She never could seem to get used to them; her opportunities went for nothing.

And she was always cold toward bats, too, and could not bear them; and yet I think a bat is as friendly a bird as there is.

My mother was Aunt Patsy's sister, and had the same wild superstitions.

A bat is beautifully soft and silky: I do not know any creature that is pleasanter to the touch, or is more grateful for caressings, if offered in the right spirit.

I know all about these coleoptera, because our great cave, three miles below Hannibal, was multitudinously stocked with them, and often I brought them home to amuse my mother with.