VII

VIILITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST CAR-RIDEYoucan see three thunder-storms at once from Blowing Rock.Perhaps sometimes you can see more than that number.This is because Blowing Rock is on the edge of a mountain, where you can look off and off and off,—oh, so far, over a sea of mountains, where the storms gather. You know a thunder-storm is not very big; it is only as big as two or three clouds close together, and these clouds may be rather small.It is queer to see the rain pouring down in long straight lines over one part of the mountains, while all the rest is in sunshine.Little Mitchell’s lady used to like to watch the thunder-storms, but Little Mitchell did not care anything about them. He preferred going with the lady to the big rock from which the little village of Blowing Rock gets its name. The Indians named it long ago, because when the wind is in the right quarter it blows so hard you cannot throw anything over the rock. If you try to throw your handkerchief or your hat over, you cannot do it, because the wind flings it back to you. Sometimes it blows so strong you couldn’t even jump over,—so people say. But I should not like to try that, no matter how hard the wind blew; it is such a very long way down to the tree-tops at the foot of the rock!What Little Mitchell liked at the big rock was the sunshine and the fine places to run about; but he never ran far from his lady, and at theslightest noise he would scurry back to her.There were some dear little children at Blowing Rock; but you know how Mitchell felt on that subject! He would have nothing to do with them, and if one of them took him up he would squirm and squeal so that he was quickly dropped.It was at Blowing Rock that he found out he could hop.His lady used to let him out of his box early in the morning, so that he could run around the room and exercise his muscles. She was afraid to take him outside with her unless she went a long way off, on account of the cats.So he would frolic with her, and jump at her hand under the bed-covers in the early morning, and when she got up he would play about the room, run over the table, look at everythingon the bureau, including his own funny little face in the looking-glass; and one day he found out he could hop.He went hop, hop, hop, just like a grown-up squirrel, the whole length of the room.Hop, hop went Little Mitchell. He had always crawled or crept about before this; but that day he went hop, hop, hop, all up and down the room, and then up and down again.When the lady was ready to go out, she thought she would put him in his box. He had never given her any trouble before, but this time he scampered under the bed, away over against the wall out of reach, and there he went hop, hop, hop, up and down, up and down; but he never came out from under the bed, because he did not want the lady to catch him.Little Mitchell and his Wheel“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.” (Page170)He looked so funny, hopping up and down, and he was having such a glorious time, that his lady did not like to end it, and waited ever so long; but as he kept on hopping, and showed no sign of ever going to stop, she finally got under the bed and captured him.You see he had found something new to do, and he was as excited over it as a child is over a new and delightful game. When the lady put him in his box, he squirmed and screamed; and when she fastened the cover down, he cried and scratched to get out. It was too bad,—but what else could the lady do? She did not want to stay shut up in her room all day, and she dared not leave him alone for fear some one might open the door and a cat get in.But he was really tired by this time; and when he found that crying and scratching did no good, he curled up and went to sleep. When the ladypeeped into the room before going off, he was as quiet as a mouse; and when she returned, he was still sound asleep in his little box.Now about hopping,—that is the way grown squirrels get over the ground, in little jumps; and Baby Mitchell was growing every day, not only in size but in squirrel habits. How do you suppose he knew about hopping, when he had never seen a squirrel hop? And how do you suppose he knew about sitting up and holding his nuts in his hands, when he had never seen a squirrel do these things? And how do you suppose he knew about washing his face after the funny manner of the squirrel folk, when he had never seen another squirrel do it?I cannot tell you how he knew all these things; but he did know them, and as he grew older, more and moresquirrel habits came to him, as you shall see.The lady stayed at Blowing Rock only a few days; then one morning she and Little Mitchell started off down the long winding road in a carriage,—and this was the end of their life in the mountains.At the end of that drive they got onto a railway train, and went a little way, and then changed to another train,—only they had to wait a long time between trains.Little Mitchell’s lady was very sorry for him now, because you see he was getting big enough to run about, and he had to take this long journey all shut up in his little box.But when they got to the station where they had to wait so long, she opened his box, and out he came. He ran all over her as fast as he could go, even jumping from her shoulder to thetop of her head, and played with her hair, which she told him was naughty. Then he jumped down and ran all around the tops of the benches, for there was nobody else in the waiting-room.After a while a gentleman came in to wait for the train too, and he fell quite in love with the playful little fellow, and wanted to buy him to take home to his children; but of course the lady would not sell him.At last the train came, and they got on and rode awhile, and then got off again to wait for another train. This was in a large station, full of people and lighted by electric lights.Little Mitchell’s lady saw his box bumping about, and heard something inside go scratch, scratch, scratch. So she took off the cover, and out came Little Mitchell. He was very tired from being shut up so long and carried so fast in the jolty train, and he wantedto come out and see what was going on. The electric lights and the crowd and the strange sights and sounds all excited him. His eyes shone, and he was not satisfied to sit on his lady’s shoulder and look about. He wanted to leap upon the back of a lady who was dressed in laces and furs. He was determined to do it, too; but every time his lady caught him just as he was about to spring, and told him he mustn’t.How surprised the strange lady would have been if he had done it! And how frightened Little Mitchell would have been! For, once there, he would not have known what to do, and would have wished himself back on his own lady’s shoulder.At last she went into a dark corner with him, and let him sit on the seat by her and look at the people while he ate a piece of sugar cooky.Then the train came, and they got into the sleeping-car,—Little Mitchell in his little box, of course.He was a good squirrel all night, and early in the morning the lady let him look out of the window; but he did not like that,—it frightened him to see things rushing by so fast. He preferred to race up and down in the berth, and jump at the lady’s fingers from under the edge of the blanket, and turn somersaults when she made believe catch him.After a little while he got tired of this play, and was quite willing to be put into his box, where he stayed quietly until they got to Jersey City, and crossed the ferry, and went to the Grand Central Station in New York City, and got upon another train that soon left the noisy city behind.The noise and motion of the train seemed to tire and confuse the littlefellow, so that he was glad to stay hidden away in his own box, which was now the only thing that really seemed like home to him,—for even the lady had changed her skin, or at least she had put on strange clothes, which must have seemed to him just like changing her skin.When they left New York on the train for Hartford,—which is where they were going next,—Little Mitchell was let out of his box to sit on the seat by the lady’s side and eat his dinner of roasted chestnuts and cooky. They still had some of the big, sweet Grandmother chestnuts, which they had brought with them, and which had all been nicely roasted, though Little Mitchell was beginning to enjoy a bit of raw chestnut by this time. Still, he preferred the roasted ones, and was able to pick them out from a handful of both kinds.When he had finished his chestnut, he climbed up on the back of the seat, and looked at an old lady, who fell in love with him on the spot, and wanted ever so much to hold him in her hand; but do you think he would allow it? Not he. He jumped up on his own lady’s shoulder, and then sprang down into her lap and hid in the folds of her dress.He was still such a baby, you see!It is not a very long ride from New York to Hartford, as you know; and when they got off the train it was almost dark, and there was a friend waiting for them, and soon they were driving along over nice smooth streets that did not jolt them at all. Then they came to a driveway under big trees, and to a house with the windows all lighted up; and here they got out of the carriage, and some more friends came to the door to meet them. They were in Hartford at last.VIIILITTLE MITCHELL GOES TO BOSTONNodoubt Little Mitchell was glad enough to go to sleep that night in a box that stayed still instead of waggling about as it had done for so long a time on the train.It was a very hot night, although rather late in the season for such warm weather in Hartford. It was so warm that the lady did not like to shut Little Mitchell up in his box, even though it had so many holes in it. So she left the cover off, and just before going to bed she looked in to see how he was getting along.Well, there he lay, on his back, with his head resting on the edge of the box and his arms up over his head, forall the world like a hot, tired, human little baby.He looked so cunning that the lady called some of her friends to see him; but by that time the light had waked him up, and he stretched and yawned and curled up after the usual fashion of squirrels when they go to sleep.He was up bright and early next morning, racing about the room, playing hide-and-seek with the lady under the bed-clothes, and having a grand time.The lady’s friend thought his little box too close and small for him, and gave him a nice large basket; but he did not like to sleep in that at all, and cried and scratched so when he was put in to take a nap that the lady let him out. And then what do you think he did?Why, he ran straight to his ownlittle box and crept in and curled up and went to sleep there.But first he made a visit into the big world. He went into the sitting-room, where there were ever so many tables and chairs for him to examine, and, best of all, a wide couch with many big soft pillows on it; and behind these pillows he would hide, and jump out at anybody’s fingers that came that way,—for all the world like a playful kitten.He had a fine time playing with the lady’s friends behind the pillows; and finally he climbed up the nice soft coat which her friend the gentleman who lived there had on, and got into his coat-pocket, and would not come out. It was cosey and dark there, and he liked it; and when anybody put in a hand to take him out, he would scream and nip at their fingers.Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.” (Page174)And this, my dears, was not playing at all,—it was real genuine naughtiness; for when he played he was careful never really to nip anybody,—he only made believe, you know.Well, the gentleman who lived there let him stay in his pocket until he was ready to go down town; then he called the lady, and she put in her hand, and Little Mitchell jumped at it and growled, but when he found whose hand it was he did not nip at all,—he would no more hurt his lady than he would hurt himself, no matter how naughty he felt.Well, the lady wanted to go away for a little while; so she put him into his box,—which was not an easy matter, for as fast as she got him in one side he squirmed out at the other, and screamed, and was very naughty indeed.Finally she got him in, and fastened the cover; but he acted so that shefinally took him out and fastened him into the basket.When she got back, what do you think? Little Mitchell was not in the basket! He had gnawed a naughty great hole right through the pretty new basket, and had got out and was hiding in the closet in the folds of a dress that was hanging there.The next time he was missing, somebody found him among the papers in the bottom of a scrap-basket, where he sat, jumping at any strange fingers that came his way, and nipping them, and growling like a bad little bear, until his lady came and fished him out, screaming and squirming, but not nipping.Why do you suppose the gentle, timid little Baby Mitchell had all at once become such a naughty, self-willed squirrel?WhatshallI do with him? thoughtthe lady. She was afraid he would gnaw her friend’s furniture, and do all sorts of mischievous things; so whenever she was not there to take care of him, she had to keep him shut up in his little box, which was fast getting to be too small for him.One morning, as he sat on the window-sill eating a nut, he had a visit.Along came a big reddish yellowish squirrel, as large as a full-grown gray one, but all fluffy,—a very handsome, afraid-of-nobody sort of fellow, who sat on the window-sill on the other side of the wire screen, and looked in at Little Mitchell.How do you suppose Little Mitchell received this pretty visitor? He just dropped his nut with a squeal, and scampered off as if the old cat were after him, and went and hid in the corner under the table.You wouldn’t consider that very good manners, would you? But then, you see, he was really only a baby, and had not yet learned how to behave.There were a great many squirrels about the lady’s friend’s place. The grounds were large, with fine big trees and wide lawns,—just the kind of place squirrels like, for nobody can shoot them there, and they know it.So all about were squirrels,—little red fellows, and big gray fellows, and once in a while a big, tawny fluffy fellow such as came to visit Little Mitchell. Well, these squirrels played a great deal, scampering about the lawn and racing over the branches of the trees, which made bridges for them high up in the air. And oh, how they would jump! It was enough to make one dizzy to look at them.But when the chestnuts that grewon the big trees back of the house were ripe, then was the time of joy for all these squirrels.They had their own trouble in getting their share of the nuts,—what with the boys and all the other people who wanted them,—but you may be sure the squirrels got more than anybody else.There were so many squirrels hunting for nuts!—and I am sorry to say they were not all as honest as they might have been.The little red squirrels were the quickest, and got the most nuts; but they didn’t keep the most, because there were those rascally gray squirrels, which were nimble-witted if they were not nimble-footed.You know what the squirrels do with their nuts. They hide them. If they do not find a good place in a hollow tree or somewhere, then theyjust dig a little hole and bury the nut in the ground.One day Little Mitchell’s lady was sitting by a window that looked out on the lawn at the back of the house, and this is what she saw.Along came a little red squirrel with a nut in his mouth. He dug a hole in the ground with his little paws, very fast indeed. Then he tucked the nut in, covered it up, and patted the dirt and grass all down nice and smooth over it.This done, he scampered off and got another nut and buried it in the same way, and then another and another, until he had planted quite a space with his nuts. Then off he went, and I am sure you could not have found one of those nuts, he had hidden them so cleverly, patting the earth and grass down over them, so that the places where they were did not show at all.But if you could not have found them, there was somebody else who could.The little red squirrel had no sooner hidden his last nut and gone off, than along came a big gray squirrel. Hop, hop, he came, his nose to the ground. Then he stopped, and began to dig very fast with his hands, and—pop!—out came one of the nuts the little red squirrel had so carefully hidden!Then the big gray mischief bounded off to the other side of the lawn, wherehedug a hole and buried that nut! His hole was deeper,—very likely too deep for the little red fellow to get his nut again, though I am not sure about that. But, anyway, the gray squirrel dug up all the poor little red fellow’s nuts, and went off and hid them, one by one, somewhere else.The lady sat at the window and watched this mischief. Then the graysquirrel sprang up a tree and went tearing across the grove chattering like mad.No, not because he felt so proud of what he had done, but because a blue-jay was after him.There were blue-jays in the grove, too, and they were always tormenting the squirrels, chasing them and screaming at them as though they meant to do all sorts of things to them.Little Mitchell did not see these things going on among his kinsfolk, because he would have nothing to do with any other squirrels. He would not even look at them; and if one came near the window where he was, he always scampered off and hid.One day the lady took Little Mitchell down town with her. He was in his little box, you know, because she could not quite trust him to go without it. She was afraid he wouldjump on somebody’s back, or do something dreadful on the electric car; so she shut him up in his box, and took him along.You couldn’t guess where they went!It was to the photographer’s, to see if he could take Little Mitchell’s picture. The man said he would try.They put Little Mitchell up on a stand; but he wouldn’t stay. They did everything they could think of, but it was of no use,—he wouldn’t keep still one second.At last the lady sat down, and tried to coax him to sit still with her; but he wouldn’t do that, either. He jumped up on her shoulder, and cocked his tail up over his head,—it was quite a tail by this time,—and peeped out at the photographer, and at the queer box with a glass eye that kept pointing at him. The photographer snapped, the way they do when theytake a picture; but Little Mitchell was too quick for him, and gave his tail a flirt that spoiled the picture.Then the photographer got all ready again; but this time, just as he was about to take the picture, Little Mitchell jumped up on his lady’s head,—and that, of course, wouldn’t do.So they got all ready again, with Little Mitchell sitting on his lady’s knee; but again he flirted off, just in time to spoil the picture.Then he climbed up on his lady’s arm, and the photographer whistled, and Little Mitchell cocked up his tail and his ears,—just as you see him in the picture,—and listened, and in a trice the man had pressed the bulb and the restless Little Mitchell had his picture taken after all. Whether it was a success or not, you can decide for yourself; for it is the frontispiece to this very book.When the lady was ready to go, she could not find Little Mitchell. That is because he was in the photographer’s pocket. He had climbed in there to hide away after the excitement of having his picture taken; and at last the photographer laughed, for he knew the little rascal was there all the time, and hauled him out, squirming and protesting, and handed him to the lady.In a few days she was ready to go on to Boston; and she said she would be glad to get there, so as to have a suitable place for Little Mitchell, where he would not have to be shut up so much and yet could not get into mischief.So they said good-bye to the Hartford friends, and started for Boston, Little Mitchell in his little box, which he did not like at all.They had their lunch on the train, and Little Mitchell’s lunch was chestnuts and chinkapins, which he atesitting in the corner of the seat next the window. But his lady had some very dainty sandwiches, made of thin slices of bread and butter with cream cheese between.Presently Little Mitchell smelled the lady’s lunch, and it smelled better than his own; so he threw down his nut and ran up on her arm and tried to take her sandwich away from her.She said no, for she feared it might not agree with him; but he said yes, he would have some, and he snatched and got a crumb which he crowded into his mouth.The lady set him down on the seat and gave him his nut; but he threw it down, and again snatched at her sandwich. He nearly got it all this time, but the lady caught it away just in time. Then he began to scream and struggle and fight for the sandwich, until the people in the car began tolaugh, and then the lady gave him a little piece, and he sat up very straight, eating cheese sandwich and looking as solemn as an owl.When they neared Boston, there was a struggle to get him into his box; for he had decided he wouldn’t go. But this time he had to; and the minute they got off the train the lady drove to a bird-store and got a big wire squirrel-cage to take home with her.As soon as she was in her own room, she let Little Mitchell out. Such a relief as it was to get him safely there! And such a time as he had getting acquainted with his new home! He went all about the room,—over the couch, on the table, all through the bookcase, and even into the closet where the lady hung her dresses.Little Mitchell Plays with a String“Across the room and back again he would chase it.” (Page190)Then he helped her to unpack her trunk and put everything away. Of course the way he helped was to get under her feet or her hands and be in the way all the time as much as possible.Then the lady put him in the big new cage, and shut the door. He walked all around it, and then got into the wheel. You know the wire wheel that is always in a squirrel-cage? As soon as he moved, of course the wheel began to turn, and he began to run. The faster he ran the faster it turned, until he fairly flew.At last his legs ached so he could run no more, and he stopped, and then the wonderful wheel stopped too; but as soon as he took a step, it turned again. Finally he jumped out; but in a few minutes he went back and tried it again. He thought it was splendid fun; and so all in a minute, without any teaching, Little Mitchell learned how to use his play-wheel.The lady stood close by the cage and watched him, for she feared he might be frightened by it, and if he had seemed at all troubled she was ready to put in her hand and stop the wheel until he gradually learned how to use it.IXLITTLE MITCHELL’S HAPPY DAYSLittle Mitchellwas a very happy squirrel in his Boston home. His lady’s room had a large bay-window in the end, that looked out over the tops of the houses and away off up the beautiful Charles River; and there was a large platform, almost like a little room, in the bay-window, and here, by the side of the writing-table, stood his cage. Its door was always open when the lady was at home, and he had glorious frolics all about the big room.He climbed everywhere, but the best fun was racing over the Japanese screen. The lady had no tree for him to climb, so she gave him the screen to play with; and up and down it hewould go, now this side, now that. But he had the best time biting the eyes out of the birds on the screen and unravelling the embroidery.Then he would sit up on top of the screen and gnaw away at the wooden frame. You see, when he was spoiling the screen he was not spoiling anything else; and as he liked the screen better than anything else, his lady said he might as well eat it up if he wanted to, so she gave it to him.It was very funny to see him go up the side of the screen, which stood upright, you know, like the wall of a house. His claws were as sharp as a cat’s, and he would hold on by his front feet, and jump up with his hind feet and get a new hold with his front ones, and so on. He looked as though he went hopping up the screen. And it was funnier still when he came down head-first.But funniest of all was to see him hang by his hind toes, head down, and play with his tail! He was very fond of playing with his tail, and when he was on the floor he would often chase it just as a kitten does. It was a fine tail by this time, long and bushy; and when he got excited he would fluff it out until it looked like a real grown-up squirrel’s tail.But talking of tails, the most outrageously funny thing Little Mitchell ever did was to roll himself up into a ball, with his tail hugged in his arms and held between his teeth, then go over and over, like a ball, from one end of the platform to the other.The first time the lady saw him, she was rather startled,—she could not imagine for a moment what that queer soft-looking ball was, rolling so fast about the platform. How she did laugh when she saw that it was only LittleMitchell amusing himself! She had never seen a squirrel or anything else act like that before.He was so funny playing about the room, hanging by his toes from the screen and rolling around like a ball, that the lady could do nothing but watch him when he was out of the cage. She said he wasted all her time; and he certainly did waste a great deal of it.The first thing in the morning, he had to be fed and given a drink of fresh water. He ate all sorts of nuts now, but he would not crack the hard ones himself. The lady used to bring home any nice new nuts that she saw when she was out, and Little Mitchell was always on hand to open her parcels. He enjoyed opening them as much as you do when your mother comes home from shopping. If he found nuts, he would get into the bag and paw themall over, and at last run off with one. If there were no nuts, he would sniff at everything, and then go off, though sometimes he found something he liked to play with in the parcels.When he was hungry, he insisted on sitting upon the lady’s knee to eat his nuts. Of course he could sit up as well as anybody now, and hold the nut in his funny little hands. Some people would saypaws; but if a squirrel has not hands, then nobody has. Just watch one take a nut and turn it over and over with those hands, and finally hold it firmly between those ridiculous little nubbins that are his thumbs, while he gnaws it. And then watch him comb his tail with his fingers, and wash his face with his hands, and catch your watch-chain when you dangle it in front of him. Only, you see, he always uses both hands at once. At least Little Mitchelldid, for the lady never saw him take anything in one hand alone. And he did not pick up things with his hands,—he picked up his nuts with his mouth, and then took them in his hands.Didn’t he crack any of his nuts himself? Oh yes, indeed, he cracked the almonds and beech-nuts, and such soft-shelled ones, as cleverly as you could have done it yourself. But when it came to hickory nuts and filberts, he wouldn’t even try to crack them; he would go and poke them into his lady’s hand for her to crack, or else he would hide them away.He knew perfectly well, when she got out the little hammer, that she was going to crack his nuts,—and a hard time she had not to crack his nose too, for he insisted upon poking it under the hammer, to see how the nuts were getting on, I suppose.Peanuts? Oh, he wouldn’t touch a peanut,—not if he were ever so hungry. He wouldn’t open one, and he wouldn’t eat it if the lady opened it for him. No,—he wouldn’t look at peanuts. But he would eat beech-nuts until you wondered where in the world he put them all. And pecan nuts he liked almost as well, only of course the lady had to crack them for him.He knew a good nut from a bad one, too, before opening it. You could be very sure that if he threw down a beech-nut or an almond without trying to open it, there was nothing fit to eat inside. How he knew, I cannot tell; but the rascal did know. I suppose it was some of that squirrel wisdom that kept coming to him as he grew older.He used to drink from a tumbler in those days; but he would not take it between his lips, as he used to take the spoon. He would stand up, holding onto the edge with his hands, and then drink, making a great noise while doing it. It was just the way children sometimes drink when they are naughty; but he was not naughty,—he didn’t know any better, and it was all so cunning his lady did not try to teach him.She made up her mind, though, that she would teach him a great many things, he was so gentle and affectionate and intelligent.But hewassomething of a nuisance about wasting her time. For one thing, she had to brush his coat every morning; and he would sit quite still to have his head and ears brushed. He would turn his head first one side, then the other, so that his ears could be brushed all around and back of them, inside and out. But as soon as his ears were washed, he thought that was enough, and that it was time for some fun; so he would catch holdof the brush and bite it, and kick at it with his hind feet like a kitten playing, and when the lady scolded him he would sit still for about a second, then he would snatch at the brush again, or maybe suddenly fly off from her knee and across the room. But she always brought him back, and made him stay until his fur was nicely brushed from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.The tail was the hardest to fix. How he would act when she got to his tail! Heknewit was time for some fun then, and he would jerk the brush out of his lady’s hand, and run away with it in his mouth, and when she caught him and took it away he would catch hold of his tail and begin to comb it very fast himself with his hands and his front teeth.Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page192)Did he ever get over crying when his mouth was wiped? Oh no, after every drink of water he screamed in the same naughty way if the lady wiped his mouth. He much preferred springing upon her and wiping it very hard on the front of her dress. I suppose he thought laces and ribbons were made for squirrels to wipe their faces on!But he did love his lady. He did not want to be away from her a moment. Sometimes, when he ran across the front of her waist to get to her shoulder, she would drop a little kiss on his furry coat as he passed. Then what would he do? Run on without noticing it? Oh no; he would stop for just the fraction of a second, and give one soft touch of his little velvety tongue to her cheek, and then race on again.Sometimes he would lick her hands like a little dog; and if she was busy, he couldn’tpossiblylet her alone. If she was writing, he would take holdof the pen and shake it, and bite at her fingers, and turn somersaults in her lap, and caper so she couldn’t do a thing but stop and play with him, as though he were a little monkey.He liked to have her tousle him about, as you do a kitten, upside down, and tickling his little white neck and chest with her fingers; and he would make believe bite, and really scratch just like a kitten. You see, his little claws were as sharp as any cat’s claws; and though he did not mean to hurt her at all, he scratched her hands all over until they were a sight to see. Then she had to stop playing that way, and instead she took a long lead-pencil, and he would bite at that and catch it in all four of his feet, and hang from it like a sloth, back down, and she would swing him back and forth, as though he were a hammock suspended from the ends ofthe pencil. He thought that was great fun, and so did the lady.As to sewing, she couldn’t do a bit of it if he was out of his cage, for he insisted upon helping, and caught hold of the thread and tangled it all up. It was such fun to see the lady’s hands go back and forth, that he would jump at them, and she was afraid that she would stick the needle into his nose or his eye. With the scissors it was even worse; she couldn’t so much as snip a thread without running the risk of clipping something off him,—one of his feet, or his nose, or the end of his tail. He seemed to be all over everything at once.Of course she could have shut him up in his cage, but she didn’t like to do that, it made him so unhappy. He would shake the cage door, and bite at it, and do everything he could think of to coax her to let him out.Of course he wasn’t bothering her every minute, though when he was not playing with her she had to keep sharp watch of him, for she never knew what he might do next, excepting when he was taking a sun-bath on the platform. For when the sun flooded the big windows, nice and warm, he would flatten himself out on the floor, and stretch first one leg, then another, and finally he would open his mouth and yawn, and show his four front teeth, two above and two below, that looked very long and sharp.For that is the way the squirrel-folk have their teeth,—two long, sharp ones in the front of the upper jaw, and two opposite them in the front of the lower jaw. These teeth are like little chisels, and it is with them they gnaw wood so easily. Not that they have only four teeth,—they have others, away back in the mouth, that looksomething like our back teeth, and are used for the same purpose—to chew the food.Well, when Little Mitchell went to take a sun-bath, the lady was glad, you may be sure; for then she knew he would be out of mischief for a little while. But it did not last long. He was soon up and off to see what he could do next.He had soon collected a number of things to play with. If the lady missed any little thing, she was always sure who had run away with it. His pet plaything at this time was a little white envelope that had had a visiting-card in it. He fished the envelope out of the scrap-basket and carried it about for a long time, and then hid it away under the corner of a sofa pillow. He was always hiding his things, and the lady was always finding them in the queerest places. He used to put nutsin her slippers, and one day he even tried to drop nuts down her back. She never knew what she would find in the sleeves of her dresses when she took them out of the closet.At last she collected all his playthings that she could find,—the little envelope, a big button, a hard cracker, a piece of cooky, a small pine-cone, three acorns, a worsted ball, and a butternut,—and put them in a little basket on the bureau. Very soon, you may be sure, Little Mitchell found them. The first thing his lady knew, he was sitting on the very corner of the bureau, with his cracker in his hands, nibbling it. Then he took a taste of the cooky; next he hauled out the little envelope, and had a joyous time hauling everything out of the basket.What do you think he did next?To the lady’s great astonishment, he put them all back again!He took the greatest fancy to the little basket; and ever after, when he took his things out of it, he put at least part of them back again. He seemed to think they were safely hidden there.He had such a hard time hiding things! All his extra nuts he wished to bury; for that is the way with the squirrel-folk, you know, and though Little Mitchell had never seen a squirrel bury anything, he could not get over wanting to do it. His favorite place, next to the folds of the lady’s dress, was the deer-skin that lay on the platform. It was a beautiful skin from his own mountains, where the deer still run wild.But the hair on a deer is short and stiff; so there was not much chance to hide anything in it. Yet how Little Mitchell did try! He would hold in his mouth the nut to be buried, while he dug very fast indeed with his hands,—that is, he went through the motions of digging, for of course he couldn’t dig a hole in the deer-skin.Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.” (Page197)When he had dug long enough, he would poke the nut down under the hair on the skin, and then pat it all down nicely on top. Only when he got through there was the nut in plain sight! Poor little chap! He would try again and again, and at last give the nut a good patting, and scamper off. He often succeeded in getting the nuts out of sight under the hair; and a funny skin it was to walk over then, all hubbly with hard nuts!Another trick was to hide the nuts all over his lady as she sat reading, and when she got up a perfect shower of nuts would rattle out upon the floor.You should have seen the little fellow play with a ball tied to a string!—across the room and back again,around and around he would chase it, just like a kitten. But he was ever so much quicker and funnier than a kitten, and prettier, too, with that bushy tail of his flirting and curving about.You see how it was,—he had nobody but his lady to play with, and he justhadto play; so he learned all sorts of funny little tricks that squirrels in the woods, who have each other to chase and who have to put away their winter stores, have no time for.Do you know how he learned to sit in the doll’s chair?The lady got a little wooden chair and table to give to a little girl; but before she gave them away she thought she would see if she couldn’t teach Little Mitchell to sit in the chair. So she let him get quite hungry one day; then she put him in the chair with one hand while she gave him a nice cracked nut with the other.He was so eager to eat his nut that he never moved! She drew the table up in front of him, with some nuts and a little red apple lying on it, and Little Mitchell sat there like a well-behaved child and ate his supper. He soon got used to it, and if he felt like it he would sit still in the tiny rocking-chair and eat his nuts; but sometimes he would jump up and tip over the chair, table, and everything else.He liked apples. He liked to have a whole one, so he could roll it around and play with it. You should have seen him try to hold it in his hands like a nut! When he found he couldn’t, he would crouch down close to it and gnaw a hole in the skin. But don’t imagine he would swallow the skin! He wouldn’t, not a bit! He flung it away, as he did the nut-shells, and ate the soft pulp inside.He did not often get a whole apple,because the lady did not like to have the bits of skin thrown about the floor. You see, he would go to work and peel half the apple before he took a bite. He seemed to do this for fun; but he never picked up the little pieces of skin he flung about.But much as he liked apples, he liked grapes better; and these he could hold in his hands. He looked very pretty, sitting up with his bushy tail showing above his head and a big yellow California grape in his hands.XLITTLE MITCHELL MAKES A MISTAKELittle Mitchelldid not allow anybody to touch him except his lady; and he would not eat for any one else. He would not even make friends with the other people in the house,—but that may be because he did not see enough of them.One day the lady heard no sound from him for a long time, and she began to look around for him; but Little Mitchell was gone! She looked all about the room,—no Little Mitchell. In his cage,—no Little Mitchell. In the closet, where the dresses hung,—no Mitchell. She shook the dresses to see if he had not gone to hide in them and fallen asleep,—no Little Mitchell.Then she called him,—not a sound. Finally she went out into the hall and looked for him, for the door was open,—but still no Little Mitchell.Then she went into the room of her next neighbor, who was a newspaper editor and not at home, but whose door was open; and there, in the middle of the floor, looking about him to see what to go at first, sat Little Mitchell!The rascal! As soon as the lady came he made a dive for the hall and scampered home; for she had told him he must not go near the open door, and had scolded him so often for doing it that he knew perfectly well he ought not to do it.Yes, indeed,—he knew when he was scolded, and scolding was usually enough; though once or twice the lady had spatted him,—not hard, you know, not hard at all; but it almostbroke his heart, he was such a sensitive little thing.The first time it happened he had done somethingverynaughty, and he knew it was naughty too. The lady caught him up and cuffed him ever so little; but she was dreadfully frightened when the little fellow stiffened out as though he were dead, and lay perfectly still for ever so long. But he never did the naughty thing again.The only other time he got slapped was when his lady’s friend put out her hand to touch him. He was sitting on his lady’s knee, and he deliberately reached out and bit the visitor’s finger. Yes, he really bit it so that a drop of blood came.Thatwasnaughty, and he knew it; and his lady slapped him a little, and said, “No, no, Mitchell!” very crossly, and he jumped away, his tail all fluffy, and ran as fast as he could and tuckedhis head up her sleeve as far as he could get it.Perhaps the reason why he went to the editor’s room was because that was where the singing came from, and he did enjoy hearing anybody sing! When the editor was at home, he used to sing a great deal; and Little Mitchell would climb up on the screen which stood in front of the open door, and lean his head away down, and cock his ear to listen, and there he would stay as still as a mouse as long as the editor sang or whistled.One day he really went visiting. His lady took him to a friend’s house one night just as they were finishing dinner, and she was invited to have some of the ice-cream.She had Little Mitchell buttoned up under her jacket; but as soon as the ice-cream came along he put in an appearance and wanted his share, whichhe ate very nicely out of a spoon, to the amusement of all who saw him.After dinner, when they were all together in the sitting-room, one of the young men—who was a Harvard student, and knew more about many other things than he did about squirrels—said Little Mitchell did not really know the lady, but would just as soon go to anybody else if he were left alone.So all the family—eight or nine, counting the visitors—formed a circle, and the lady set Little Mitchell down in the middle, and then quickly stepped back behind him to a new place in the circle.Little Mitchell’s bushy tail jerked nervously for a minute, and his bright eyes looked wildly from one strange face to another; then he gave a leap and landed at his lady’s feet, and in another second was up on her shoulder.After that, no one denied that he knew his lady, and liked her best of all.He had to take an airing once in a while, and the way he went was to ride in his own private carriage,—which was nothing less than the inside of his lady’s jacket. She would button it all but the two top buttons, and tuck him in, and away they would go for a walk or a romp together.Little Mitchell thought this great fun, and usually gave no trouble. Sometimes they walked along the street, when Little Mitchell would pop his head out and look about, but if anybody came along he would pop it back again.Sometimes they went to the Public Garden; and here he had many adventures. One day his lady thought she would let him climb a tree. So she chose a little one, put him on oneof the lower limbs, and then stepped back. Little Mitchell looked about, but did not climb; he took two or three steps, then I suppose he decided it was an awful thing to be left there alone on a wild little tree in a wild park that stood in a wild world that he knew nothing about; so he gave one tremendous jump and landed on his lady’s shoulder, and scurried down into his safe hiding-place under her jacket, and peeped out at the terrible tree and the strange world he was so afraid of.Then she put him on the grass, and went on; but Little Mitchell went on too, and in less time than it takes to tell he had caught her and come flying up again to his safe place in her jacket.Sometimes he would come out and sit in her hand; but it seemed a very dangerous world to a squirrel who hadnever been out of doors,—and so it was, for did not a little girl come up to look at him one day and suddenly grab him in both hands? But how quick she let go! He squealed his loudest, and squirmed like an eel, and no doubt would have bitten her, only she was so frightened that she dropped him on the grass. The lady quickly stooped down with her hand out, and he sprang upon it and ran up her arm and hid in her jacket. No little girls for him!He liked to have the lady go to a lonely part of the Public Garden, and sit on a bench, and let him sit beside her with a nice pecan nut that had been cracked a little so that he could open it by working at it awhile.You see, he did not crack his own nuts, because he did not know how. It must be that mother squirrels start the nuts for their young ones; butLittle Mitchell’s lady did not know that, only she saw nuts that the squirrels had gnawed, and there were two little holes in the sides opposite each other. But Little Mitchell did not gnaw the sides of the nut,—he always tried to gnaw the end; and you know it would take him forever to get at the meat that way. So finally the lady started his nuts with a penknife in the right place, and Little Mitchell would try very hard to finish opening them; but he liked much better to have his nuts cracked with a hammer, so that he could peel off pieces of the shell.No doubt he would soon have learned to open his nuts himself, and do it very well, only something happened that made this impossible. It is strange he did not know how, he knew so many other things the squirrel folk know, but that they had nevertaught him. You remember he knew how to clean himself and wash his face in the funny squirrel way. And he knew how to talk squirrel talk. He had several sounds that meant different things.The funniest talking he ever did was when he saw the dog in the backyard. It was away down below him, and not in his yard either, but in another yard over the fence. It is strange he should have noticed the dog so far off; but he had good eyes, had Little Mitchell,—and the way he screamed and scolded when he saw the dog! You never heard anything like it,—unless you have been scolded by a gray squirrel out in the woods sometime!He was sitting looking out of the big window, when the little dog ran across the yard. Up went Little Mitchell’s hands across his breast, inthe most comical manner, as though he were pressing them over his fast-beating heart. Then he stretched his neck, and opened his mouth wide, and screamed at the dog. The way he screamed when his mouth was wiped was nothing to this. How he did go on!—just as the gray squirrels in the woods do when they are very much excited; and he had never heard a squirrel do it in all his life.There were gray squirrels on Boston Common, where Little Mitchell sometimes went to walk with the lady; but he did not take the slightest interest in them.There are more squirrels on the Common sometimes than others. The winter Little Mitchell was in Boston there were several of them living on the Common, and they had nests in some of the trees. Yes, they built nests that looked like big clumsybird’s-nests, and they went into them to sleep and to keep warm.One cold winter day, when Little Mitchell’s lady was crossing the Common early in the morning, and Little Mitchell was not with her, a big gray squirrel ran up to her and asked for a nut. Of course he could not ask in people’s talk, but he asked very plainly in squirrel talk,—in their sign language. He made no sound, but signed for nuts in the prettiest way, running close up to her, flatting out a little toward the ground, and looking up into her face as Little Mitchell looked when he was coaxing for something. The lady had no nuts with her; but she brought some when she came that way again. Then she found somebody else had given him nuts, and he was sitting on the ground eating them. Of course this squirrel did not pass the winter in a nest in the branches of a tree. Oh,no, he had a nice warm hiding-place inside a big tree that had a hole in the crotch so that he could get in.Once there were a great many squirrels on the Common, but one day there were none. They had all gone off. What had become of them? everybody was asking. The policeman knew, for he saw them go. It was very early in the morning, and they went all together, single file, across Cambridge bridge. They were on the bridge railing, one old fellow leading the way. Perhaps there were getting to be too many of them to be comfortable on the Common. Perhaps they were tired of city life. Anyway, the policeman saw them go, and that was the end of the squirrels on the Common for some time. At least, so I was told.A good many city parks have gray squirrels in them, but where else are they so tame as in the park atRichmond, Virginia? Little Mitchell’s lady was there one day, before she had found Little Mitchell, and the squirrels were so tame they came right up and ate out of her hand; and when she stooped down to speak to one, another little fellow raced right up her back,—which rather startled her, because she was not used to squirrels then.Well, Little Mitchell grew fast, and promised to become a very large and handsome squirrel, when he made a dreadful mistake one day and licked the heads of the matches. He got into the match-box somehow,—he was always opening boxes to see what was in them,—and he liked the taste of the matches, never suspecting what sad results would follow.The lady looked about at last to see what he was up to,—for if he was quiet more than a minute at a timeit meant mischief. How she jumped when she saw what he was doing! But it was too late, and little Mitchell tumbled over then and there, and the lady thought he was dead; but he was not.He appeared to get over it and be perfectly well again; and the lady—who did not know as much about phosphorus poisoning then as she was soon to learn—thought nothing was to come of it. You see, phosphorus is the stuff on the ends of matches that makes them light; and it is poison,—and a mean, horrible poison too.Little Mitchell played about as usual for a few days, rolling like a ball on the platform, racing over the screen, and tormenting the lady when she wanted to work. Then one morning he was frightfully sick and he stayed sick all day. He sat hunched up onthe couch, making queer, mournful little noises, and eating nothing.He could not even bear the gentle touch of the lady’s hand, and screamed if she came near him, he was so afraid she would touch him. So she left him to himself, and went to the doctor and asked about it, and the doctor told her what to do. There was not very much she could do then, but keep him warm and wait.For two or three days Little Mitchell was a very sick squirrel; but then he began to get better again, and soon was running about almost as well as ever,—but not quite. He seemed weak, and could not use his hind legs as well as usual. But he was still very cunning and lively, and as affectionate as ever.While he was sick, the lady let him sleep under the corner of her travelling rug instead of in his cage; andwhen he got better he still wanted to sleep in the rug. He would creep in to take a nap in the daytime, and at night he teased so to stay that the lady yielded at last, and fixed him a bed on the floor, at the head of her own couch. She doubled a towel in between two folds of the rug, for sheets, as it were; but Little Mitchell did not like the towel, and would creep in on top of it or under it. Then it was pinned down so he had to go into it; and at last he got used to it, and always went in right, whether it was pinned or not.After a few days the lady woke up one night and thought she heard him making queer noises. She got a light, and, sure enough, there he was, as sick as ever. But he got over it again, and went on for a long time about as usual, though his hind legs seemed weaker than before. He could scarcely climb to the top of his screen, and never racedover it and hung by his toes, as he had liked to do.He had to take medicine; but he would not touch his drinking water if the medicine was put in that, so the lady got it in the form of little sugar pills. He was very fond of sugar, you know, though he was not allowed to eat much candy; and he liked those little pills, and was always ready to eat one whenever it was given him.He liked his flaxseeds, too, at first, and would crunch them up, one at a time, between his sharp little teeth; but he soon got tired of them, and would not eat them unless the lady made him. The way she managed was to pour some of the seeds in the palm of her hand, and give them to him early in the morning. If he would not eat them, she waited, and after a while offered them again; and not a bit of breakfast would he get until he hadeaten his flaxseeds. He soon learned that he must eat them, and it was funny to see him try to get rid of them by pawing them out of the lady’s hand. He would paw them all out into her lap; but she would gather them up again, when he would stick in his nose very hard, so as to spatter half of them out. He would munch two or three, looking at her out of his bright eyes; then he would nose around in them again, until he had spilled them all out into her lap. But again she would gather them up, and so they would keep on until he had eaten what was necessary for him.

VIILITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST CAR-RIDEYoucan see three thunder-storms at once from Blowing Rock.Perhaps sometimes you can see more than that number.This is because Blowing Rock is on the edge of a mountain, where you can look off and off and off,—oh, so far, over a sea of mountains, where the storms gather. You know a thunder-storm is not very big; it is only as big as two or three clouds close together, and these clouds may be rather small.It is queer to see the rain pouring down in long straight lines over one part of the mountains, while all the rest is in sunshine.Little Mitchell’s lady used to like to watch the thunder-storms, but Little Mitchell did not care anything about them. He preferred going with the lady to the big rock from which the little village of Blowing Rock gets its name. The Indians named it long ago, because when the wind is in the right quarter it blows so hard you cannot throw anything over the rock. If you try to throw your handkerchief or your hat over, you cannot do it, because the wind flings it back to you. Sometimes it blows so strong you couldn’t even jump over,—so people say. But I should not like to try that, no matter how hard the wind blew; it is such a very long way down to the tree-tops at the foot of the rock!What Little Mitchell liked at the big rock was the sunshine and the fine places to run about; but he never ran far from his lady, and at theslightest noise he would scurry back to her.There were some dear little children at Blowing Rock; but you know how Mitchell felt on that subject! He would have nothing to do with them, and if one of them took him up he would squirm and squeal so that he was quickly dropped.It was at Blowing Rock that he found out he could hop.His lady used to let him out of his box early in the morning, so that he could run around the room and exercise his muscles. She was afraid to take him outside with her unless she went a long way off, on account of the cats.So he would frolic with her, and jump at her hand under the bed-covers in the early morning, and when she got up he would play about the room, run over the table, look at everythingon the bureau, including his own funny little face in the looking-glass; and one day he found out he could hop.He went hop, hop, hop, just like a grown-up squirrel, the whole length of the room.Hop, hop went Little Mitchell. He had always crawled or crept about before this; but that day he went hop, hop, hop, all up and down the room, and then up and down again.When the lady was ready to go out, she thought she would put him in his box. He had never given her any trouble before, but this time he scampered under the bed, away over against the wall out of reach, and there he went hop, hop, hop, up and down, up and down; but he never came out from under the bed, because he did not want the lady to catch him.Little Mitchell and his Wheel“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.” (Page170)He looked so funny, hopping up and down, and he was having such a glorious time, that his lady did not like to end it, and waited ever so long; but as he kept on hopping, and showed no sign of ever going to stop, she finally got under the bed and captured him.You see he had found something new to do, and he was as excited over it as a child is over a new and delightful game. When the lady put him in his box, he squirmed and screamed; and when she fastened the cover down, he cried and scratched to get out. It was too bad,—but what else could the lady do? She did not want to stay shut up in her room all day, and she dared not leave him alone for fear some one might open the door and a cat get in.But he was really tired by this time; and when he found that crying and scratching did no good, he curled up and went to sleep. When the ladypeeped into the room before going off, he was as quiet as a mouse; and when she returned, he was still sound asleep in his little box.Now about hopping,—that is the way grown squirrels get over the ground, in little jumps; and Baby Mitchell was growing every day, not only in size but in squirrel habits. How do you suppose he knew about hopping, when he had never seen a squirrel hop? And how do you suppose he knew about sitting up and holding his nuts in his hands, when he had never seen a squirrel do these things? And how do you suppose he knew about washing his face after the funny manner of the squirrel folk, when he had never seen another squirrel do it?I cannot tell you how he knew all these things; but he did know them, and as he grew older, more and moresquirrel habits came to him, as you shall see.The lady stayed at Blowing Rock only a few days; then one morning she and Little Mitchell started off down the long winding road in a carriage,—and this was the end of their life in the mountains.At the end of that drive they got onto a railway train, and went a little way, and then changed to another train,—only they had to wait a long time between trains.Little Mitchell’s lady was very sorry for him now, because you see he was getting big enough to run about, and he had to take this long journey all shut up in his little box.But when they got to the station where they had to wait so long, she opened his box, and out he came. He ran all over her as fast as he could go, even jumping from her shoulder to thetop of her head, and played with her hair, which she told him was naughty. Then he jumped down and ran all around the tops of the benches, for there was nobody else in the waiting-room.After a while a gentleman came in to wait for the train too, and he fell quite in love with the playful little fellow, and wanted to buy him to take home to his children; but of course the lady would not sell him.At last the train came, and they got on and rode awhile, and then got off again to wait for another train. This was in a large station, full of people and lighted by electric lights.Little Mitchell’s lady saw his box bumping about, and heard something inside go scratch, scratch, scratch. So she took off the cover, and out came Little Mitchell. He was very tired from being shut up so long and carried so fast in the jolty train, and he wantedto come out and see what was going on. The electric lights and the crowd and the strange sights and sounds all excited him. His eyes shone, and he was not satisfied to sit on his lady’s shoulder and look about. He wanted to leap upon the back of a lady who was dressed in laces and furs. He was determined to do it, too; but every time his lady caught him just as he was about to spring, and told him he mustn’t.How surprised the strange lady would have been if he had done it! And how frightened Little Mitchell would have been! For, once there, he would not have known what to do, and would have wished himself back on his own lady’s shoulder.At last she went into a dark corner with him, and let him sit on the seat by her and look at the people while he ate a piece of sugar cooky.Then the train came, and they got into the sleeping-car,—Little Mitchell in his little box, of course.He was a good squirrel all night, and early in the morning the lady let him look out of the window; but he did not like that,—it frightened him to see things rushing by so fast. He preferred to race up and down in the berth, and jump at the lady’s fingers from under the edge of the blanket, and turn somersaults when she made believe catch him.After a little while he got tired of this play, and was quite willing to be put into his box, where he stayed quietly until they got to Jersey City, and crossed the ferry, and went to the Grand Central Station in New York City, and got upon another train that soon left the noisy city behind.The noise and motion of the train seemed to tire and confuse the littlefellow, so that he was glad to stay hidden away in his own box, which was now the only thing that really seemed like home to him,—for even the lady had changed her skin, or at least she had put on strange clothes, which must have seemed to him just like changing her skin.When they left New York on the train for Hartford,—which is where they were going next,—Little Mitchell was let out of his box to sit on the seat by the lady’s side and eat his dinner of roasted chestnuts and cooky. They still had some of the big, sweet Grandmother chestnuts, which they had brought with them, and which had all been nicely roasted, though Little Mitchell was beginning to enjoy a bit of raw chestnut by this time. Still, he preferred the roasted ones, and was able to pick them out from a handful of both kinds.When he had finished his chestnut, he climbed up on the back of the seat, and looked at an old lady, who fell in love with him on the spot, and wanted ever so much to hold him in her hand; but do you think he would allow it? Not he. He jumped up on his own lady’s shoulder, and then sprang down into her lap and hid in the folds of her dress.He was still such a baby, you see!It is not a very long ride from New York to Hartford, as you know; and when they got off the train it was almost dark, and there was a friend waiting for them, and soon they were driving along over nice smooth streets that did not jolt them at all. Then they came to a driveway under big trees, and to a house with the windows all lighted up; and here they got out of the carriage, and some more friends came to the door to meet them. They were in Hartford at last.

LITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST CAR-RIDE

Youcan see three thunder-storms at once from Blowing Rock.

Perhaps sometimes you can see more than that number.

This is because Blowing Rock is on the edge of a mountain, where you can look off and off and off,—oh, so far, over a sea of mountains, where the storms gather. You know a thunder-storm is not very big; it is only as big as two or three clouds close together, and these clouds may be rather small.

It is queer to see the rain pouring down in long straight lines over one part of the mountains, while all the rest is in sunshine.

Little Mitchell’s lady used to like to watch the thunder-storms, but Little Mitchell did not care anything about them. He preferred going with the lady to the big rock from which the little village of Blowing Rock gets its name. The Indians named it long ago, because when the wind is in the right quarter it blows so hard you cannot throw anything over the rock. If you try to throw your handkerchief or your hat over, you cannot do it, because the wind flings it back to you. Sometimes it blows so strong you couldn’t even jump over,—so people say. But I should not like to try that, no matter how hard the wind blew; it is such a very long way down to the tree-tops at the foot of the rock!

What Little Mitchell liked at the big rock was the sunshine and the fine places to run about; but he never ran far from his lady, and at theslightest noise he would scurry back to her.

There were some dear little children at Blowing Rock; but you know how Mitchell felt on that subject! He would have nothing to do with them, and if one of them took him up he would squirm and squeal so that he was quickly dropped.

It was at Blowing Rock that he found out he could hop.

His lady used to let him out of his box early in the morning, so that he could run around the room and exercise his muscles. She was afraid to take him outside with her unless she went a long way off, on account of the cats.

So he would frolic with her, and jump at her hand under the bed-covers in the early morning, and when she got up he would play about the room, run over the table, look at everythingon the bureau, including his own funny little face in the looking-glass; and one day he found out he could hop.

He went hop, hop, hop, just like a grown-up squirrel, the whole length of the room.

Hop, hop went Little Mitchell. He had always crawled or crept about before this; but that day he went hop, hop, hop, all up and down the room, and then up and down again.

When the lady was ready to go out, she thought she would put him in his box. He had never given her any trouble before, but this time he scampered under the bed, away over against the wall out of reach, and there he went hop, hop, hop, up and down, up and down; but he never came out from under the bed, because he did not want the lady to catch him.

Little Mitchell and his Wheel“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.” (Page170)

Little Mitchell and his Wheel“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.” (Page170)

Little Mitchell and his Wheel

“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.” (Page170)

He looked so funny, hopping up and down, and he was having such a glorious time, that his lady did not like to end it, and waited ever so long; but as he kept on hopping, and showed no sign of ever going to stop, she finally got under the bed and captured him.

You see he had found something new to do, and he was as excited over it as a child is over a new and delightful game. When the lady put him in his box, he squirmed and screamed; and when she fastened the cover down, he cried and scratched to get out. It was too bad,—but what else could the lady do? She did not want to stay shut up in her room all day, and she dared not leave him alone for fear some one might open the door and a cat get in.

But he was really tired by this time; and when he found that crying and scratching did no good, he curled up and went to sleep. When the ladypeeped into the room before going off, he was as quiet as a mouse; and when she returned, he was still sound asleep in his little box.

Now about hopping,—that is the way grown squirrels get over the ground, in little jumps; and Baby Mitchell was growing every day, not only in size but in squirrel habits. How do you suppose he knew about hopping, when he had never seen a squirrel hop? And how do you suppose he knew about sitting up and holding his nuts in his hands, when he had never seen a squirrel do these things? And how do you suppose he knew about washing his face after the funny manner of the squirrel folk, when he had never seen another squirrel do it?

I cannot tell you how he knew all these things; but he did know them, and as he grew older, more and moresquirrel habits came to him, as you shall see.

The lady stayed at Blowing Rock only a few days; then one morning she and Little Mitchell started off down the long winding road in a carriage,—and this was the end of their life in the mountains.

At the end of that drive they got onto a railway train, and went a little way, and then changed to another train,—only they had to wait a long time between trains.

Little Mitchell’s lady was very sorry for him now, because you see he was getting big enough to run about, and he had to take this long journey all shut up in his little box.

But when they got to the station where they had to wait so long, she opened his box, and out he came. He ran all over her as fast as he could go, even jumping from her shoulder to thetop of her head, and played with her hair, which she told him was naughty. Then he jumped down and ran all around the tops of the benches, for there was nobody else in the waiting-room.

After a while a gentleman came in to wait for the train too, and he fell quite in love with the playful little fellow, and wanted to buy him to take home to his children; but of course the lady would not sell him.

At last the train came, and they got on and rode awhile, and then got off again to wait for another train. This was in a large station, full of people and lighted by electric lights.

Little Mitchell’s lady saw his box bumping about, and heard something inside go scratch, scratch, scratch. So she took off the cover, and out came Little Mitchell. He was very tired from being shut up so long and carried so fast in the jolty train, and he wantedto come out and see what was going on. The electric lights and the crowd and the strange sights and sounds all excited him. His eyes shone, and he was not satisfied to sit on his lady’s shoulder and look about. He wanted to leap upon the back of a lady who was dressed in laces and furs. He was determined to do it, too; but every time his lady caught him just as he was about to spring, and told him he mustn’t.

How surprised the strange lady would have been if he had done it! And how frightened Little Mitchell would have been! For, once there, he would not have known what to do, and would have wished himself back on his own lady’s shoulder.

At last she went into a dark corner with him, and let him sit on the seat by her and look at the people while he ate a piece of sugar cooky.

Then the train came, and they got into the sleeping-car,—Little Mitchell in his little box, of course.

He was a good squirrel all night, and early in the morning the lady let him look out of the window; but he did not like that,—it frightened him to see things rushing by so fast. He preferred to race up and down in the berth, and jump at the lady’s fingers from under the edge of the blanket, and turn somersaults when she made believe catch him.

After a little while he got tired of this play, and was quite willing to be put into his box, where he stayed quietly until they got to Jersey City, and crossed the ferry, and went to the Grand Central Station in New York City, and got upon another train that soon left the noisy city behind.

The noise and motion of the train seemed to tire and confuse the littlefellow, so that he was glad to stay hidden away in his own box, which was now the only thing that really seemed like home to him,—for even the lady had changed her skin, or at least she had put on strange clothes, which must have seemed to him just like changing her skin.

When they left New York on the train for Hartford,—which is where they were going next,—Little Mitchell was let out of his box to sit on the seat by the lady’s side and eat his dinner of roasted chestnuts and cooky. They still had some of the big, sweet Grandmother chestnuts, which they had brought with them, and which had all been nicely roasted, though Little Mitchell was beginning to enjoy a bit of raw chestnut by this time. Still, he preferred the roasted ones, and was able to pick them out from a handful of both kinds.

When he had finished his chestnut, he climbed up on the back of the seat, and looked at an old lady, who fell in love with him on the spot, and wanted ever so much to hold him in her hand; but do you think he would allow it? Not he. He jumped up on his own lady’s shoulder, and then sprang down into her lap and hid in the folds of her dress.

He was still such a baby, you see!

It is not a very long ride from New York to Hartford, as you know; and when they got off the train it was almost dark, and there was a friend waiting for them, and soon they were driving along over nice smooth streets that did not jolt them at all. Then they came to a driveway under big trees, and to a house with the windows all lighted up; and here they got out of the carriage, and some more friends came to the door to meet them. They were in Hartford at last.

VIIILITTLE MITCHELL GOES TO BOSTONNodoubt Little Mitchell was glad enough to go to sleep that night in a box that stayed still instead of waggling about as it had done for so long a time on the train.It was a very hot night, although rather late in the season for such warm weather in Hartford. It was so warm that the lady did not like to shut Little Mitchell up in his box, even though it had so many holes in it. So she left the cover off, and just before going to bed she looked in to see how he was getting along.Well, there he lay, on his back, with his head resting on the edge of the box and his arms up over his head, forall the world like a hot, tired, human little baby.He looked so cunning that the lady called some of her friends to see him; but by that time the light had waked him up, and he stretched and yawned and curled up after the usual fashion of squirrels when they go to sleep.He was up bright and early next morning, racing about the room, playing hide-and-seek with the lady under the bed-clothes, and having a grand time.The lady’s friend thought his little box too close and small for him, and gave him a nice large basket; but he did not like to sleep in that at all, and cried and scratched so when he was put in to take a nap that the lady let him out. And then what do you think he did?Why, he ran straight to his ownlittle box and crept in and curled up and went to sleep there.But first he made a visit into the big world. He went into the sitting-room, where there were ever so many tables and chairs for him to examine, and, best of all, a wide couch with many big soft pillows on it; and behind these pillows he would hide, and jump out at anybody’s fingers that came that way,—for all the world like a playful kitten.He had a fine time playing with the lady’s friends behind the pillows; and finally he climbed up the nice soft coat which her friend the gentleman who lived there had on, and got into his coat-pocket, and would not come out. It was cosey and dark there, and he liked it; and when anybody put in a hand to take him out, he would scream and nip at their fingers.Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.” (Page174)And this, my dears, was not playing at all,—it was real genuine naughtiness; for when he played he was careful never really to nip anybody,—he only made believe, you know.Well, the gentleman who lived there let him stay in his pocket until he was ready to go down town; then he called the lady, and she put in her hand, and Little Mitchell jumped at it and growled, but when he found whose hand it was he did not nip at all,—he would no more hurt his lady than he would hurt himself, no matter how naughty he felt.Well, the lady wanted to go away for a little while; so she put him into his box,—which was not an easy matter, for as fast as she got him in one side he squirmed out at the other, and screamed, and was very naughty indeed.Finally she got him in, and fastened the cover; but he acted so that shefinally took him out and fastened him into the basket.When she got back, what do you think? Little Mitchell was not in the basket! He had gnawed a naughty great hole right through the pretty new basket, and had got out and was hiding in the closet in the folds of a dress that was hanging there.The next time he was missing, somebody found him among the papers in the bottom of a scrap-basket, where he sat, jumping at any strange fingers that came his way, and nipping them, and growling like a bad little bear, until his lady came and fished him out, screaming and squirming, but not nipping.Why do you suppose the gentle, timid little Baby Mitchell had all at once become such a naughty, self-willed squirrel?WhatshallI do with him? thoughtthe lady. She was afraid he would gnaw her friend’s furniture, and do all sorts of mischievous things; so whenever she was not there to take care of him, she had to keep him shut up in his little box, which was fast getting to be too small for him.One morning, as he sat on the window-sill eating a nut, he had a visit.Along came a big reddish yellowish squirrel, as large as a full-grown gray one, but all fluffy,—a very handsome, afraid-of-nobody sort of fellow, who sat on the window-sill on the other side of the wire screen, and looked in at Little Mitchell.How do you suppose Little Mitchell received this pretty visitor? He just dropped his nut with a squeal, and scampered off as if the old cat were after him, and went and hid in the corner under the table.You wouldn’t consider that very good manners, would you? But then, you see, he was really only a baby, and had not yet learned how to behave.There were a great many squirrels about the lady’s friend’s place. The grounds were large, with fine big trees and wide lawns,—just the kind of place squirrels like, for nobody can shoot them there, and they know it.So all about were squirrels,—little red fellows, and big gray fellows, and once in a while a big, tawny fluffy fellow such as came to visit Little Mitchell. Well, these squirrels played a great deal, scampering about the lawn and racing over the branches of the trees, which made bridges for them high up in the air. And oh, how they would jump! It was enough to make one dizzy to look at them.But when the chestnuts that grewon the big trees back of the house were ripe, then was the time of joy for all these squirrels.They had their own trouble in getting their share of the nuts,—what with the boys and all the other people who wanted them,—but you may be sure the squirrels got more than anybody else.There were so many squirrels hunting for nuts!—and I am sorry to say they were not all as honest as they might have been.The little red squirrels were the quickest, and got the most nuts; but they didn’t keep the most, because there were those rascally gray squirrels, which were nimble-witted if they were not nimble-footed.You know what the squirrels do with their nuts. They hide them. If they do not find a good place in a hollow tree or somewhere, then theyjust dig a little hole and bury the nut in the ground.One day Little Mitchell’s lady was sitting by a window that looked out on the lawn at the back of the house, and this is what she saw.Along came a little red squirrel with a nut in his mouth. He dug a hole in the ground with his little paws, very fast indeed. Then he tucked the nut in, covered it up, and patted the dirt and grass all down nice and smooth over it.This done, he scampered off and got another nut and buried it in the same way, and then another and another, until he had planted quite a space with his nuts. Then off he went, and I am sure you could not have found one of those nuts, he had hidden them so cleverly, patting the earth and grass down over them, so that the places where they were did not show at all.But if you could not have found them, there was somebody else who could.The little red squirrel had no sooner hidden his last nut and gone off, than along came a big gray squirrel. Hop, hop, he came, his nose to the ground. Then he stopped, and began to dig very fast with his hands, and—pop!—out came one of the nuts the little red squirrel had so carefully hidden!Then the big gray mischief bounded off to the other side of the lawn, wherehedug a hole and buried that nut! His hole was deeper,—very likely too deep for the little red fellow to get his nut again, though I am not sure about that. But, anyway, the gray squirrel dug up all the poor little red fellow’s nuts, and went off and hid them, one by one, somewhere else.The lady sat at the window and watched this mischief. Then the graysquirrel sprang up a tree and went tearing across the grove chattering like mad.No, not because he felt so proud of what he had done, but because a blue-jay was after him.There were blue-jays in the grove, too, and they were always tormenting the squirrels, chasing them and screaming at them as though they meant to do all sorts of things to them.Little Mitchell did not see these things going on among his kinsfolk, because he would have nothing to do with any other squirrels. He would not even look at them; and if one came near the window where he was, he always scampered off and hid.One day the lady took Little Mitchell down town with her. He was in his little box, you know, because she could not quite trust him to go without it. She was afraid he wouldjump on somebody’s back, or do something dreadful on the electric car; so she shut him up in his box, and took him along.You couldn’t guess where they went!It was to the photographer’s, to see if he could take Little Mitchell’s picture. The man said he would try.They put Little Mitchell up on a stand; but he wouldn’t stay. They did everything they could think of, but it was of no use,—he wouldn’t keep still one second.At last the lady sat down, and tried to coax him to sit still with her; but he wouldn’t do that, either. He jumped up on her shoulder, and cocked his tail up over his head,—it was quite a tail by this time,—and peeped out at the photographer, and at the queer box with a glass eye that kept pointing at him. The photographer snapped, the way they do when theytake a picture; but Little Mitchell was too quick for him, and gave his tail a flirt that spoiled the picture.Then the photographer got all ready again; but this time, just as he was about to take the picture, Little Mitchell jumped up on his lady’s head,—and that, of course, wouldn’t do.So they got all ready again, with Little Mitchell sitting on his lady’s knee; but again he flirted off, just in time to spoil the picture.Then he climbed up on his lady’s arm, and the photographer whistled, and Little Mitchell cocked up his tail and his ears,—just as you see him in the picture,—and listened, and in a trice the man had pressed the bulb and the restless Little Mitchell had his picture taken after all. Whether it was a success or not, you can decide for yourself; for it is the frontispiece to this very book.When the lady was ready to go, she could not find Little Mitchell. That is because he was in the photographer’s pocket. He had climbed in there to hide away after the excitement of having his picture taken; and at last the photographer laughed, for he knew the little rascal was there all the time, and hauled him out, squirming and protesting, and handed him to the lady.In a few days she was ready to go on to Boston; and she said she would be glad to get there, so as to have a suitable place for Little Mitchell, where he would not have to be shut up so much and yet could not get into mischief.So they said good-bye to the Hartford friends, and started for Boston, Little Mitchell in his little box, which he did not like at all.They had their lunch on the train, and Little Mitchell’s lunch was chestnuts and chinkapins, which he atesitting in the corner of the seat next the window. But his lady had some very dainty sandwiches, made of thin slices of bread and butter with cream cheese between.Presently Little Mitchell smelled the lady’s lunch, and it smelled better than his own; so he threw down his nut and ran up on her arm and tried to take her sandwich away from her.She said no, for she feared it might not agree with him; but he said yes, he would have some, and he snatched and got a crumb which he crowded into his mouth.The lady set him down on the seat and gave him his nut; but he threw it down, and again snatched at her sandwich. He nearly got it all this time, but the lady caught it away just in time. Then he began to scream and struggle and fight for the sandwich, until the people in the car began tolaugh, and then the lady gave him a little piece, and he sat up very straight, eating cheese sandwich and looking as solemn as an owl.When they neared Boston, there was a struggle to get him into his box; for he had decided he wouldn’t go. But this time he had to; and the minute they got off the train the lady drove to a bird-store and got a big wire squirrel-cage to take home with her.As soon as she was in her own room, she let Little Mitchell out. Such a relief as it was to get him safely there! And such a time as he had getting acquainted with his new home! He went all about the room,—over the couch, on the table, all through the bookcase, and even into the closet where the lady hung her dresses.Little Mitchell Plays with a String“Across the room and back again he would chase it.” (Page190)Then he helped her to unpack her trunk and put everything away. Of course the way he helped was to get under her feet or her hands and be in the way all the time as much as possible.Then the lady put him in the big new cage, and shut the door. He walked all around it, and then got into the wheel. You know the wire wheel that is always in a squirrel-cage? As soon as he moved, of course the wheel began to turn, and he began to run. The faster he ran the faster it turned, until he fairly flew.At last his legs ached so he could run no more, and he stopped, and then the wonderful wheel stopped too; but as soon as he took a step, it turned again. Finally he jumped out; but in a few minutes he went back and tried it again. He thought it was splendid fun; and so all in a minute, without any teaching, Little Mitchell learned how to use his play-wheel.The lady stood close by the cage and watched him, for she feared he might be frightened by it, and if he had seemed at all troubled she was ready to put in her hand and stop the wheel until he gradually learned how to use it.

