THE SQUIRREL.
[TO VII EDITOR OF THI " BFICTATOR."]
SIR,—My old friend Mr. Stillman's captivating account of his experiences with squirrels published in the Spectator of December 19th, appeals strongly to my sympathy. When, as a boy, I levelled my gun at every bird, great or small, that would give me a sitting shot, my bloodthirstiness revolted from the massacre of a squirrel; and only once in my very early days did I commit sciuricide, for which abominable wickedness my conscience long reproached me as keenly as if I bad been guilty of an unprovoked murder. Very many years afterwards I became possessed of a beautiful specimen of the American grey squirrel, upon which I lavished all the affection which might propitiate the manes of the slaughtered innocent of my boyhood. He was the most delightful and least troublesome of pets, and would pass hours curled up on my shoulder, nestling as closely as he could to my ear and neck. At other times he would fly all over the room, scurry- ing up and down the curtains like a flash of lightning. Very different in conduct to the pets of your correspondent, "H. C. B.," he never caused any damage to my books or furniture, but employed his needle-like teeth solely for the satisfaction of his appetite; and while the ordinary nutshell offered but a momentary obstacle to his extraction of the kernel, it did not take him very long to deal conclusively with that Brazilian species which very few human molars are capable of crushing. I never knew him bite any one during the brief span of what I hope was his happy existence.—I am, Sir, &c.,
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