to wrinkle his forehead in anxiety) but stretched their long necks over the big cages and stared distressingly around at their

restless shipmates; they had refused happen to the giraffes Mr. Noah would never dare land his ark or face the children of Washington, D. C.

And thereby hangs this tale! The tale of Uncle Sam's Noah who set forth in July, 1926 on a quest for a giraffe for Uncle Sam's Zoo at the capital city, and who brought back, besides the giraffes, 1700 other wild animals; the largest shipment that has

ever crossed the seas at one time.

But a word about "Mr. Noah," whose real name is Dr. William M. Mann. He, like the ancient Noah of the Bible, embarked with a cargo of "clean beasts and beasts that are not clean, and of everything that creepeth upon the earth," and he really surpassed the ancient Noah in at least

one way.

He kept his animals afloat forty-five days on the ship the City of Calcutta, whereas the old Mr. Noah had only a forty day stretch, because the modern Ark had to sail all the way from East Africa, whereas the old one remained anchored more or less and in all probability, there were no seasick passengers to be nursed.

However it wasn't an ancient graybeard who set sail for Africa that

summer, but a nice, jolly, youngishanimals and left a sweetheart when he went on his quest for giraffes!

Now, giraffes are very scarce and extremely delicate. Once they get a sore throat, to which they are susceptible, it has a long, long course to run. There were only nine giraffes in the United States when Mr. Noah left Washington. When he waved the children good-by from the back platform of the train, he called back, "Now you get the name ready and I'll bring back the giraffe to fit it!"

And from then on until Mr. Noah

came back four months later, the children from far and near kept the newspapers busy sending in names for the prospective zoo pet.

The expedition which Dr. Mann

Mr. "Noah" Mann-headed was known as the Smithsonian-Chrysler Expedition, and besides Mr. Noah, there was a moving-picture man, who had several cameras smashed up trying to get "close-ups" of wild animals in the jungle, an artist who wanted to paint wild life "au naturel," and others.

The destination of the expedition was the Tangipahthi territory, in Eastern Africa, where all sorts of

delightful animals that send shivers up and down one's back-even when they are behind iron bars.

Camp was pitched in a village on the fringe of the jungle and preparations were started for the Big Adventure. The animals must be caught in nets and traps and not taken by killing the mother of the brood, Mr. Noah explained to the natives who gathered around eager to be chosen for the expedition. The great inducement was not the twelve cents a day hire, but rather the prospect of dining upon fresh, well cooked meat, a privilege not often enjoyed.

The expedition as it started into the untracked country of the big game, resembled a small army. It had on its pay-roll as many as 500 natives in addition to the five white men who headed the party. The duties of the natives were divided. Some were packers, required to carry sixty pounds on their backs for about twelve hours; runners, the men who scouted ahead and brought back news regarding the movement of the game; hunters especially skilled in the art of hunting and trapping; mechanics and cooks. And now for the hunt.

The natives form a great circle around a territory frequented by certain animals, one segment of the circle holding a net. They then close in, whooping and yelling, driving the animals into the area of the net. If there happens to be a giraffe or rhinoceros, the net trick will not work, for they break through it.

The natives were all aware that the giraffe was the prize upon which the "white man's" heart was set, and they were heartbroken when the first giraffe, which they had chased and thrown in a tussle, escaped. Even the sultan came down to camp and condoled with the hunters, in Senegalese, the native language.

"It is the hand of Allah, my friend. He does not wish this giraffe to leave Africa. He has selected a still better giraffe for you." Sure enough it was not long before a baby giraffe was captured and brought back to camp! He became a great pet with the native boys, who gave him a name, which means in our language, "Our king who will be an ambassador to a foreign land." But the excitement of the hunt, or something, had been too much for the long-necked baby, and one morning, quite unexpectedly, he dropped dead.

Poor Mr. Noah! Only that morning he had received a cablegram from the children of Washington asking

whether their giraffe was a boy or girl, that they might have a suitable name ready for him. Now, Mr. Noah could not reply until he found another inmate for the tall, empty cage.

Meanwhile the camp was fast becoming populated with all sorts of animals. There was no quiet day or night for the squawks and fierce complaints that issued from the cages and boxes. Although a number of leopards crouched and snarled in captivity

THE SHOE-BILL STORK IS A RARE BIRD. THIS ONE IS WORTH $5000

at camp, the one leopard which the natives most desired to trap was still at large-the great yellow-and-black man-hunter!

The little village of Tangipahthi on the edge of the forest lived in constant terror of its ancient enemy-the jungle folk. Sometimes it was a venturesome tiger who had found manfood from the village much to his taste; sometimes a stealthy panther slipping along in the dark, the twinkling lights of the village guiding it to its destination. For months past the terror of the village had been a great leopard, whose sinuous black and yellow form had been glimpsed by the villagers as he made away with provisions, domestic animals, and every now and then a juicy native child. Ah yes, this was the animal for whose capture prayerful hands were being raised to Allah!

When the expedition left Washington, they carried with them an oldfashioned trap, and it was this trap

that "got Brer Leopard's goat" before "Brer Leopard" had a chance to get Uncle Sam's real, live, trembling goat that was put in the trap as a bait. The poor little goat trembled in his boots at the heroie rôle assigned to him, for what is a thin wire netting between a timid little animal and a great hungry man-eater?