LITTLE MITCHELL GOES TO BOSTON

Nodoubt Little Mitchell was glad enough to go to sleep that night in a box that stayed still instead of waggling about as it had done for so long a time on the train.

It was a very hot night, although rather late in the season for such warm weather in Hartford. It was so warm that the lady did not like to shut Little Mitchell up in his box, even though it had so many holes in it. So she left the cover off, and just before going to bed she looked in to see how he was getting along.

Well, there he lay, on his back, with his head resting on the edge of the box and his arms up over his head, forall the world like a hot, tired, human little baby.

He looked so cunning that the lady called some of her friends to see him; but by that time the light had waked him up, and he stretched and yawned and curled up after the usual fashion of squirrels when they go to sleep.

He was up bright and early next morning, racing about the room, playing hide-and-seek with the lady under the bed-clothes, and having a grand time.

The lady’s friend thought his little box too close and small for him, and gave him a nice large basket; but he did not like to sleep in that at all, and cried and scratched so when he was put in to take a nap that the lady let him out. And then what do you think he did?

Why, he ran straight to his ownlittle box and crept in and curled up and went to sleep there.

But first he made a visit into the big world. He went into the sitting-room, where there were ever so many tables and chairs for him to examine, and, best of all, a wide couch with many big soft pillows on it; and behind these pillows he would hide, and jump out at anybody’s fingers that came that way,—for all the world like a playful kitten.

He had a fine time playing with the lady’s friends behind the pillows; and finally he climbed up the nice soft coat which her friend the gentleman who lived there had on, and got into his coat-pocket, and would not come out. It was cosey and dark there, and he liked it; and when anybody put in a hand to take him out, he would scream and nip at their fingers.

Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.” (Page174)

Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.” (Page174)

Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail

“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.” (Page174)

And this, my dears, was not playing at all,—it was real genuine naughtiness; for when he played he was careful never really to nip anybody,—he only made believe, you know.

Well, the gentleman who lived there let him stay in his pocket until he was ready to go down town; then he called the lady, and she put in her hand, and Little Mitchell jumped at it and growled, but when he found whose hand it was he did not nip at all,—he would no more hurt his lady than he would hurt himself, no matter how naughty he felt.

Well, the lady wanted to go away for a little while; so she put him into his box,—which was not an easy matter, for as fast as she got him in one side he squirmed out at the other, and screamed, and was very naughty indeed.

Finally she got him in, and fastened the cover; but he acted so that shefinally took him out and fastened him into the basket.

When she got back, what do you think? Little Mitchell was not in the basket! He had gnawed a naughty great hole right through the pretty new basket, and had got out and was hiding in the closet in the folds of a dress that was hanging there.

The next time he was missing, somebody found him among the papers in the bottom of a scrap-basket, where he sat, jumping at any strange fingers that came his way, and nipping them, and growling like a bad little bear, until his lady came and fished him out, screaming and squirming, but not nipping.

Why do you suppose the gentle, timid little Baby Mitchell had all at once become such a naughty, self-willed squirrel?

WhatshallI do with him? thoughtthe lady. She was afraid he would gnaw her friend’s furniture, and do all sorts of mischievous things; so whenever she was not there to take care of him, she had to keep him shut up in his little box, which was fast getting to be too small for him.

One morning, as he sat on the window-sill eating a nut, he had a visit.

Along came a big reddish yellowish squirrel, as large as a full-grown gray one, but all fluffy,—a very handsome, afraid-of-nobody sort of fellow, who sat on the window-sill on the other side of the wire screen, and looked in at Little Mitchell.

How do you suppose Little Mitchell received this pretty visitor? He just dropped his nut with a squeal, and scampered off as if the old cat were after him, and went and hid in the corner under the table.

You wouldn’t consider that very good manners, would you? But then, you see, he was really only a baby, and had not yet learned how to behave.

There were a great many squirrels about the lady’s friend’s place. The grounds were large, with fine big trees and wide lawns,—just the kind of place squirrels like, for nobody can shoot them there, and they know it.

So all about were squirrels,—little red fellows, and big gray fellows, and once in a while a big, tawny fluffy fellow such as came to visit Little Mitchell. Well, these squirrels played a great deal, scampering about the lawn and racing over the branches of the trees, which made bridges for them high up in the air. And oh, how they would jump! It was enough to make one dizzy to look at them.

But when the chestnuts that grewon the big trees back of the house were ripe, then was the time of joy for all these squirrels.

They had their own trouble in getting their share of the nuts,—what with the boys and all the other people who wanted them,—but you may be sure the squirrels got more than anybody else.

There were so many squirrels hunting for nuts!—and I am sorry to say they were not all as honest as they might have been.

The little red squirrels were the quickest, and got the most nuts; but they didn’t keep the most, because there were those rascally gray squirrels, which were nimble-witted if they were not nimble-footed.

You know what the squirrels do with their nuts. They hide them. If they do not find a good place in a hollow tree or somewhere, then theyjust dig a little hole and bury the nut in the ground.

One day Little Mitchell’s lady was sitting by a window that looked out on the lawn at the back of the house, and this is what she saw.

Along came a little red squirrel with a nut in his mouth. He dug a hole in the ground with his little paws, very fast indeed. Then he tucked the nut in, covered it up, and patted the dirt and grass all down nice and smooth over it.

This done, he scampered off and got another nut and buried it in the same way, and then another and another, until he had planted quite a space with his nuts. Then off he went, and I am sure you could not have found one of those nuts, he had hidden them so cleverly, patting the earth and grass down over them, so that the places where they were did not show at all.

But if you could not have found them, there was somebody else who could.

The little red squirrel had no sooner hidden his last nut and gone off, than along came a big gray squirrel. Hop, hop, he came, his nose to the ground. Then he stopped, and began to dig very fast with his hands, and—pop!—out came one of the nuts the little red squirrel had so carefully hidden!

Then the big gray mischief bounded off to the other side of the lawn, wherehedug a hole and buried that nut! His hole was deeper,—very likely too deep for the little red fellow to get his nut again, though I am not sure about that. But, anyway, the gray squirrel dug up all the poor little red fellow’s nuts, and went off and hid them, one by one, somewhere else.

The lady sat at the window and watched this mischief. Then the graysquirrel sprang up a tree and went tearing across the grove chattering like mad.

No, not because he felt so proud of what he had done, but because a blue-jay was after him.

There were blue-jays in the grove, too, and they were always tormenting the squirrels, chasing them and screaming at them as though they meant to do all sorts of things to them.

Little Mitchell did not see these things going on among his kinsfolk, because he would have nothing to do with any other squirrels. He would not even look at them; and if one came near the window where he was, he always scampered off and hid.

One day the lady took Little Mitchell down town with her. He was in his little box, you know, because she could not quite trust him to go without it. She was afraid he wouldjump on somebody’s back, or do something dreadful on the electric car; so she shut him up in his box, and took him along.

You couldn’t guess where they went!

It was to the photographer’s, to see if he could take Little Mitchell’s picture. The man said he would try.

They put Little Mitchell up on a stand; but he wouldn’t stay. They did everything they could think of, but it was of no use,—he wouldn’t keep still one second.

At last the lady sat down, and tried to coax him to sit still with her; but he wouldn’t do that, either. He jumped up on her shoulder, and cocked his tail up over his head,—it was quite a tail by this time,—and peeped out at the photographer, and at the queer box with a glass eye that kept pointing at him. The photographer snapped, the way they do when theytake a picture; but Little Mitchell was too quick for him, and gave his tail a flirt that spoiled the picture.

Then the photographer got all ready again; but this time, just as he was about to take the picture, Little Mitchell jumped up on his lady’s head,—and that, of course, wouldn’t do.

So they got all ready again, with Little Mitchell sitting on his lady’s knee; but again he flirted off, just in time to spoil the picture.

Then he climbed up on his lady’s arm, and the photographer whistled, and Little Mitchell cocked up his tail and his ears,—just as you see him in the picture,—and listened, and in a trice the man had pressed the bulb and the restless Little Mitchell had his picture taken after all. Whether it was a success or not, you can decide for yourself; for it is the frontispiece to this very book.

When the lady was ready to go, she could not find Little Mitchell. That is because he was in the photographer’s pocket. He had climbed in there to hide away after the excitement of having his picture taken; and at last the photographer laughed, for he knew the little rascal was there all the time, and hauled him out, squirming and protesting, and handed him to the lady.

In a few days she was ready to go on to Boston; and she said she would be glad to get there, so as to have a suitable place for Little Mitchell, where he would not have to be shut up so much and yet could not get into mischief.

So they said good-bye to the Hartford friends, and started for Boston, Little Mitchell in his little box, which he did not like at all.

They had their lunch on the train, and Little Mitchell’s lunch was chestnuts and chinkapins, which he atesitting in the corner of the seat next the window. But his lady had some very dainty sandwiches, made of thin slices of bread and butter with cream cheese between.

Presently Little Mitchell smelled the lady’s lunch, and it smelled better than his own; so he threw down his nut and ran up on her arm and tried to take her sandwich away from her.

She said no, for she feared it might not agree with him; but he said yes, he would have some, and he snatched and got a crumb which he crowded into his mouth.

The lady set him down on the seat and gave him his nut; but he threw it down, and again snatched at her sandwich. He nearly got it all this time, but the lady caught it away just in time. Then he began to scream and struggle and fight for the sandwich, until the people in the car began tolaugh, and then the lady gave him a little piece, and he sat up very straight, eating cheese sandwich and looking as solemn as an owl.

When they neared Boston, there was a struggle to get him into his box; for he had decided he wouldn’t go. But this time he had to; and the minute they got off the train the lady drove to a bird-store and got a big wire squirrel-cage to take home with her.

As soon as she was in her own room, she let Little Mitchell out. Such a relief as it was to get him safely there! And such a time as he had getting acquainted with his new home! He went all about the room,—over the couch, on the table, all through the bookcase, and even into the closet where the lady hung her dresses.

Little Mitchell Plays with a String“Across the room and back again he would chase it.” (Page190)

Little Mitchell Plays with a String“Across the room and back again he would chase it.” (Page190)

Little Mitchell Plays with a String

“Across the room and back again he would chase it.” (Page190)

Then he helped her to unpack her trunk and put everything away. Of course the way he helped was to get under her feet or her hands and be in the way all the time as much as possible.

Then the lady put him in the big new cage, and shut the door. He walked all around it, and then got into the wheel. You know the wire wheel that is always in a squirrel-cage? As soon as he moved, of course the wheel began to turn, and he began to run. The faster he ran the faster it turned, until he fairly flew.

At last his legs ached so he could run no more, and he stopped, and then the wonderful wheel stopped too; but as soon as he took a step, it turned again. Finally he jumped out; but in a few minutes he went back and tried it again. He thought it was splendid fun; and so all in a minute, without any teaching, Little Mitchell learned how to use his play-wheel.

The lady stood close by the cage and watched him, for she feared he might be frightened by it, and if he had seemed at all troubled she was ready to put in her hand and stop the wheel until he gradually learned how to use it.

