The most attractive and sociable pet among wild creatures of its size I have found to be a coon. One which when I was a boy I brought up from the time it was very young, was as playful and affectionate as any little dog, and used its little black paws just as if they were hands. Coons, by the way, sometimes appear in political campaigns. Frequently when I have been on the stump in places where there was still a strong tradition of the old Whig party as it was in the days of Henry Clay and Tippecanoe Harrison, I have reviewed processions in which log cabins and coons were prominent features. The log cabins were usually miniature representations, mounted on wheels, but the coons were genuine. Each was usually carried by some enthusiast, who might lead it by a chain and collar, but more frequently placed it upon a platform at the end of a pole, chained up short. Most naturally the coon protested violently against the proceedings; his only satisfaction being the certainty that every now and then some other parader would stumble near enough to be bitten. At one place an admirer suddenly presented me with one of these coons and was then swept on in the crowd; leaving me gingerly holding by the end of a chain an exceedingly active and short-tempered little beast, which I had not the slightest idea how to dispose of. On two other occasions, by the way, while off on campaign trips I was presented with bears. These I firmly refused to receive. One of them was brought to a platform by an old mountain hunter who, I am afraid, really had his feelings hurt by the refusal. The other bear made his appearance at Portland, Ore., and, of all places, was chained on top of a wooden platform just aft the smokestack of an engine, the engine being festooned with American flags. He belonged to the fireman, who had brought him as a special gift; I being an honorary member of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen. His owner explained that normally he was friendly; but the surroundings had curdled his temper. Usually birds are very regular in their habits, so that not only the same species but the same individuals breed in the same places year after year. In spite of their wings they are almost as local as mammals and the same pair will usually keep to the same immediate neighborhood, where they can always be looked for in their season. There are wooded or brush-grown swampy places not far from the White House where in the spring or summer I can count with certainty upon seeing wrens, chats, and the ground-loving Kentucky warbler, an attractive little bird, which, by the way, itself looks much like a miniature chat. There are other places, in the neighborhood of Rock Creek, where I can be almost certain of finding the blue-gray gnatcatcher, which ranks just next to the humming-bird itself in exquisite daintiness and delicacy. The few pairs of mocking-birds around Washington have just as sharply defined haunts.