MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



with the fact that in attacking this particular cor- 

 ner in hemp Madame Jolie-Queue severed the 

 connection between a post and a taut line full of 

 spotless linen fresh from the laundry-tubs. There 

 have been strained relations between the laun- 

 dress and Madame Jolie-Queue since the event. 



I have never before witnessed such heroic 

 bringing up, such Spartan training, as that be- 

 stowed on her offspring by this little squirrel 

 lady during the one day the baby spent in the 

 table d'hote neighborhood. Early in the morn- 

 ing I saw her leading the tender, inexperienced 

 little creature to perilous heights among the 

 maples; eminences from which on every occasion 

 he promptly fell to the ground with a thud sug- 

 gestive of the destruction of his entire internal 

 economy. Over and over I went to the little 

 flattened-out creature, expecting to find him dead ; 

 but he never failed to pick himself up as soon as 

 his scattered wits and suspended breath returned. 

 Once or twice he approached me and took refuge 

 in my lap, but at his mother's angry call and 

 chatter he left me and returned to her. 



We saw her vigorously training and disciplin- 

 ing the poor baby throughout the entire day, and 

 one of our number insists that on two or three 



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