IXLITTLE MITCHELL’S HAPPY DAYSLittle Mitchellwas a very happy squirrel in his Boston home. His lady’s room had a large bay-window in the end, that looked out over the tops of the houses and away off up the beautiful Charles River; and there was a large platform, almost like a little room, in the bay-window, and here, by the side of the writing-table, stood his cage. Its door was always open when the lady was at home, and he had glorious frolics all about the big room.He climbed everywhere, but the best fun was racing over the Japanese screen. The lady had no tree for him to climb, so she gave him the screen to play with; and up and down it hewould go, now this side, now that. But he had the best time biting the eyes out of the birds on the screen and unravelling the embroidery.Then he would sit up on top of the screen and gnaw away at the wooden frame. You see, when he was spoiling the screen he was not spoiling anything else; and as he liked the screen better than anything else, his lady said he might as well eat it up if he wanted to, so she gave it to him.It was very funny to see him go up the side of the screen, which stood upright, you know, like the wall of a house. His claws were as sharp as a cat’s, and he would hold on by his front feet, and jump up with his hind feet and get a new hold with his front ones, and so on. He looked as though he went hopping up the screen. And it was funnier still when he came down head-first.But funniest of all was to see him hang by his hind toes, head down, and play with his tail! He was very fond of playing with his tail, and when he was on the floor he would often chase it just as a kitten does. It was a fine tail by this time, long and bushy; and when he got excited he would fluff it out until it looked like a real grown-up squirrel’s tail.But talking of tails, the most outrageously funny thing Little Mitchell ever did was to roll himself up into a ball, with his tail hugged in his arms and held between his teeth, then go over and over, like a ball, from one end of the platform to the other.The first time the lady saw him, she was rather startled,—she could not imagine for a moment what that queer soft-looking ball was, rolling so fast about the platform. How she did laugh when she saw that it was only LittleMitchell amusing himself! She had never seen a squirrel or anything else act like that before.He was so funny playing about the room, hanging by his toes from the screen and rolling around like a ball, that the lady could do nothing but watch him when he was out of the cage. She said he wasted all her time; and he certainly did waste a great deal of it.The first thing in the morning, he had to be fed and given a drink of fresh water. He ate all sorts of nuts now, but he would not crack the hard ones himself. The lady used to bring home any nice new nuts that she saw when she was out, and Little Mitchell was always on hand to open her parcels. He enjoyed opening them as much as you do when your mother comes home from shopping. If he found nuts, he would get into the bag and paw themall over, and at last run off with one. If there were no nuts, he would sniff at everything, and then go off, though sometimes he found something he liked to play with in the parcels.When he was hungry, he insisted on sitting upon the lady’s knee to eat his nuts. Of course he could sit up as well as anybody now, and hold the nut in his funny little hands. Some people would saypaws; but if a squirrel has not hands, then nobody has. Just watch one take a nut and turn it over and over with those hands, and finally hold it firmly between those ridiculous little nubbins that are his thumbs, while he gnaws it. And then watch him comb his tail with his fingers, and wash his face with his hands, and catch your watch-chain when you dangle it in front of him. Only, you see, he always uses both hands at once. At least Little Mitchelldid, for the lady never saw him take anything in one hand alone. And he did not pick up things with his hands,—he picked up his nuts with his mouth, and then took them in his hands.Didn’t he crack any of his nuts himself? Oh yes, indeed, he cracked the almonds and beech-nuts, and such soft-shelled ones, as cleverly as you could have done it yourself. But when it came to hickory nuts and filberts, he wouldn’t even try to crack them; he would go and poke them into his lady’s hand for her to crack, or else he would hide them away.He knew perfectly well, when she got out the little hammer, that she was going to crack his nuts,—and a hard time she had not to crack his nose too, for he insisted upon poking it under the hammer, to see how the nuts were getting on, I suppose.Peanuts? Oh, he wouldn’t touch a peanut,—not if he were ever so hungry. He wouldn’t open one, and he wouldn’t eat it if the lady opened it for him. No,—he wouldn’t look at peanuts. But he would eat beech-nuts until you wondered where in the world he put them all. And pecan nuts he liked almost as well, only of course the lady had to crack them for him.He knew a good nut from a bad one, too, before opening it. You could be very sure that if he threw down a beech-nut or an almond without trying to open it, there was nothing fit to eat inside. How he knew, I cannot tell; but the rascal did know. I suppose it was some of that squirrel wisdom that kept coming to him as he grew older.He used to drink from a tumbler in those days; but he would not take it between his lips, as he used to take the spoon. He would stand up, holding onto the edge with his hands, and then drink, making a great noise while doing it. It was just the way children sometimes drink when they are naughty; but he was not naughty,—he didn’t know any better, and it was all so cunning his lady did not try to teach him.She made up her mind, though, that she would teach him a great many things, he was so gentle and affectionate and intelligent.But hewassomething of a nuisance about wasting her time. For one thing, she had to brush his coat every morning; and he would sit quite still to have his head and ears brushed. He would turn his head first one side, then the other, so that his ears could be brushed all around and back of them, inside and out. But as soon as his ears were washed, he thought that was enough, and that it was time for some fun; so he would catch holdof the brush and bite it, and kick at it with his hind feet like a kitten playing, and when the lady scolded him he would sit still for about a second, then he would snatch at the brush again, or maybe suddenly fly off from her knee and across the room. But she always brought him back, and made him stay until his fur was nicely brushed from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.The tail was the hardest to fix. How he would act when she got to his tail! Heknewit was time for some fun then, and he would jerk the brush out of his lady’s hand, and run away with it in his mouth, and when she caught him and took it away he would catch hold of his tail and begin to comb it very fast himself with his hands and his front teeth.Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page192)Did he ever get over crying when his mouth was wiped? Oh no, after every drink of water he screamed in the same naughty way if the lady wiped his mouth. He much preferred springing upon her and wiping it very hard on the front of her dress. I suppose he thought laces and ribbons were made for squirrels to wipe their faces on!But he did love his lady. He did not want to be away from her a moment. Sometimes, when he ran across the front of her waist to get to her shoulder, she would drop a little kiss on his furry coat as he passed. Then what would he do? Run on without noticing it? Oh no; he would stop for just the fraction of a second, and give one soft touch of his little velvety tongue to her cheek, and then race on again.Sometimes he would lick her hands like a little dog; and if she was busy, he couldn’tpossiblylet her alone. If she was writing, he would take holdof the pen and shake it, and bite at her fingers, and turn somersaults in her lap, and caper so she couldn’t do a thing but stop and play with him, as though he were a little monkey.He liked to have her tousle him about, as you do a kitten, upside down, and tickling his little white neck and chest with her fingers; and he would make believe bite, and really scratch just like a kitten. You see, his little claws were as sharp as any cat’s claws; and though he did not mean to hurt her at all, he scratched her hands all over until they were a sight to see. Then she had to stop playing that way, and instead she took a long lead-pencil, and he would bite at that and catch it in all four of his feet, and hang from it like a sloth, back down, and she would swing him back and forth, as though he were a hammock suspended from the ends ofthe pencil. He thought that was great fun, and so did the lady.As to sewing, she couldn’t do a bit of it if he was out of his cage, for he insisted upon helping, and caught hold of the thread and tangled it all up. It was such fun to see the lady’s hands go back and forth, that he would jump at them, and she was afraid that she would stick the needle into his nose or his eye. With the scissors it was even worse; she couldn’t so much as snip a thread without running the risk of clipping something off him,—one of his feet, or his nose, or the end of his tail. He seemed to be all over everything at once.Of course she could have shut him up in his cage, but she didn’t like to do that, it made him so unhappy. He would shake the cage door, and bite at it, and do everything he could think of to coax her to let him out.Of course he wasn’t bothering her every minute, though when he was not playing with her she had to keep sharp watch of him, for she never knew what he might do next, excepting when he was taking a sun-bath on the platform. For when the sun flooded the big windows, nice and warm, he would flatten himself out on the floor, and stretch first one leg, then another, and finally he would open his mouth and yawn, and show his four front teeth, two above and two below, that looked very long and sharp.For that is the way the squirrel-folk have their teeth,—two long, sharp ones in the front of the upper jaw, and two opposite them in the front of the lower jaw. These teeth are like little chisels, and it is with them they gnaw wood so easily. Not that they have only four teeth,—they have others, away back in the mouth, that looksomething like our back teeth, and are used for the same purpose—to chew the food.Well, when Little Mitchell went to take a sun-bath, the lady was glad, you may be sure; for then she knew he would be out of mischief for a little while. But it did not last long. He was soon up and off to see what he could do next.He had soon collected a number of things to play with. If the lady missed any little thing, she was always sure who had run away with it. His pet plaything at this time was a little white envelope that had had a visiting-card in it. He fished the envelope out of the scrap-basket and carried it about for a long time, and then hid it away under the corner of a sofa pillow. He was always hiding his things, and the lady was always finding them in the queerest places. He used to put nutsin her slippers, and one day he even tried to drop nuts down her back. She never knew what she would find in the sleeves of her dresses when she took them out of the closet.At last she collected all his playthings that she could find,—the little envelope, a big button, a hard cracker, a piece of cooky, a small pine-cone, three acorns, a worsted ball, and a butternut,—and put them in a little basket on the bureau. Very soon, you may be sure, Little Mitchell found them. The first thing his lady knew, he was sitting on the very corner of the bureau, with his cracker in his hands, nibbling it. Then he took a taste of the cooky; next he hauled out the little envelope, and had a joyous time hauling everything out of the basket.What do you think he did next?To the lady’s great astonishment, he put them all back again!He took the greatest fancy to the little basket; and ever after, when he took his things out of it, he put at least part of them back again. He seemed to think they were safely hidden there.He had such a hard time hiding things! All his extra nuts he wished to bury; for that is the way with the squirrel-folk, you know, and though Little Mitchell had never seen a squirrel bury anything, he could not get over wanting to do it. His favorite place, next to the folds of the lady’s dress, was the deer-skin that lay on the platform. It was a beautiful skin from his own mountains, where the deer still run wild.But the hair on a deer is short and stiff; so there was not much chance to hide anything in it. Yet how Little Mitchell did try! He would hold in his mouth the nut to be buried, while he dug very fast indeed with his hands,—that is, he went through the motions of digging, for of course he couldn’t dig a hole in the deer-skin.Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.” (Page197)When he had dug long enough, he would poke the nut down under the hair on the skin, and then pat it all down nicely on top. Only when he got through there was the nut in plain sight! Poor little chap! He would try again and again, and at last give the nut a good patting, and scamper off. He often succeeded in getting the nuts out of sight under the hair; and a funny skin it was to walk over then, all hubbly with hard nuts!Another trick was to hide the nuts all over his lady as she sat reading, and when she got up a perfect shower of nuts would rattle out upon the floor.You should have seen the little fellow play with a ball tied to a string!—across the room and back again,around and around he would chase it, just like a kitten. But he was ever so much quicker and funnier than a kitten, and prettier, too, with that bushy tail of his flirting and curving about.You see how it was,—he had nobody but his lady to play with, and he justhadto play; so he learned all sorts of funny little tricks that squirrels in the woods, who have each other to chase and who have to put away their winter stores, have no time for.Do you know how he learned to sit in the doll’s chair?The lady got a little wooden chair and table to give to a little girl; but before she gave them away she thought she would see if she couldn’t teach Little Mitchell to sit in the chair. So she let him get quite hungry one day; then she put him in the chair with one hand while she gave him a nice cracked nut with the other.He was so eager to eat his nut that he never moved! She drew the table up in front of him, with some nuts and a little red apple lying on it, and Little Mitchell sat there like a well-behaved child and ate his supper. He soon got used to it, and if he felt like it he would sit still in the tiny rocking-chair and eat his nuts; but sometimes he would jump up and tip over the chair, table, and everything else.He liked apples. He liked to have a whole one, so he could roll it around and play with it. You should have seen him try to hold it in his hands like a nut! When he found he couldn’t, he would crouch down close to it and gnaw a hole in the skin. But don’t imagine he would swallow the skin! He wouldn’t, not a bit! He flung it away, as he did the nut-shells, and ate the soft pulp inside.He did not often get a whole apple,because the lady did not like to have the bits of skin thrown about the floor. You see, he would go to work and peel half the apple before he took a bite. He seemed to do this for fun; but he never picked up the little pieces of skin he flung about.But much as he liked apples, he liked grapes better; and these he could hold in his hands. He looked very pretty, sitting up with his bushy tail showing above his head and a big yellow California grape in his hands.

LITTLE MITCHELL’S HAPPY DAYS

Little Mitchellwas a very happy squirrel in his Boston home. His lady’s room had a large bay-window in the end, that looked out over the tops of the houses and away off up the beautiful Charles River; and there was a large platform, almost like a little room, in the bay-window, and here, by the side of the writing-table, stood his cage. Its door was always open when the lady was at home, and he had glorious frolics all about the big room.

He climbed everywhere, but the best fun was racing over the Japanese screen. The lady had no tree for him to climb, so she gave him the screen to play with; and up and down it hewould go, now this side, now that. But he had the best time biting the eyes out of the birds on the screen and unravelling the embroidery.

Then he would sit up on top of the screen and gnaw away at the wooden frame. You see, when he was spoiling the screen he was not spoiling anything else; and as he liked the screen better than anything else, his lady said he might as well eat it up if he wanted to, so she gave it to him.

It was very funny to see him go up the side of the screen, which stood upright, you know, like the wall of a house. His claws were as sharp as a cat’s, and he would hold on by his front feet, and jump up with his hind feet and get a new hold with his front ones, and so on. He looked as though he went hopping up the screen. And it was funnier still when he came down head-first.

But funniest of all was to see him hang by his hind toes, head down, and play with his tail! He was very fond of playing with his tail, and when he was on the floor he would often chase it just as a kitten does. It was a fine tail by this time, long and bushy; and when he got excited he would fluff it out until it looked like a real grown-up squirrel’s tail.

But talking of tails, the most outrageously funny thing Little Mitchell ever did was to roll himself up into a ball, with his tail hugged in his arms and held between his teeth, then go over and over, like a ball, from one end of the platform to the other.

The first time the lady saw him, she was rather startled,—she could not imagine for a moment what that queer soft-looking ball was, rolling so fast about the platform. How she did laugh when she saw that it was only LittleMitchell amusing himself! She had never seen a squirrel or anything else act like that before.

He was so funny playing about the room, hanging by his toes from the screen and rolling around like a ball, that the lady could do nothing but watch him when he was out of the cage. She said he wasted all her time; and he certainly did waste a great deal of it.

The first thing in the morning, he had to be fed and given a drink of fresh water. He ate all sorts of nuts now, but he would not crack the hard ones himself. The lady used to bring home any nice new nuts that she saw when she was out, and Little Mitchell was always on hand to open her parcels. He enjoyed opening them as much as you do when your mother comes home from shopping. If he found nuts, he would get into the bag and paw themall over, and at last run off with one. If there were no nuts, he would sniff at everything, and then go off, though sometimes he found something he liked to play with in the parcels.

When he was hungry, he insisted on sitting upon the lady’s knee to eat his nuts. Of course he could sit up as well as anybody now, and hold the nut in his funny little hands. Some people would saypaws; but if a squirrel has not hands, then nobody has. Just watch one take a nut and turn it over and over with those hands, and finally hold it firmly between those ridiculous little nubbins that are his thumbs, while he gnaws it. And then watch him comb his tail with his fingers, and wash his face with his hands, and catch your watch-chain when you dangle it in front of him. Only, you see, he always uses both hands at once. At least Little Mitchelldid, for the lady never saw him take anything in one hand alone. And he did not pick up things with his hands,—he picked up his nuts with his mouth, and then took them in his hands.

Didn’t he crack any of his nuts himself? Oh yes, indeed, he cracked the almonds and beech-nuts, and such soft-shelled ones, as cleverly as you could have done it yourself. But when it came to hickory nuts and filberts, he wouldn’t even try to crack them; he would go and poke them into his lady’s hand for her to crack, or else he would hide them away.

He knew perfectly well, when she got out the little hammer, that she was going to crack his nuts,—and a hard time she had not to crack his nose too, for he insisted upon poking it under the hammer, to see how the nuts were getting on, I suppose.

Peanuts? Oh, he wouldn’t touch a peanut,—not if he were ever so hungry. He wouldn’t open one, and he wouldn’t eat it if the lady opened it for him. No,—he wouldn’t look at peanuts. But he would eat beech-nuts until you wondered where in the world he put them all. And pecan nuts he liked almost as well, only of course the lady had to crack them for him.

He knew a good nut from a bad one, too, before opening it. You could be very sure that if he threw down a beech-nut or an almond without trying to open it, there was nothing fit to eat inside. How he knew, I cannot tell; but the rascal did know. I suppose it was some of that squirrel wisdom that kept coming to him as he grew older.

