FOUR-HANDED FOLKS. 391 



dawned, and the mice retired to their holes ; Jacko awoke, 

 scratched his shivering hide, and, having pushed the tu- 

 reen, his bed, from the shelf to its utter demolition, looked 

 around for something to eat. The jam-pots attracted his 

 notice. " There is something good here," thought he as 

 he smelled the coverings. " I'll see." His sharp teeth soon 

 made an aperture : he was not disappointed. The treas- 

 ured jams — raspberry, strawberry, plum — the vaunted 

 Scotch marmalade, the candied apricots, the pride and care 

 of the cook, disappeared in an unaccountably short time 

 down into the seemingly small gullet of the sweet-toothed 

 Jacko. 



13. Not if I had a hundred mouths and a hundred 

 tongues could I describe the imprecations hurled at the de- 

 voted head of the now sick and overgorged gourmand by 

 the disappointed and illogical cook, the owner of the jams, 

 as she opened the door of the larder at breakfast-time to 

 see how many mice the monkey had caught. Great was 

 the anger of the female jailer ; great were the malicious 

 grins of the captive. 



14. Some few days after this affair Jacko, having been 

 restored to health and favor, was warming himself before 

 the kitchen fire. A cricket that had been singing merrily 

 came a little too far out on the hearth-stone. His fate was 

 sealed ; the next jump was down the throat of Jacko, who 

 munched him as an epicure does the leg of a woodcock. 

 The next tidbit was a black beetle, who ran out to secure 

 a crumb dropped from the servants' supper-table ; he, too, 

 became a victim to his rashness. Having ascertained that 

 these beetles were nuts to Jacko, I one day gave him a great 

 treat by upsetting the kitchen beetle-trap in his presence. 

 Both paws instantly went to work ; whole bunches of the 

 unfortunate insects he crammed into his cheek-pouches, 

 which served him for pockets, munching away as hard as 

 he could at the same time. His paws could not catch the 



