a "Mountain Devil" heads the list of all our Australian pets. His tail (for a domestic animal acquires a personality that rises above the neuter gender) being so rough with thorns afforded a capital holding-place for the string by which we tethered him in the garden, choosing a sandy spot where he could find plenty of ants for food; but we soon found that we must protect him by a wire dish-cover, as the cat was remarkably fond of sitting near him and examining him, and we thought that her curiosity was not altogether of a disinterested sort. I confess that I always avoided any care of him that involved personal contact, though so well convinced of his harmlessness, and when evening came and our pet had to be untethered and put to sleep in a basket lined with wool, like a child in its cot, it was my husband and not myself who carried him to his bed.
It did not seem right to have a pet without a name, or, what was as bad, with a name unfit for daily use owing to its diabolical character; so my husband pitched upon "Timothy" as an improvement; not that we ever expected him to come at call, but to satisfy our feeling of what was due to a creature now established as one of the family circle. I must own that the undemonstrative tone of Timothy's disposition was a hindrance to intimacy on my part, especially as I did not share in my husband's desire to learn as much as possible about the animal's habits. He would lie placidly on the palm of a familiar hand, showing no wish to get away; he would stand upon the table most obligingly whilst coloured sketches were taken of him; but nothing ever seemed to make him especially glad or sorry, and we could not determine whether his
