er is the place of its residence; and I have
found a method of dispelling its strong smell by perfumes. By day it
sleeps in a quilt, into which it gets by an unsewn place which it has
discovered on the edge; during the night, it is kept in a wired box or
cage, which it always enters with reluctance, and leaves with pleasure.
If it be set at liberty before my time of rising, after a thousand
little playful tricks, it gets into my bed, and goes to sleep on my
hand or on my bosom.

"If I am up first, it spends a full half hour in caressing me; playing
with my fingers like a little dog, jumping on my head and on my neck,
and running round on my arms and body with a lightness and elegance
which I never found in any other animal. If I present my hands at the
distance of three feet, it jumps into them without ever missing. It
shows a great deal of address and cunning in order to compass its ends,
and seems to disobey certain prohibitions merely through caprice.
During all its actions it seems solicitous to divert, and to be
noticed; looking, at every jump, and at every turn, to see whether it
be observed or not. If no notice be taken of its gambols, it ceases
them immediately, and betakes itself to sleep; and when awakened from
the soundest sleep, it instantly resumes its gayety, and frolics about
in as sprightly a manner as before. It never shows any ill-humor,
unless when confined, or teased too much; in which case it expresses
its displeasure by a sort of murmur very different from that which it
utters when pleased. In the midst of twenty people, this little animal
distinguishes my voice, seeks me out, and springs over every body to
come to me. His play with me is the most lovely and caressing; with his
two little paws he pats me on the chin, with an air and manner
expressive of delight. This, and a thousand other preferences, show
that his attachment is real.

"When he sees me dressed to go out, he will not leave me, and it is not
without some trouble that I can disengage myself from him. He then
hides himself behind a cabinet near the door, and jumps upon me, as I
pass, with so much celerity, that I often can scarcely perceive him. He
seems to resemble a squirrel in vivacity, agility, voice, and his
manner of murmuring. During the summer he squeaks and runs all the
night long; and since the commencement of the cold weather, I have not
observed this. Sometimes, when the sun shines while he is playing on
the bed, he turns