THE KINKAJOU. 



3 



First, of course, I must have a cage, and this 

 is what I planned, and had made. A tight box 

 two feet square, of half-inch boards, with the 

 whole front open. Over this open side a door 

 of coarse-meshed wire gauze slid up. and down. 

 The bottom of the box was furnished with a 

 zinc tray, with edges an inch high, on the top 

 of which rested a slide of the same coarse wire 

 gauze, and in the upper back corner was nailed 

 a round wooden spicebox. I describe it thus 

 carefully, to show my readers how easily a little 

 beast may be accommodated in a parlor, and 

 with how little care kept clean and sweet. 



The wire floor, of course, let everything fall 

 through into the tray under it, and thus the little 

 fellow's fur was beautifully clean. To put the 

 whole thing in order for the day was the work 

 of five minutes. The zinc tray — on the bottom 

 of which was always a sheet of newspaper — was 

 drawn out, the newspaper carpet with its con- 

 tents dumped bodily into the ash barrel, the 

 tray held a moment under the hot-water faucet 

 in the laundry, and thoroughly scalded. It was 

 then dried, a fresh sheet of paper laid in it, and 

 returned to the cage. All this in the morning, 

 while the resident of the cage was rolled up in 

 his blankets fast asleep, and thus it was left 

 fresh and nice for the day. 



He was a cold little beastie, and I feared at 



