II. 



THE KINKAJOU AT HOME. 



On one occasion we had a guest, a lady who 

 was afraid of the queer little fellow. During 

 the night she was frightened by noises she heard 

 in the parlor, and she declared that she heard a 

 strange shuffling on the stairs, and a sniffing at 

 her door. 



I laughed at her, but when I entered the par- 

 lor I laughed no more. The room looked as 

 if a cyclone had struck it. Vases were tipped 

 over on a shelf ; various articles of bric-a-brac 

 were upset, a framed photograph thrown . down, 

 and even a framed engraving, quite heavy for 

 so small a mischief maker, was lying on the floor, 

 while books, work basket, and all small objects 

 were scattered from one end of the room to the 

 other. 



Worse still, the author of all the confusion 

 was not to be found. We searched the house 

 from attic to cellar, in every spot he could hide ; 

 under the beds, behind the bureaus, and among 

 the dresses in the closets. Fearing he had gone 

 out at an open window, we even examined the 



