In less than two weeks I was able to take him in my hand after he had curled up for the night in his little bed in the sleeve, and as I carefully took him out of the cage, he would allow me to stroke the soft, silky fur on his back and kiss the little head. Meanwhile he would remain curled up in a tiny ball in my hand, his eyes tightly closed as if asleep, as long as I would stroke and caress him, but the moment the petting ceased, he would give his back a little wriggle for the stroking to be continued. If it was not immediately resumed, he would open one eye to see what the trouble was; and if sure there was to be no more caressing, both eyes would open wide and his little head pop up to ascertain the cause.

In a few months Chico, as I had decided to call him, became very tame and confiding. In his habits he was lively to a remarkable degree, scampering about the rooms, often leaping from chair to table, and, as these exercises were not enough to exhaust his exuberant spirits, he often indulged in a more violent form of exercise, which I called "looping the loop." He would run across the floor of the cage, up the side, across the top (feet upward), jumping down the other side to the bottom, whence the same performance would be gone over again, with such quickness of motion one could see only a blur of red fur and hear the rhythmical thump, thump of his little feet as they struck the floor of the cage, until he stopped for sheer want of breath.

He was a charming combination of grace, vivacity, and energy. He dearly loved a frolic, and would playfully catch my fingers in his mouth and, turning over upon his back, scratch and bite, rolling over and over. As the play grew fast and

my kisses by pressing his little lips against my hand, opening and shutting them quickly, and often making a queer little smacking sound. If he desired to come out of his cage, he would firmly hold to my fingers, and as long as I would stroke and pet him, sometimes squeezing him tightly in my hand and shaking him rapidly up and down, which he seemed to enjoy hugely, he would remain passive and perfectly immovable, never offering to play until he was quite sure he would receive no more caresses. Then at once he would be ready for a frolic, and, slipping through my hand like a flash, would be on the other side of the room or at the top of the draperies above the windows, before I realized he had started, so swift were his movements.

Chico could now take small pieces of apple or bread in his little hands, and, sitting upright with his fluffy tail over his back, nibble as fast as he had been flying over the room a moment before. He was exceedingly neat, never failing to clean his hands after holding the least bit of food in them.

In the early autumn his teeth were strong and sharp enough to gnaw through the shells of nuts, and it was very amusing to see him take a filbert or a pecan, quickly turning it around and around to select just the right place, and then, holding it firmly in his hands, gnaw through the shell in a few moments. Soon he was able to gnaw through the thick hard shell of the butternut, being extremely fond of its delicious meat. He always turned them about in his hands, as he did other nuts, until unerringly he found just the right spot for commencing operations, so that

he would eat only the heart from the kernel), and water, with occasionally celery, pine-cones, and acorns.

My little pet seemed to live but for affection and love, and was only afraid of my saucy and jealous tame robin, "Rollo." When they were both out of their cages and I took Chico in my hand to pet, Rollo would immediately fly to my shoulder, and, shrieking with rage, peck at the gentle Chico, causing him to jump from my hands and seek refuge in his cage, where he would hide in his little bed. Rollo also delighted to put his sharp beak between the bars of Chico's cage, peck at him, steal his nuts and apple, or drink from his glass in the most impudent manner possible.

It became necessary for me to train Chico not to sample everything in the room with his sharp teeth, as he raced about over the furniture, ready in the twinkling of an eye to gnaw the corner of a mahogany table or a hole through a portière. My family thought it would be impossible to teach a squirrel not to gnaw, but I knew that my little pet was so intelligent and so fond of me that with patience it could be accomplished. So the lessons commenced, and by unceasing patience and watchfulness on my part, in about two weeks Chico had learned that he must not use his sharp little teeth on anything that was not to be eaten.

Chico learned to do many small tricks. He would eat sitting on my hand or wrist, with his little tail over his back. He would play at boxing, standing upright and patting back at me with his tiny hands; at soldier by holding a pencil at attention in his arms; and at hide-and-seek.

the next time. If I went to his cage and said, "Chico, bring me a nut," he would run to the corner where he stored them, select the finest one, climb up on my hand, and carefully place the nut in my palm. Or if I closed my fingers tightly over a nut, saying, "Chico, come and find a nut," he would rush for my hand, trying to open my fingers by thrusting his little pink nose against them, and if they did not open, he would carefully take the tip of my little finger between his teeth and pull it open, taking each finger in the same way until the nut was disclosed; then he would pounce upon it, pretending great joy.

He was quite delighted to show off his little tricks, and would accept things to eat from the many friends and strangers who came to see him; but during the five years of his life, he never allowed any one but myself to touch or hold him, although different members of the family spent days in coaxing him with delicious bits. On such occasions he would slip through their fingers like a flash. He liked nothing better than to curl up in my hand and have me stroke his head until he went to sleep, but when some one else would place a hand over him in place of mine, he would instantly awaken and slip away. He was very mischievous and inquisitive, and liked to hide small articles as well as to investigate everything in a new room.

