POTTO. Ill 



As the sMp upon which he had embarked for Eng- 

 land left the warm climate of Africa and met chilling 

 breezes from the north, Mr. Bartlett saw that his 

 little charge snfiered from the cold, and tried to think 

 of some way to keep him warm and comfortable. 

 After trying various plans without much success, an 

 old nursery rhyme he had heard when a child oc- 

 curred to him : 



By Baby Bunting, 

 Papa's gone a-hunting, 

 To get a little rabbit skin 

 To wrap his Baby Bunting in. 



" Just the thing ! " said Mr. Bartlett, and straight- 

 way he had a cunning little bag made of hare skins 

 with the fur inside. In this snug nest potto slept 

 most of the time, and, in order to make sure he was 

 warm enough, a baby dog, older than potto, was put 

 into the bag to keep him company. When the puppy 

 had to go to its mother, another was put in its place. 

 Potto clung to the puppies as closely as he would have 

 clung to a mother if he had had one, hugging them 

 so tightly that the doggies did not quite like it. This 

 nursing, however, did well, and potto grew strong 

 and healthy, and was, on the whole, good tempered. 

 He slept all day perched on a door, but at night he 

 would come down and wander about the room. He 

 would not eat bread and milk, but would feed on pine- 

 apples and bananas and water. Although there were 

 often insects in the room, which had flown in at the 

 window, potto would not touch them, but one day he 

 was found busy dining on a tray of preserved beetles. 



