The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1898-04-06
{GbildreD's Colump,l
were under the tree. MARY Shine, in
tho p,unuat
NV FlyinR Sqnirrela.

fndings-a mother flying squirrel
and her three baby squirrels, little
things, hardly larger than girls eye
lids, and exactly alike.
After admiring them for awhile
hastened to the shop to buy cage,
leaving my pets in paper box, through
which had riddled a number of holes,
that the squirrels might have air.
But, when the prettiest and roomiest
of cages were ready, and well supplied
with nuts and cool water, the little
creature could not be found-they
were not in the box where I had put
them.
I searched every nook and corner
Of the room, and finally opened the
top drawer of high, old-fashioned
bureau, where kept small girls
small belongings. There was no sign
Of anything unusual-no squeak, no
scamper of gray, fluffy figures. just
as was about to close the drawer, the
cover of my pasteboard ribbon box
tilted to one side, and there, motion
less as the dead, was the mother
squirrel, her babes cuddled close to
uel niue, uii husseu into oue grey
fluffy ball.
They were easily removed to the
pretty new home, and the cage door
was fastened.
The next morning the cage was
empty. The squirrels had gone.
Without waiting to dress began
search for the runaways. Every
drawer in the chamber was rumaged,
but the wise mother knew better than
to hide in drawer second time.
The waste basket I turned upside
down, the contents of my work basket
scissors, thimble, needle case, un-
finished doll clothes-were turned out
on the floor, but yet no sign of the
missing squirrels. :,
Then / tackled my bed. Lifting o
pillow, felt warmth and movement.
I stripped off the case and brought to
view the dear little fugitives.
The devoted, liberty-loving mother
had brought her babies, one by one,
from cage to pillow, creeping under
my shoulders and very face with such
gentleness that my sleep had been un-
disturbed. The innocents had not
reckoned on the morning shaking and
"airing" of pillows.
When the squirrels were once more
back in their cage L tied netting over
it, but this was n mere cobweb to the
mothers free spirit. In an hour she
was out. Then began hunt, aban-
doned and resumed, off and on, until
every drawer, every bag-holder, every
crack and crevice large enough for a
cricket's body to pass through had
been examined, and the bed had been
three times unmade, but no squirrels
were to be found. That evening L
put on my best frock, and, in pro-
viding fresh handkerchief for the
pocket, found out the hiding place
of the mischiefs. They had taken a
fancy to the pocket OF that particular
dress.
But the flying squirrel wouldn't
stay ''put." The most alluring house
that | could construct with water and
food at hand she condemned, and de-
serted for some queer thing of her own
contriving. Once the little plaques
domiciled in my slipper. Again, We
found them all in q clock that stood
high up on shelf. To this day
cannot understand how the mother
engineered her helpless family into
the closed clock case. 1t must have
been through the holes made at the
top for the weights.
But the queerest happening was in
connection with our baby's rag doll,
beauty created from q cradle pillow,
and girt about with pink sash.
1t had been sitting all morning in
its tiny chair looking on with express
for the ever missing squirrels. Our
baby came along and caught up the
rag doll in n loving embrace. Then
with flying leap out came the mother
squirrel from the rag brain. For days
the plague and the play went on, while
1 delayed the liberty had promised
my mother l would give the interest
ing wood folk. In the meantime, the
heroic, undiscouraged mother squirrel
made supreme effortto be free. Be-
fore / had discovered her absence
from the house 1 found the family in
the cleft of an apple tree, which was
attempting to climb.
At sight of the little creature under
Gods great, great dome, my heart had
a touch of pity and tenderness from
which it hasn't yet recovered.
"Oh, you darlingsl' cried. "You
are the dearest, the cunningest things
that ever were made. 1 hate to give
you up, love You so. But You love
the outdoors, and you shall never,
never be taken into the house again.
wish you would stay in this tree or
out in our nice woodpile. But go to
the woods If you would rather, and
make your own home, and do your
own nutting, and drink from the
pretty springs among the ferns and
rocks"
AndI know that the mother squirrel
and her three little children were
happier after that day, and / think
was happer, too. Sarah Winter Kel-