Never give a squirrel any seasoned cake or soft bread to eat. Nuts, grains, such as dried corn, and now and then a bit of apple, are enough for him, and he should always have access to plenty of fresh, clean water. Do not make the mistake of supposing that when your squirrel has become on sufficiently good terms with you to be permitted to take little trips among his old haunts he will forage for himself. When he once becomes accustomed to being fed he speedily forgets how to find food for himself in the natural way.
Squirrels are remarkably intelligent, and a whole book might be written about them and their habits, after the manner in which Mr. Frank Buckland wrote his celebrated volume about rats. A little incident that happened to one of my own pet squirrels shows how intelligent they are, and how appreciative of kindness. A little flyer that was seated on the window-sill of an upper-story room suddenly disappeared. Thinking he had gone out upon the roof, I called him in the usual way repeatedly, but no squirrel came.
I searched for him for some time, and finally concluded that he had decided to take a vacation. Three days after the little fellow had disappeared I was sitting with my uncle upon the piazza, when we heard a scratching noise, which appeared to come from a tin leader or rain pipe that extended from the roof down the corner of the house to a cistern. The pipe made a sharp angle at the piazza, and it was from this point that the sound seemed to come. As soon as we began to talk the sound stopped, to be repeated the moment we became quiet. I tapped the pipe gently, and spoke, and the frantic scratching from the inside convinced me of the truth at once. It was poor little "Chatters"; and now the question was how to get him out.
At last the plan was suggested of removing a section of the pipe and lowering a cord, which was done. I shall never forget the sensations I felt when I lowered that miniature life-line. Presently I felt a tug, and soon, sure enough, I could feel something climbing up. It was suggested that it might be a rat, but in a moment a little squirrel's head appeared, and "Chatters" gave one leap, landed on my shoulder, and then quickly hid himself in my pocket. If any boy spends his summer in the country, he will find more pleasure taming these little animals than cruelly pursuing them with sling-shot or stones, or shooting them with a rifle for the sake of so-called "sport."
[THE REBELS DID NOT RUN.]
A CUBAN WAR PICTURE.
BY THOMAS R. DAWLEY, JR.
Darkness turned to the gray of dawn and revealed the hazy outline of the Cuban camp. An expanse of wood and bush and swamp, dotted here and there with lofty palms. A labyrinth of winding paths guarded by impenetrable thickets. Within an open space, far within, scattered with the palm-leaf tents of the Cuban patriots, smouldered the camp-fires.