IN THE CATSKILLS 



manoeuvring carefully and deliberately to extricate 

 his foot from the grasp of the naughty jaws. Do 

 not by any means take pity on him, and lend a 

 helping hand! 



How pretty his face and head! How fine and 

 delicate his teeth, like a weasel's or a cat's! When 

 about a third grown, he looks so well that one cov- 

 ets him for a pet. He is quite precocious, however, 

 and capable, even at this tender age, of making a 

 very strong appeal to your sense of smell. 



No animal is more cleanly in his habits than he. 

 He is not an awkward boy who cuts his own face 

 with his whip; and neither his flesh nor his fur 

 hints the weapon with which he is armed. The 

 most silent creature known to me, he makes no 

 sound, so far as I have observed, save a diffuse, 

 impatient noise, like that produced by beating your 

 hand with a whisk-broom, when the farm-dog has 

 discovered his retreat in the stone fence. He ren- 

 ders himself obnoxious to the farmer by his par- 

 tiality for hens' eggs and young poultry. He is a 

 confirmed epicure, and at plundering hen-roosts an 

 expert. Not the full-grown fowls are his victims, 

 but the youngest and most tender. At night Mother 

 Hen receives under her maternal wings a dozen 

 newly hatched chickens, and with much pride and 

 satisfaction feels them all safely tucked away in her 

 feathers. In the morning she is walking about dis- 

 consolately, attended by only two or three of all 

 24 