He used to drink from a tumbler in those days; but he would not take it between his lips, as he used to take the spoon. He would stand up, holding onto the edge with his hands, and then drink, making a great noise while doing it. It was just the way children sometimes drink when they are naughty; but he was not naughty,—he didn’t know any better, and it was all so cunning his lady did not try to teach him.

She made up her mind, though, that she would teach him a great many things, he was so gentle and affectionate and intelligent.

But hewassomething of a nuisance about wasting her time. For one thing, she had to brush his coat every morning; and he would sit quite still to have his head and ears brushed. He would turn his head first one side, then the other, so that his ears could be brushed all around and back of them, inside and out. But as soon as his ears were washed, he thought that was enough, and that it was time for some fun; so he would catch holdof the brush and bite it, and kick at it with his hind feet like a kitten playing, and when the lady scolded him he would sit still for about a second, then he would snatch at the brush again, or maybe suddenly fly off from her knee and across the room. But she always brought him back, and made him stay until his fur was nicely brushed from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.

The tail was the hardest to fix. How he would act when she got to his tail! Heknewit was time for some fun then, and he would jerk the brush out of his lady’s hand, and run away with it in his mouth, and when she caught him and took it away he would catch hold of his tail and begin to comb it very fast himself with his hands and his front teeth.

Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page192)

Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page192)

Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair

“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.” (Page192)

Did he ever get over crying when his mouth was wiped? Oh no, after every drink of water he screamed in the same naughty way if the lady wiped his mouth. He much preferred springing upon her and wiping it very hard on the front of her dress. I suppose he thought laces and ribbons were made for squirrels to wipe their faces on!

But he did love his lady. He did not want to be away from her a moment. Sometimes, when he ran across the front of her waist to get to her shoulder, she would drop a little kiss on his furry coat as he passed. Then what would he do? Run on without noticing it? Oh no; he would stop for just the fraction of a second, and give one soft touch of his little velvety tongue to her cheek, and then race on again.

Sometimes he would lick her hands like a little dog; and if she was busy, he couldn’tpossiblylet her alone. If she was writing, he would take holdof the pen and shake it, and bite at her fingers, and turn somersaults in her lap, and caper so she couldn’t do a thing but stop and play with him, as though he were a little monkey.

He liked to have her tousle him about, as you do a kitten, upside down, and tickling his little white neck and chest with her fingers; and he would make believe bite, and really scratch just like a kitten. You see, his little claws were as sharp as any cat’s claws; and though he did not mean to hurt her at all, he scratched her hands all over until they were a sight to see. Then she had to stop playing that way, and instead she took a long lead-pencil, and he would bite at that and catch it in all four of his feet, and hang from it like a sloth, back down, and she would swing him back and forth, as though he were a hammock suspended from the ends ofthe pencil. He thought that was great fun, and so did the lady.

As to sewing, she couldn’t do a bit of it if he was out of his cage, for he insisted upon helping, and caught hold of the thread and tangled it all up. It was such fun to see the lady’s hands go back and forth, that he would jump at them, and she was afraid that she would stick the needle into his nose or his eye. With the scissors it was even worse; she couldn’t so much as snip a thread without running the risk of clipping something off him,—one of his feet, or his nose, or the end of his tail. He seemed to be all over everything at once.

Of course she could have shut him up in his cage, but she didn’t like to do that, it made him so unhappy. He would shake the cage door, and bite at it, and do everything he could think of to coax her to let him out.

Of course he wasn’t bothering her every minute, though when he was not playing with her she had to keep sharp watch of him, for she never knew what he might do next, excepting when he was taking a sun-bath on the platform. For when the sun flooded the big windows, nice and warm, he would flatten himself out on the floor, and stretch first one leg, then another, and finally he would open his mouth and yawn, and show his four front teeth, two above and two below, that looked very long and sharp.

For that is the way the squirrel-folk have their teeth,—two long, sharp ones in the front of the upper jaw, and two opposite them in the front of the lower jaw. These teeth are like little chisels, and it is with them they gnaw wood so easily. Not that they have only four teeth,—they have others, away back in the mouth, that looksomething like our back teeth, and are used for the same purpose—to chew the food.

Well, when Little Mitchell went to take a sun-bath, the lady was glad, you may be sure; for then she knew he would be out of mischief for a little while. But it did not last long. He was soon up and off to see what he could do next.

He had soon collected a number of things to play with. If the lady missed any little thing, she was always sure who had run away with it. His pet plaything at this time was a little white envelope that had had a visiting-card in it. He fished the envelope out of the scrap-basket and carried it about for a long time, and then hid it away under the corner of a sofa pillow. He was always hiding his things, and the lady was always finding them in the queerest places. He used to put nutsin her slippers, and one day he even tried to drop nuts down her back. She never knew what she would find in the sleeves of her dresses when she took them out of the closet.

At last she collected all his playthings that she could find,—the little envelope, a big button, a hard cracker, a piece of cooky, a small pine-cone, three acorns, a worsted ball, and a butternut,—and put them in a little basket on the bureau. Very soon, you may be sure, Little Mitchell found them. The first thing his lady knew, he was sitting on the very corner of the bureau, with his cracker in his hands, nibbling it. Then he took a taste of the cooky; next he hauled out the little envelope, and had a joyous time hauling everything out of the basket.

What do you think he did next?

To the lady’s great astonishment, he put them all back again!

He took the greatest fancy to the little basket; and ever after, when he took his things out of it, he put at least part of them back again. He seemed to think they were safely hidden there.

He had such a hard time hiding things! All his extra nuts he wished to bury; for that is the way with the squirrel-folk, you know, and though Little Mitchell had never seen a squirrel bury anything, he could not get over wanting to do it. His favorite place, next to the folds of the lady’s dress, was the deer-skin that lay on the platform. It was a beautiful skin from his own mountains, where the deer still run wild.

But the hair on a deer is short and stiff; so there was not much chance to hide anything in it. Yet how Little Mitchell did try! He would hold in his mouth the nut to be buried, while he dug very fast indeed with his hands,—that is, he went through the motions of digging, for of course he couldn’t dig a hole in the deer-skin.

Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.” (Page197)

Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.” (Page197)

Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle

“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.” (Page197)

When he had dug long enough, he would poke the nut down under the hair on the skin, and then pat it all down nicely on top. Only when he got through there was the nut in plain sight! Poor little chap! He would try again and again, and at last give the nut a good patting, and scamper off. He often succeeded in getting the nuts out of sight under the hair; and a funny skin it was to walk over then, all hubbly with hard nuts!

Another trick was to hide the nuts all over his lady as she sat reading, and when she got up a perfect shower of nuts would rattle out upon the floor.

You should have seen the little fellow play with a ball tied to a string!—across the room and back again,around and around he would chase it, just like a kitten. But he was ever so much quicker and funnier than a kitten, and prettier, too, with that bushy tail of his flirting and curving about.

You see how it was,—he had nobody but his lady to play with, and he justhadto play; so he learned all sorts of funny little tricks that squirrels in the woods, who have each other to chase and who have to put away their winter stores, have no time for.

Do you know how he learned to sit in the doll’s chair?

The lady got a little wooden chair and table to give to a little girl; but before she gave them away she thought she would see if she couldn’t teach Little Mitchell to sit in the chair. So she let him get quite hungry one day; then she put him in the chair with one hand while she gave him a nice cracked nut with the other.

He was so eager to eat his nut that he never moved! She drew the table up in front of him, with some nuts and a little red apple lying on it, and Little Mitchell sat there like a well-behaved child and ate his supper. He soon got used to it, and if he felt like it he would sit still in the tiny rocking-chair and eat his nuts; but sometimes he would jump up and tip over the chair, table, and everything else.

He liked apples. He liked to have a whole one, so he could roll it around and play with it. You should have seen him try to hold it in his hands like a nut! When he found he couldn’t, he would crouch down close to it and gnaw a hole in the skin. But don’t imagine he would swallow the skin! He wouldn’t, not a bit! He flung it away, as he did the nut-shells, and ate the soft pulp inside.

He did not often get a whole apple,because the lady did not like to have the bits of skin thrown about the floor. You see, he would go to work and peel half the apple before he took a bite. He seemed to do this for fun; but he never picked up the little pieces of skin he flung about.

But much as he liked apples, he liked grapes better; and these he could hold in his hands. He looked very pretty, sitting up with his bushy tail showing above his head and a big yellow California grape in his hands.

XLITTLE MITCHELL MAKES A MISTAKELittle Mitchelldid not allow anybody to touch him except his lady; and he would not eat for any one else. He would not even make friends with the other people in the house,—but that may be because he did not see enough of them.One day the lady heard no sound from him for a long time, and she began to look around for him; but Little Mitchell was gone! She looked all about the room,—no Little Mitchell. In his cage,—no Little Mitchell. In the closet, where the dresses hung,—no Mitchell. She shook the dresses to see if he had not gone to hide in them and fallen asleep,—no Little Mitchell.Then she called him,—not a sound. Finally she went out into the hall and looked for him, for the door was open,—but still no Little Mitchell.Then she went into the room of her next neighbor, who was a newspaper editor and not at home, but whose door was open; and there, in the middle of the floor, looking about him to see what to go at first, sat Little Mitchell!The rascal! As soon as the lady came he made a dive for the hall and scampered home; for she had told him he must not go near the open door, and had scolded him so often for doing it that he knew perfectly well he ought not to do it.Yes, indeed,—he knew when he was scolded, and scolding was usually enough; though once or twice the lady had spatted him,—not hard, you know, not hard at all; but it almostbroke his heart, he was such a sensitive little thing.The first time it happened he had done somethingverynaughty, and he knew it was naughty too. The lady caught him up and cuffed him ever so little; but she was dreadfully frightened when the little fellow stiffened out as though he were dead, and lay perfectly still for ever so long. But he never did the naughty thing again.The only other time he got slapped was when his lady’s friend put out her hand to touch him. He was sitting on his lady’s knee, and he deliberately reached out and bit the visitor’s finger. Yes, he really bit it so that a drop of blood came.Thatwasnaughty, and he knew it; and his lady slapped him a little, and said, “No, no, Mitchell!” very crossly, and he jumped away, his tail all fluffy, and ran as fast as he could and tuckedhis head up her sleeve as far as he could get it.Perhaps the reason why he went to the editor’s room was because that was where the singing came from, and he did enjoy hearing anybody sing! When the editor was at home, he used to sing a great deal; and Little Mitchell would climb up on the screen which stood in front of the open door, and lean his head away down, and cock his ear to listen, and there he would stay as still as a mouse as long as the editor sang or whistled.One day he really went visiting. His lady took him to a friend’s house one night just as they were finishing dinner, and she was invited to have some of the ice-cream.She had Little Mitchell buttoned up under her jacket; but as soon as the ice-cream came along he put in an appearance and wanted his share, whichhe ate very nicely out of a spoon, to the amusement of all who saw him.After dinner, when they were all together in the sitting-room, one of the young men—who was a Harvard student, and knew more about many other things than he did about squirrels—said Little Mitchell did not really know the lady, but would just as soon go to anybody else if he were left alone.So all the family—eight or nine, counting the visitors—formed a circle, and the lady set Little Mitchell down in the middle, and then quickly stepped back behind him to a new place in the circle.Little Mitchell’s bushy tail jerked nervously for a minute, and his bright eyes looked wildly from one strange face to another; then he gave a leap and landed at his lady’s feet, and in another second was up on her shoulder.After that, no one denied that he knew his lady, and liked her best of all.He had to take an airing once in a while, and the way he went was to ride in his own private carriage,—which was nothing less than the inside of his lady’s jacket. She would button it all but the two top buttons, and tuck him in, and away they would go for a walk or a romp together.Little Mitchell thought this great fun, and usually gave no trouble. Sometimes they walked along the street, when Little Mitchell would pop his head out and look about, but if anybody came along he would pop it back again.Sometimes they went to the Public Garden; and here he had many adventures. One day his lady thought she would let him climb a tree. So she chose a little one, put him on oneof the lower limbs, and then stepped back. Little Mitchell looked about, but did not climb; he took two or three steps, then I suppose he decided it was an awful thing to be left there alone on a wild little tree in a wild park that stood in a wild world that he knew nothing about; so he gave one tremendous jump and landed on his lady’s shoulder, and scurried down into his safe hiding-place under her jacket, and peeped out at the terrible tree and the strange world he was so afraid of.Then she put him on the grass, and went on; but Little Mitchell went on too, and in less time than it takes to tell he had caught her and come flying up again to his safe place in her jacket.Sometimes he would come out and sit in her hand; but it seemed a very dangerous world to a squirrel who hadnever been out of doors,—and so it was, for did not a little girl come up to look at him one day and suddenly grab him in both hands? But how quick she let go! He squealed his loudest, and squirmed like an eel, and no doubt would have bitten her, only she was so frightened that she dropped him on the grass. The lady quickly stooped down with her hand out, and he sprang upon it and ran up her arm and hid in her jacket. No little girls for him!He liked to have the lady go to a lonely part of the Public Garden, and sit on a bench, and let him sit beside her with a nice pecan nut that had been cracked a little so that he could open it by working at it awhile.You see, he did not crack his own nuts, because he did not know how. It must be that mother squirrels start the nuts for their young ones; butLittle Mitchell’s lady did not know that, only she saw nuts that the squirrels had gnawed, and there were two little holes in the sides opposite each other. But Little Mitchell did not gnaw the sides of the nut,—he always tried to gnaw the end; and you know it would take him forever to get at the meat that way. So finally the lady started his nuts with a penknife in the right place, and Little Mitchell would try very hard to finish opening them; but he liked much better to have his nuts cracked with a hammer, so that he could peel off pieces of the shell.No doubt he would soon have learned to open his nuts himself, and do it very well, only something happened that made this impossible. It is strange he did not know how, he knew so many other things the squirrel folk know, but that they had nevertaught him. You remember he knew how to clean himself and wash his face in the funny squirrel way. And he knew how to talk squirrel talk. He had several sounds that meant different things.The funniest talking he ever did was when he saw the dog in the backyard. It was away down below him, and not in his yard either, but in another yard over the fence. It is strange he should have noticed the dog so far off; but he had good eyes, had Little Mitchell,—and the way he screamed and scolded when he saw the dog! You never heard anything like it,—unless you have been scolded by a gray squirrel out in the woods sometime!He was sitting looking out of the big window, when the little dog ran across the yard. Up went Little Mitchell’s hands across his breast, inthe most comical manner, as though he were pressing them over his fast-beating heart. Then he stretched his neck, and opened his mouth wide, and screamed at the dog. The way he screamed when his mouth was wiped was nothing to this. How he did go on!—just as the gray squirrels in the woods do when they are very much excited; and he had never heard a squirrel do it in all his life.There were gray squirrels on Boston Common, where Little Mitchell sometimes went to walk with the lady; but he did not take the slightest interest in them.There are more squirrels on the Common sometimes than others. The winter Little Mitchell was in Boston there were several of them living on the Common, and they had nests in some of the trees. Yes, they built nests that looked like big clumsybird’s-nests, and they went into them to sleep and to keep warm.One cold winter day, when Little Mitchell’s lady was crossing the Common early in the morning, and Little Mitchell was not with her, a big gray squirrel ran up to her and asked for a nut. Of course he could not ask in people’s talk, but he asked very plainly in squirrel talk,—in their sign language. He made no sound, but signed for nuts in the prettiest way, running close up to her, flatting out a little toward the ground, and looking up into her face as Little Mitchell looked when he was coaxing for something. The lady had no nuts with her; but she brought some when she came that way again. Then she found somebody else had given him nuts, and he was sitting on the ground eating them. Of course this squirrel did not pass the winter in a nest in the branches of a tree. Oh,no, he had a nice warm hiding-place inside a big tree that had a hole in the crotch so that he could get in.Once there were a great many squirrels on the Common, but one day there were none. They had all gone off. What had become of them? everybody was asking. The policeman knew, for he saw them go. It was very early in the morning, and they went all together, single file, across Cambridge bridge. They were on the bridge railing, one old fellow leading the way. Perhaps there were getting to be too many of them to be comfortable on the Common. Perhaps they were tired of city life. Anyway, the policeman saw them go, and that was the end of the squirrels on the Common for some time. At least, so I was told.A good many city parks have gray squirrels in them, but where else are they so tame as in the park atRichmond, Virginia? Little Mitchell’s lady was there one day, before she had found Little Mitchell, and the squirrels were so tame they came right up and ate out of her hand; and when she stooped down to speak to one, another little fellow raced right up her back,—which rather startled her, because she was not used to squirrels then.Well, Little Mitchell grew fast, and promised to become a very large and handsome squirrel, when he made a dreadful mistake one day and licked the heads of the matches. He got into the match-box somehow,—he was always opening boxes to see what was in them,—and he liked the taste of the matches, never suspecting what sad results would follow.The lady looked about at last to see what he was up to,—for if he was quiet more than a minute at a timeit meant mischief. How she jumped when she saw what he was doing! But it was too late, and little Mitchell tumbled over then and there, and the lady thought he was dead; but he was not.He appeared to get over it and be perfectly well again; and the lady—who did not know as much about phosphorus poisoning then as she was soon to learn—thought nothing was to come of it. You see, phosphorus is the stuff on the ends of matches that makes them light; and it is poison,—and a mean, horrible poison too.Little Mitchell played about as usual for a few days, rolling like a ball on the platform, racing over the screen, and tormenting the lady when she wanted to work. Then one morning he was frightfully sick and he stayed sick all day. He sat hunched up onthe couch, making queer, mournful little noises, and eating nothing.He could not even bear the gentle touch of the lady’s hand, and screamed if she came near him, he was so afraid she would touch him. So she left him to himself, and went to the doctor and asked about it, and the doctor told her what to do. There was not very much she could do then, but keep him warm and wait.For two or three days Little Mitchell was a very sick squirrel; but then he began to get better again, and soon was running about almost as well as ever,—but not quite. He seemed weak, and could not use his hind legs as well as usual. But he was still very cunning and lively, and as affectionate as ever.While he was sick, the lady let him sleep under the corner of her travelling rug instead of in his cage; andwhen he got better he still wanted to sleep in the rug. He would creep in to take a nap in the daytime, and at night he teased so to stay that the lady yielded at last, and fixed him a bed on the floor, at the head of her own couch. She doubled a towel in between two folds of the rug, for sheets, as it were; but Little Mitchell did not like the towel, and would creep in on top of it or under it. Then it was pinned down so he had to go into it; and at last he got used to it, and always went in right, whether it was pinned or not.After a few days the lady woke up one night and thought she heard him making queer noises. She got a light, and, sure enough, there he was, as sick as ever. But he got over it again, and went on for a long time about as usual, though his hind legs seemed weaker than before. He could scarcely climb to the top of his screen, and never racedover it and hung by his toes, as he had liked to do.He had to take medicine; but he would not touch his drinking water if the medicine was put in that, so the lady got it in the form of little sugar pills. He was very fond of sugar, you know, though he was not allowed to eat much candy; and he liked those little pills, and was always ready to eat one whenever it was given him.He liked his flaxseeds, too, at first, and would crunch them up, one at a time, between his sharp little teeth; but he soon got tired of them, and would not eat them unless the lady made him. The way she managed was to pour some of the seeds in the palm of her hand, and give them to him early in the morning. If he would not eat them, she waited, and after a while offered them again; and not a bit of breakfast would he get until he hadeaten his flaxseeds. He soon learned that he must eat them, and it was funny to see him try to get rid of them by pawing them out of the lady’s hand. He would paw them all out into her lap; but she would gather them up again, when he would stick in his nose very hard, so as to spatter half of them out. He would munch two or three, looking at her out of his bright eyes; then he would nose around in them again, until he had spilled them all out into her lap. But again she would gather them up, and so they would keep on until he had eaten what was necessary for him.

