MARY'S SQUIRREL.
WANT to tell you about the little squirrel we have. His name is Frisky. He came from New Jersey, and was quite tame when we got him. We thought it would be better to let him out in the fresh air among the trees; so we let him out.
I was away at aunt Lizzie's; but I came home early. Just as Henry and I were going to bed,—Henry is my brother,—the cook called me, and, of course, Henry came after me to see what was the matter.
I could not understand what it was at first; but pretty soon I saw it was Frisky up in one of the trees on our place. Frisky never bites: so it was not much trouble to catch him.
All the servants were there; but they could not catch him, because he did not know them: so I made them stand back, and held out a peanut to him. He came down and ate it; then he trusted me, and came down and ate another. As soon as I got him within reach, I seized him and gave him to William, the gardener, who, while I held the door open, popped him into his cage. I am eight years old, and my name is
MARY WINSOR.
DRAWING-LESSON.
VOL. XXX.—NO. 2.