One day while Chico was running about I missed him, and when I called and he did not answer as usual, or appear, I hastened into the next room, where I heard a little crackling sound. To my dismay, I discovered him perched upon the edge of a match-box, which he had opened, and,

after extracting the matches, was calmly eating off their tops. Quickly I snatched him up and wiped the poisonous phosphorus from his mouth and little pink tongue, while he lay on his back in my hand, looking at me with mischievous eyes. I was very much alarmed for several days, but my prompt discovery doubtless prevented his swallowing much of the poison and saved his life. If I left him for a short visit, he seemed to miss me, and on my return would appear overjoyed, rushing to my hand and squeezing my fingers between his arms and presenting me with his choicest nut. At the hotels where we stopped in our travels, he created such a sensation that strangers often sent to me asking to be permitted to see my wonderful little squirrel, and it was unusual to return to my room without finding a collection of housemaids and bell-boys standing about the cage.

Chico took wonderful care of himself, and was extremely neat and clean. Every morning he took a thorough bath, afterward taking much time over his toilet, fluffing his pretty tail and brushing his fur, until it was as sleek and glossy as satin. He became so clever that he was able to put his hand through the bars of his cage and unfasten the door, when he would gleefully sally forth and play until tired. Then he would curl up under some cozy pillow or rug for a nap before returning to the cage of which he was so fond, and he appeared greatly disturbed if the door was so closed that he could not enter.

One day while in a Boston hotel, I neglected to padlock the door, now necessary lest he meet with some disaster during my absence, and little Chico, becoming lonely, opened the door. On my return I was horrified when I called, "Chico, Chico," that there was no reply. I looked in all our rooms, but, alas, my pet could not be found. Fearing he had wandered away, I called the maid

"LITTLE CHICO FELL OUT OF THE BROKEN CAGE."

and a search of the corridors and hotel was made, but Chico could not be found. I was quite beside myself with grief at my loss, and going into my

ceeded in slipping into the house, watching her chance to prowl about in forbidden territory. She pulled open with her paws an unlatched door, and, darting into the room, spied the cage where Chico was peacefully slumbering, unmindful of his danger. With a wild leap the cat sprang upon the table and hurled herself against the cage with such violence that it was dashed to the floor, and poor little Chico, half dead from fright and the sudden attack of his enemy, fell out of the broken cage to the floor. The great cat sprang to snatch her prey, but, as she pounced upon him, Chico, giving a wild shriek of despair, sprang away with such swiftness that the cat only caught a tiny tuft of fur from his side. To her amazement and anger, she saw the squirrel dart across the room, his fluffy tail waving in triumph, run up the heavy draperies at the window, and seat himself at the top, where he scolded and chattered in rage and fright at the now infuriated cat.

With a snarl of anger at the escape of her victim, the cat sprang at the draperies, and, pushing her claws into the heavy brocade, quickly made her way to the top, but just as she was about to snatch at Chico a second time, he leaped from his

high perch to the floor. Now commenced a mad chase. Over tables and under chairs little Chico flew, with the big black cat close behind. So fast and furious grew Chico's race for life, that a servant, hearing the noise of falling chairs and tables, ran to see what was happening. As she opened the door, Chico like a flash dashed up her gown, over her head, and into the room beyond, while the cat, making a sudden rush between her feet, upset the astonished servant, who fell sprawling to the floor. "Be the powers!" she exclaimed as she slowly picked herself up, "it must have been the ould bye himself, ter first scratch me face, and then knock me over loike that!"

Chico, meanwhile, getting a fresh start of his enemy, skipped nimbly across the next room, through a hall, and up the stairs to the rooms above, in search of his mistress. The cat followed in hot pursuit. As Chico heard her leaping up the stairs, he tried to remember the room of his mistress, and, quickening his pace, passed an open door and turning sharply to the right, fled across the hall and into the chamber beyond. The cat now was close behind him, and little Chico's strength was fast failing. With a few more steps and a leap, he might be safe in his mistress's hand, but could he do it?

He gathered his remaining strength for one quick leap-then another-and he had gained the

bed! There, oh joy! was his beloved mistress, fast asleep. With a chuckle of delight and relief, he scrambled into the safety of her arms.

Suddenly awakened by my little pet and, astonished at such a performance, I had not time to place my hand over the trembling, frightened, and exhausted little creature, when, to my amazement and horror, the big black cat sprang upon my bed. Holding Chico close to me with one hand, with the other I caught the cat by the throat just as she sprang upon us, and only in time to save my little pet. Jumping out of bed, still holding the animal by the throat in spite of her scratching, snarling, and struggling, and with Chico still in my left hand, I managed to drag the cat to the door, thrust her out and closed it, to the intense relief and joy of my pet, who kissed my fingers with his little pink tongue and then cuddled up close in my hand to rest in peace and contentment, knowing that he was safe after his exhausting race and his escape from the jaws of the great black cat.

FOR five delightful years my little pet and I played together, traveled in the sunny South, and passed the hot summer far away in the north among the White Mountains of New Hampshire. He was surely the most intelligent, affectionate, and gentle little red squirrel ever known.

BY L. J. BRIDGMAN ·

They scold at me when I go up,
They scold when I go down.
I think they find more fault with me
Than any one else in town.
Perhaps I do seem blunt and plain.
From very early youth
I've tried, without apology,

Each hour, to tell the truth.