216 NATURE-STUDY REVIEW [17:5— May, 1920 



spaces to the farthest corner of his cage were always perfectly clean. 



He had become so tame that I had grown a little careless of locks 

 and bars and was seriously planning to give my pet the freedom 

 of the porch when the fatal day arrived. The cage was on the 

 lawn at the back of the house, where Bright Eyes, as I finally 

 named him, spent the sunshiny hours of each day, when in a reck- 

 less moment I determined to give him some needed fresh water. 

 In the adjustment of door and dish the weasel simply slipped past 

 my clumsy fingers and found his liberty. Fearing a bite or even 

 more that a hasty move would startle him into actual flight, I 

 scorned coercion, hoping to lure him back with the bait of food. 

 Before executing my plan however, I turned to close a yawning 

 gate, and when I looked back my little pet was gone forever. 

 I heard of him in two adjoining chicken-yards, in one of which he 

 escaped a gun through neighborly consideration rather than by his 

 own cleverness ; but he soon went father afield, and I left his cage 

 door invitingly ajar and offered a reward for his recapture in vain. 



I have missed him with a grown-up capacity for a childish 

 affection, but it is a comfort to remember, although it makes 

 me feel colossally stupid, that even outside his cage my little wild 

 friend had absolutely no fear of me and that he strolled to liberty 

 almost across my lap, looking back in comradely fashion before he 

 plunged into the great world. 



In that unknown or at least forgotten bourne, I fear his career 

 was brief, Incapacitated by my sheltering care to face the struggle 

 for existence, his little life was doubtless short, but I hope it was a 

 merry one. I hope also, if it is not asking too much of fate, that 

 he somehow mercifully escaped fear, but that he. robbed at least 

 one chicken-roost, danced in the moonlight and won some lady 

 weasel, charming and graceful as himself, to be his bride before the 

 end. 



His little cranium had not room for many associations of mem- 

 ory, so I suppose that in the thrall of instinctive passions he quite 

 forgot our sojourn together. But for myself, whose life is longer 

 and perhaps not quite so merry, I shall always remember my little 

 wildwood visitor with a very real affection and treasure the lessons 

 of adaptability, contentment and trustfulness which he taught me. 



