damp is injurious to him, and would give him stiff legs or rheumatism. During most of the day he has the run of the green-houses (in one of which his cage is kept), where he thoroughly enjoys himself, and speedily made himself a hole in a corner by the hot-water pipes.
Here he will sleep, curled up in a ball, as often as not on his head. His food is Indian corn, also wheat, barley, and all sorts of grain, and he will eat biscuits and small nuts, almonds, sultanas, etc.; but his great treat is gingerbread in any form, over which he is most desperately greedy. He will get on my shoulder, when I am sitting on the ground, in order to get a better view of any possible hiding place for the dainty, and will try and force open the tin from which he has seen me take it. The only green food I have ever been able to persuade him to eat is green peas, and these he soon became very fond of; he had to be taught to open the pods, and I shall be curious to see if he remembers this next summer, as it was evidently quite a new idea to him. He is certainly possessed of some memory, as, if taken back to a place he has not visited for many weeks, he makes at once for his old play-places, and remembers all the objects that interested him before. Though tolerably active when awake, his chief pleasure in life seems to be (next to gingercake) sleep. He is not a nocturnal animal, but is always ready for a slumber if anyone will be so kind as to place their lap at his disposal.
To see him rise from his bed in the morning with many yawns and walk all round his cage stretching himself is most ludicrous. Recently a stock dove, recovering from a broken wing, came to share 'Jacky's' greenhouse. They were both let out for a walk together. 'Jacky' stood up on his hind legs and stared long and fixedly at the new-comer. The pigeon sat sulky, and evidently thought him rude. But when 'Jacky's' curiosity led him closer, he was repulsed with loud hisses and violent pecks in his direction. Now 'Jacky' ignores the pigeon's presence, but if he goes too close the latter's wrath is instantly aroused. Altogether the fan-tailed squirrel is a most charming pet, and only needs to be wider known to become a universal favourite. He is easily tamed and very intelligent, and seems able to distinguish words to a certain extent. 'Ginger-biscuit' is the one word that will arouse him from the sweetest sleep when all other coaxings fail.
It is amusing to see the little ball suddenly uncurl at that attractive sound. He answers to his name and is fairly obedient, though he has quite sufficient sense (!) to wait till no one is looking and go back to his little sins. He never utters except to show annoyance by a squeak, or terror by a succession of sounds curiously like a fit of human sneezing."
