lie enjoys it, and shuts his eyes. The grass loop 

 is about his neck ; he discovers it, and— pull ! 

 for he leaps. If the snood does not break you 

 have him dangling in the air. Bring him to 

 your coat now, and touch him lightly till his 

 fear is dispelled, then loose him, and he will stay 

 with you for hours. 



When upon a tree you may seize him with 

 your bare hand by coming up from behind. 

 But never try to catch him by the tail ; for liz- 

 ards' tails were not made for that purpose, 

 though, from their length and convenience to 

 grasp, and from the careless way their owners 

 have of leaving them sticking out, it seems as if 

 nature intended them merely for handles. 



In my haste to catch the bobtailed lizard of 

 the rail-pile, I carelessly clapped my hand upon 

 his long, scaly tail, when, by a quick turn, he 

 mysteriously unjointed himself from it, leaving 

 the appendage with me, while he scampered off 

 along the rails. He is now growing another 

 tail for some future emergency. 



Between eating, sleeping, and dodging shad- 

 ows, the lizards spend their day, and about the 

 middle of the afternoon disappear. Where do 

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