Those who watched saw "Brer Leopard" approach, licking his chops at the prospect of a nice tender goat for lunch. There was a soft padding sound, a suspicious sniffing, a cautious investigation of the open side of the trap, followed by a sharp snap as the trap sprang, and the hunting days of the great struggling victim were over! The trembling little goat was withdrawn to safety, the huge trap lifted on the shoulders of several natives, and the triumphal march to the village started!

That night the village held a wild and picturesque celebration. Around a blazing camp-fire they circled, their dark bodies swaying back and forth as they danced, making, the while, taunting gesticulations toward the leopard's cage, while they jeered and sang:

"Oh, you proud one, you sly one, now you see where you are! Now you will understand how much smarter is the white man! You, who used to be so daring . . . you who have carried away our friends

see how you have fallen! Now you will whet your white teeth on iron bars . . . hah . . . hah . . . hah you sly one!"

Once, while Mr. Noah and his associates were on the lookout for the giraffe, they got into the pigmy country where the very largest of the little natives did not stand over four feet. As the members of the expedition dined with the hospitable folk, Mr. Noah jokingly asked why they did not have elephant steaks. Whereupon the host apologized, saying they had not run afoul an elephant recently. As humorous as this seemed, the hunters found out afterward that the little people do kill elephants. They run beneath the elephants wounding them with their spears, then run for their lives in every direction. The next day they go back to the battle-field and often find their prey dead and ready to be converted into elephant steaks.

But Mr. Noah didn't want pigmies for his zoo at home, he wanted giraffes and it began to look as if he might have to go back to Washington without any, for time was moving along and soon camp must be broken and the ark loaded for the homeward trip. However, upon the very eve of the

departure, Fate played a lucky trick into Mr. Noah's hands. Two fine young giraffes were offered him for sale, by a native animal dealer.

Meanwhile the children back in Washington had been informed that their giraffe was a boy and the name "Hi-boy" had been selected by the judges as the one that the new-comer should bear. But when Mr. Noah arrived in October with two giraffes instead of one, another contest was put on by the newspapers and "Dot" was chosen for the name of "Hiboy's" girl friend.

Poor Mr. Noah! He was indeed travel-weary and anxious when that nerve-racking fortyfive day trip was over, and the Calcutta, which had carried many animal cargoes, but none so large as Mr. Noah's, docked at Boston. The fact that almost all of the animals were alive and in such good condition was due to the untiring care which Mr. Noah and his associates had given them.

To help with the task of caring for and feeding, two native African boys were brought along, James and Saidi. Saidi was an expert elephant-hunter, who possessed a knack with wild animals, and James just loved monkeys and could almost talk monkeylanguage to them.

But Mr. Noah's job wasn't over when the Ark landed, nor yet when the great animated crates, from which came blood-curdling sounds, were unpacked at the zoo! These restless and homesick denizens of the forest and tall-grass country must be made as comfortable as possible while they were getting acclimated to Uncle

Sam's zoo.

Too, many new menus must be added to the big zoo kitchen. Three to five live chickens a day for the rare shoe-bill stork, one of two which have

Food, similar to that to which they were accustomed must be provided; the birds, groggy from their long confinement, must not be released

In the animal houses there was no less commotion! The older residents

were craning their necks for all
the world like curious boarders,
to see what manner of creature
was to be the new neighbor. The
"home monkeys" many of them
born in captivity, hung on the
bars, their quizzical little faces
expressing their interest in the
"African" cousins-seventy of
them. The old baboon was
"combing his auburn
auburn hair,"
though not "by the light of the
moon," as he sized up the rare
"purple-faced" monkeys that
huddled in frightened little
groups, or leaped to the top of the
cage at the approach of visitors.

Then there were some new creatures, the like of which the oldest inhabitant in the zoo had never seen or had forgot; the duiker, a wee little antelope no bigger than a dog; the kubu, the much sought-after immense antelope; the reed-buck, the only one in America, and the gentle little eland, of the antelope family, whom the natives caught when he was left behind by the swift run

ning herd; the elephant shrew much like a house rat in size, with an extended nose like an elephant tusk, and the mynoh, the talking blackbird, who shrieked out "Move around there now," "You're my baby," and many other expressions learned in camp. Then, of course, there were tigers, leopards, panthers, hyenas, besides many reptiles and strange, brightplumaged new birds.

The zoo folk must have wondered why such a crowd of children collected outside the cage of the little mongoose. How could they know that Rickiticki-tavi in Kipling's "Jungle Book," had endeared to children everywhere all mongooses for all time?

"Oh, Mother he looks like our kitchen floor!" cried out a small boy in front of the large glass box where the great python uncoiled his thirty feet of black-and-white checks, as he thrust his brutish head against the glass sides of the cage.

Of all the 1700 animals that Mr. Noah brought back, the cony was perhaps the only one that was identically the same in looks as old Mr. Noah's cony, the animal spoken of so much in the Bible. The style in animals, like dresses, changes after so long, and the cony is now almost extinct.

After all the zoo is just like some (Continued on page 252)