Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/103

90 frog was sitting upon the snake with every appearance of contentment, and had been sitting there some time; when, suddenly, with one sweep of the neck as rapid as lightning, the snake snapped up its living victim, and swallowed it before I had time to avert my eyes. This was quite enough. I had the cage placed in the garden, with the door always open, and after a few days the snake disappeared.

A far more agreeable pet than the snake, though still one at which some persons pretended to shudder, was a tame weazel, which succeeded in making friends with the whole family. I had no idea that such a thing could be tamed, at least made so tame. It was very young, and half-dead when brought to me, scarcely so large as a walnut when coiled up. I fed it with milk from a quill, and as soon as I considered it old enough to take care of itself, I took it into a grass field, where I thought it would be safe from harm, and where I had no doubt it would be delighted to be set free. Instead of this, I found the little creature perfectly terrified, and so anxious not to be left, that it pursued my retreating feet with the most piteous cries. The idea had never occurred to me that I could myself be an object of affection to this small animal; yet true it was, my careful nursing had produced the effect of rendering it unwilling to be deserted by me; and from that time we entered into a mutually understood engagement to be all to each other that a weazel and a human being could be. For some days afterwards I repeated the experiment, merely to test the reality of my little friend’s attachment, and always with the same result. It had no sense of safety but with me, and no wish to be elsewhere; so I prepared for its accommodation as an inmate of the family, and it soon became an universal favourite.

Remembering what all the weazel tribe can be when assailed or injured, some persons would be disgusted at the idea of such a household guest. But it should be borne in mind, that the means of defence which nature has given to these animals, and which renders them so offensive when worried by dogs, or otherwise wounded, has nothing whatever to do with their quiescent condition; so that, if kindly treated, and made healthy and happy, the weazel is as cleanly and delicate an animal as the squirrel, or any other of our accustomed pets. I think mine was more so; for never was a speck to be seen on its snow-white breast, nor was its soft silky coat ever ruffled.

I soon found that my weazel was not only an affectionate, but most amusing companion, its gambols rapid and graceful in the extreme. Like other favourites, it was addicted to taking liberties, and if I was busy and would not play, nothing was left untried to attract my attention. Summersets were performed upon the table where I was writing, the end of my pen and even my nose were bitten; and not until the rapid little feet, dipped in ink, had made stars all over my paper, and I was compelled to enforce a retreat, would my companion cease from its antics. It would be impossible to describe the beauty and the grace of this little creature while performing its varied evolutions, or the rapidity with which it would dart from one part of the room to another, always most animated in the dusk of the evening, or, as I fancied, when moonlight shone into the room; yet all the while so timid, that if a stranger entered it was still in a moment, perhaps curled up like a ball in some fold of my dress, or hiding in its accustomed place of safety, the hollow of my hand. This was its habit, too, when tired with play; and not unfrequently when I rested on the sofa, it would roll itself into a flattened ball immediately under my cheek. It was always most timid out of doors, and would manage to follow me, usually with an appearance of distress, even when I walked about the garden amongst grass and shrubs, which I supposed might have concealed me from its view. Nor was it to myself alone that this little creature showed attachment. All the family shared in its affection; even with children it was docile, playful, and perfectly harmless; but, as already said, if a strange gentleman or lady entered the parlour, even in its gayest moments, it was gone in an instant into some hiding-place where it was not always easily found.

After many months of this pleasant intercourse, I had occasion to make a journey to a distant part of the country, and decided upon taking my weazel with me. We travelled in a chaise, and the little creature was so annoyed at its confinement in a box, as well as at the constant motion, that it spent the greatest pant of the time in a most disgraceful state of raving passion, screaming and tearing at the bars which held it in as well as gave space for air. In this condition of things, I must confess that the box which I had done my best to render airy and comfortable, was far from resembling a bed of violets. I shall never forget the effect it produced upon the countenance of the head-waiter at one of those old-fashioned, well-appointed inns where we stopped one day to dine. With the utmost politeness he had ushered us into the house. With equal politeness he was fetching in the articles we had left in the carriage, the weazel amongst the rest. It was screaming and tearing with passion just under the nose of this solemn-looking waiter, whose face, that seemed as if it had never smiled, wore an expression of such ineffable disgust, that I was obliged to turn away, quite unable even to apologise for the behaviour of my little companion.

This was a fatal journey to my poor weazel, so far at least as our intercourse was concerned. The house to which it was transferred was situated in a town, with a garden protected by high walls. Alarmed at the sight of so many strange people and things, the weazel became more wild, and one day disappeared never to return. We supposed it had run up the garden wall, and, becoming frightened, had escaped on the opposite side.

After this I tried the taming of more than one animal of the same species, but never with the same results. I found them all very different from my first pet, in character and disposition. One I succeeded in taming, but it seldom played, and afforded but little entertainment. Another caused me such serious alarm, that I never made the experiment with a weazel again. I had had it some time, and supposed it to be quite harmless;