LITTLE MITCHELL MAKES A MISTAKE

Little Mitchelldid not allow anybody to touch him except his lady; and he would not eat for any one else. He would not even make friends with the other people in the house,—but that may be because he did not see enough of them.

One day the lady heard no sound from him for a long time, and she began to look around for him; but Little Mitchell was gone! She looked all about the room,—no Little Mitchell. In his cage,—no Little Mitchell. In the closet, where the dresses hung,—no Mitchell. She shook the dresses to see if he had not gone to hide in them and fallen asleep,—no Little Mitchell.Then she called him,—not a sound. Finally she went out into the hall and looked for him, for the door was open,—but still no Little Mitchell.

Then she went into the room of her next neighbor, who was a newspaper editor and not at home, but whose door was open; and there, in the middle of the floor, looking about him to see what to go at first, sat Little Mitchell!

The rascal! As soon as the lady came he made a dive for the hall and scampered home; for she had told him he must not go near the open door, and had scolded him so often for doing it that he knew perfectly well he ought not to do it.

Yes, indeed,—he knew when he was scolded, and scolding was usually enough; though once or twice the lady had spatted him,—not hard, you know, not hard at all; but it almostbroke his heart, he was such a sensitive little thing.

The first time it happened he had done somethingverynaughty, and he knew it was naughty too. The lady caught him up and cuffed him ever so little; but she was dreadfully frightened when the little fellow stiffened out as though he were dead, and lay perfectly still for ever so long. But he never did the naughty thing again.

The only other time he got slapped was when his lady’s friend put out her hand to touch him. He was sitting on his lady’s knee, and he deliberately reached out and bit the visitor’s finger. Yes, he really bit it so that a drop of blood came.

Thatwasnaughty, and he knew it; and his lady slapped him a little, and said, “No, no, Mitchell!” very crossly, and he jumped away, his tail all fluffy, and ran as fast as he could and tuckedhis head up her sleeve as far as he could get it.

Perhaps the reason why he went to the editor’s room was because that was where the singing came from, and he did enjoy hearing anybody sing! When the editor was at home, he used to sing a great deal; and Little Mitchell would climb up on the screen which stood in front of the open door, and lean his head away down, and cock his ear to listen, and there he would stay as still as a mouse as long as the editor sang or whistled.

One day he really went visiting. His lady took him to a friend’s house one night just as they were finishing dinner, and she was invited to have some of the ice-cream.

She had Little Mitchell buttoned up under her jacket; but as soon as the ice-cream came along he put in an appearance and wanted his share, whichhe ate very nicely out of a spoon, to the amusement of all who saw him.

After dinner, when they were all together in the sitting-room, one of the young men—who was a Harvard student, and knew more about many other things than he did about squirrels—said Little Mitchell did not really know the lady, but would just as soon go to anybody else if he were left alone.

So all the family—eight or nine, counting the visitors—formed a circle, and the lady set Little Mitchell down in the middle, and then quickly stepped back behind him to a new place in the circle.

Little Mitchell’s bushy tail jerked nervously for a minute, and his bright eyes looked wildly from one strange face to another; then he gave a leap and landed at his lady’s feet, and in another second was up on her shoulder.

After that, no one denied that he knew his lady, and liked her best of all.

He had to take an airing once in a while, and the way he went was to ride in his own private carriage,—which was nothing less than the inside of his lady’s jacket. She would button it all but the two top buttons, and tuck him in, and away they would go for a walk or a romp together.

Little Mitchell thought this great fun, and usually gave no trouble. Sometimes they walked along the street, when Little Mitchell would pop his head out and look about, but if anybody came along he would pop it back again.

Sometimes they went to the Public Garden; and here he had many adventures. One day his lady thought she would let him climb a tree. So she chose a little one, put him on oneof the lower limbs, and then stepped back. Little Mitchell looked about, but did not climb; he took two or three steps, then I suppose he decided it was an awful thing to be left there alone on a wild little tree in a wild park that stood in a wild world that he knew nothing about; so he gave one tremendous jump and landed on his lady’s shoulder, and scurried down into his safe hiding-place under her jacket, and peeped out at the terrible tree and the strange world he was so afraid of.

Then she put him on the grass, and went on; but Little Mitchell went on too, and in less time than it takes to tell he had caught her and come flying up again to his safe place in her jacket.

Sometimes he would come out and sit in her hand; but it seemed a very dangerous world to a squirrel who hadnever been out of doors,—and so it was, for did not a little girl come up to look at him one day and suddenly grab him in both hands? But how quick she let go! He squealed his loudest, and squirmed like an eel, and no doubt would have bitten her, only she was so frightened that she dropped him on the grass. The lady quickly stooped down with her hand out, and he sprang upon it and ran up her arm and hid in her jacket. No little girls for him!

He liked to have the lady go to a lonely part of the Public Garden, and sit on a bench, and let him sit beside her with a nice pecan nut that had been cracked a little so that he could open it by working at it awhile.

You see, he did not crack his own nuts, because he did not know how. It must be that mother squirrels start the nuts for their young ones; butLittle Mitchell’s lady did not know that, only she saw nuts that the squirrels had gnawed, and there were two little holes in the sides opposite each other. But Little Mitchell did not gnaw the sides of the nut,—he always tried to gnaw the end; and you know it would take him forever to get at the meat that way. So finally the lady started his nuts with a penknife in the right place, and Little Mitchell would try very hard to finish opening them; but he liked much better to have his nuts cracked with a hammer, so that he could peel off pieces of the shell.

No doubt he would soon have learned to open his nuts himself, and do it very well, only something happened that made this impossible. It is strange he did not know how, he knew so many other things the squirrel folk know, but that they had nevertaught him. You remember he knew how to clean himself and wash his face in the funny squirrel way. And he knew how to talk squirrel talk. He had several sounds that meant different things.

The funniest talking he ever did was when he saw the dog in the backyard. It was away down below him, and not in his yard either, but in another yard over the fence. It is strange he should have noticed the dog so far off; but he had good eyes, had Little Mitchell,—and the way he screamed and scolded when he saw the dog! You never heard anything like it,—unless you have been scolded by a gray squirrel out in the woods sometime!

He was sitting looking out of the big window, when the little dog ran across the yard. Up went Little Mitchell’s hands across his breast, inthe most comical manner, as though he were pressing them over his fast-beating heart. Then he stretched his neck, and opened his mouth wide, and screamed at the dog. The way he screamed when his mouth was wiped was nothing to this. How he did go on!—just as the gray squirrels in the woods do when they are very much excited; and he had never heard a squirrel do it in all his life.

There were gray squirrels on Boston Common, where Little Mitchell sometimes went to walk with the lady; but he did not take the slightest interest in them.

There are more squirrels on the Common sometimes than others. The winter Little Mitchell was in Boston there were several of them living on the Common, and they had nests in some of the trees. Yes, they built nests that looked like big clumsybird’s-nests, and they went into them to sleep and to keep warm.

One cold winter day, when Little Mitchell’s lady was crossing the Common early in the morning, and Little Mitchell was not with her, a big gray squirrel ran up to her and asked for a nut. Of course he could not ask in people’s talk, but he asked very plainly in squirrel talk,—in their sign language. He made no sound, but signed for nuts in the prettiest way, running close up to her, flatting out a little toward the ground, and looking up into her face as Little Mitchell looked when he was coaxing for something. The lady had no nuts with her; but she brought some when she came that way again. Then she found somebody else had given him nuts, and he was sitting on the ground eating them. Of course this squirrel did not pass the winter in a nest in the branches of a tree. Oh,no, he had a nice warm hiding-place inside a big tree that had a hole in the crotch so that he could get in.

Once there were a great many squirrels on the Common, but one day there were none. They had all gone off. What had become of them? everybody was asking. The policeman knew, for he saw them go. It was very early in the morning, and they went all together, single file, across Cambridge bridge. They were on the bridge railing, one old fellow leading the way. Perhaps there were getting to be too many of them to be comfortable on the Common. Perhaps they were tired of city life. Anyway, the policeman saw them go, and that was the end of the squirrels on the Common for some time. At least, so I was told.

A good many city parks have gray squirrels in them, but where else are they so tame as in the park atRichmond, Virginia? Little Mitchell’s lady was there one day, before she had found Little Mitchell, and the squirrels were so tame they came right up and ate out of her hand; and when she stooped down to speak to one, another little fellow raced right up her back,—which rather startled her, because she was not used to squirrels then.

Well, Little Mitchell grew fast, and promised to become a very large and handsome squirrel, when he made a dreadful mistake one day and licked the heads of the matches. He got into the match-box somehow,—he was always opening boxes to see what was in them,—and he liked the taste of the matches, never suspecting what sad results would follow.

The lady looked about at last to see what he was up to,—for if he was quiet more than a minute at a timeit meant mischief. How she jumped when she saw what he was doing! But it was too late, and little Mitchell tumbled over then and there, and the lady thought he was dead; but he was not.

He appeared to get over it and be perfectly well again; and the lady—who did not know as much about phosphorus poisoning then as she was soon to learn—thought nothing was to come of it. You see, phosphorus is the stuff on the ends of matches that makes them light; and it is poison,—and a mean, horrible poison too.

Little Mitchell played about as usual for a few days, rolling like a ball on the platform, racing over the screen, and tormenting the lady when she wanted to work. Then one morning he was frightfully sick and he stayed sick all day. He sat hunched up onthe couch, making queer, mournful little noises, and eating nothing.

He could not even bear the gentle touch of the lady’s hand, and screamed if she came near him, he was so afraid she would touch him. So she left him to himself, and went to the doctor and asked about it, and the doctor told her what to do. There was not very much she could do then, but keep him warm and wait.

For two or three days Little Mitchell was a very sick squirrel; but then he began to get better again, and soon was running about almost as well as ever,—but not quite. He seemed weak, and could not use his hind legs as well as usual. But he was still very cunning and lively, and as affectionate as ever.

While he was sick, the lady let him sleep under the corner of her travelling rug instead of in his cage; andwhen he got better he still wanted to sleep in the rug. He would creep in to take a nap in the daytime, and at night he teased so to stay that the lady yielded at last, and fixed him a bed on the floor, at the head of her own couch. She doubled a towel in between two folds of the rug, for sheets, as it were; but Little Mitchell did not like the towel, and would creep in on top of it or under it. Then it was pinned down so he had to go into it; and at last he got used to it, and always went in right, whether it was pinned or not.

After a few days the lady woke up one night and thought she heard him making queer noises. She got a light, and, sure enough, there he was, as sick as ever. But he got over it again, and went on for a long time about as usual, though his hind legs seemed weaker than before. He could scarcely climb to the top of his screen, and never racedover it and hung by his toes, as he had liked to do.

He had to take medicine; but he would not touch his drinking water if the medicine was put in that, so the lady got it in the form of little sugar pills. He was very fond of sugar, you know, though he was not allowed to eat much candy; and he liked those little pills, and was always ready to eat one whenever it was given him.

He liked his flaxseeds, too, at first, and would crunch them up, one at a time, between his sharp little teeth; but he soon got tired of them, and would not eat them unless the lady made him. The way she managed was to pour some of the seeds in the palm of her hand, and give them to him early in the morning. If he would not eat them, she waited, and after a while offered them again; and not a bit of breakfast would he get until he hadeaten his flaxseeds. He soon learned that he must eat them, and it was funny to see him try to get rid of them by pawing them out of the lady’s hand. He would paw them all out into her lap; but she would gather them up again, when he would stick in his nose very hard, so as to spatter half of them out. He would munch two or three, looking at her out of his bright eyes; then he would nose around in them again, until he had spilled them all out into her lap. But again she would gather them up, and so they would keep on until he had eaten what was necessary for him.

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