THE YOUTH'’S CABINET.

97

 

Dick, the Squirrel.

nr, Eprror,—When I was a lad

of twelve, my father took

me with him on a summer

tour through Western New-

York. On our return, stopping in
Rochester, as we walked through the
streets, a splendid squirrel caught my
eye, as he was merrily turning the wheel
of his cage. I besought my father to
purchase him ; for my heart had for some
time been set upon such a possession.
He did so; and we bore the squirrel
away in triumph, by stage and steam-
boat, to New-York. He was called Dick,
was perfectly tame, allowed me to pull
his mouth open, to show his long, sharp
teeth to visitors, and was in all respects
a remarkable animal. He had, much of
the time, free range of the house; and
such antics as he used to cut up in the
parlor, were never surpassed by quad-
ruped, or biped either, for that matter.
At night, he slept in bed with myself
and brother. That he was a great pet,
you may well suppose. A few months
passed along, and the mournful 9th of
October, 1834, arrived, when, on my re-
turn from school, I learned, amid gen-

mitted.

 

eral weeping, that poor Dick had run out
of the front door into the street, where

a dog immediately seized and killed him.

A friend, who then resided in the family,

composed the following appropriate lines

on the occasion, which are herewith sub-

w. W. P.
Hartrorp, Cr.

LINES ON THE DEATH OF A PET SQUIRREL.

Poor Richard Dick is dead and buried,

And o’er the Styx is safely ferried ;

A wicked dog poor Richard worried,
And from this world of acorns hurried.

He was not thinking of his doom,

But crack’d his nuts in William’s room:
Alas! poor squirrels only know

The trees where nuts and acorns grow.

But Dick desired to see the city,

Like many who deserve our pity ;

The moment Dick the threshold pass’,
I weep to say, was Dicky’s last.

Poor Dick would play till almost frantie—
His tricks were queer, his movements antic ;
Was wont to tear the chimney paper,

And cut up many a wicked caper.

He wore a coat of sable color ;

Oh. how he’d chase around the parlor,
And often try, but always fail,

To overtake his bushy tail.