MASTER IMPUDENCE 



WHEN first I read Phil Robinson's account 

 of the Indian squirrel I thought that the 

 writer had painted the little rodent too 

 black. That was in the days when I 

 lived in Northern India, where the squirrel is to outward 

 appearance a highly respectable animal. In that part 

 of the world he rarely ventures inside the bungalow. 

 Hence I used to regard him as a pretty little creature, 

 half bird, half mammal, a four-legged denizen of the 

 trees, a quadruped companion of the fowls of the air, a 

 light-hearted inhabitant of leafy bowers. 



It is true that I recognized that the squirrel was not 

 sweet-tempered, that upon the least provocation he dis- 

 played " anger insignificantly fierce," that his voice was 

 not beautiful ; but these drawbacks were, in my opinion, 

 more than set off by the fact that he is always amusing 

 and pretty to watch. A stay in Madras compelled me 

 to change my opinion of the animal, and to admit 

 frankly that Phil Robinson was right when he said that 

 every action of the squirrel, the very whisking of its 

 tail, is an offence. I now regard Sciurus palmarum as 

 the most impudent of all " the Tribes on my Frontier." 

 I am aware that many people regard the rascality of 



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