My uncle had a tame chitmunk that was much attached to
him; it lived in his pocket or bosom; it was his companion by day and by
night. When he was out in the forest lumbering, or on the lake fishing, or
in the fields at work, it was always with him. At meals it sat by the side
of his plate, eating what he gave it; but he did not give it meat, as he
thought that might injure its health. One day he and his pet were in the
steam-boat, going to Toronto. He had been showing off the little
chitmunk's tricks to the ladies and gentlemen on board the boat, and
several persons offered him money if he would sell it; but my uncle was
fond of the little thing, and would not part with it. However, just before
he left the boat, he missed his pet; for a cunning Yankee pedlar on board
had stolen it. My uncle knew that his little friend would not desert its
old master; so he went on deck where the passengers were assembled, and
whistled a popular tune familiar to the chitmunk. The little fellow, on
hearing it, whisked out of the pedlar's pocket, and running swiftly along
a railing against which he was standing, soon sought refuge his master's
bosom."
Lady Mary clapped her hands with joy, and said, "I am so glad, nurse, that
the chitmunk ran back to his old friend.
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