finds himself in such a position, and knows how to avail himself of the means around him, will welcome every flake that falls, and instead of looking upon the snow as an enemy whose white arms are ready to inclose him in a fatal embrace, he hails the soft masses as a means of affording him warmth and safety.

Choosing some spot where the snow lies deepest, such as the side of a bank or a tree, or a large stone, he scoops out with his hands a hollow in which he can lie, and wherein he is sheltered from the freezing blasts that scud over the land. Wrapping himself in his garments, he burrows his way as deeply as he can, and then lies quietly, allowing the snow to fall upon him unheeded. The extemporized cell in which he reclines soon begins to show its virtues. The substance in which it is hollowed is a very imperfect conductor of heat, so that the traveler

finds that the caloric exhaled from his body is no longer swept off by the wind, but is conserved around him, and restores warmth and sensation to his limbs. The hollow enlarges slightly as the body becomes warm, and allows its temporary inhabitant to sink deeper into the snow, while the fast falling flakes rapidly cover him, and obliterate the traces of his presence.

There is no fear that he should be stifled for want of air, for the warmth of his breath always keeps a small passage open, and the snow, instead of becoming a thick uniform sheet of white substance, is broken by a little hole round which is collected a mass of glittering hoar-frost, caused by the congelation of the breath. There is no fear now of perishing by frost, for the snow-cell is rather too hot than too cold, and the traveler can sleep as warmly, if not as composedly, as in his bed at home.

The reader may possibly remember that, even in the British Islands, the snow-bed is almost annually brought into requisition.

The use of snow as a warm mantle to protect the young crops from the frost is familiar to all. Some of us have seen, and we have nearly all read of, the wonderful scenes that take place among the Scottish mountains, where the snow-drifts are heaped like white hills by the wayward tempest, taking all kinds of fantastic forms, and scooped into bays, and precipices, and craggy mountains, with outlines as bold and sharp as if cut in unyielding granite. After such storms as raise these strange mockeries of rugged landscape, whole flocks of sheep are missing, and must be sought by the shepherd and his faithful dog.

As the two allies press onward in their quest, they walk at random, for the snow masses have swept over hill and dale, have obliterated all the well-known landmarks, raised hills where hollows had been, and have changed the face of nature. Left to himself the shepherd would scarcely discover a single sheep, and in all probability would find himself in the very predicament from which he seeks to rescue his woolly charge. Were it not for the fine instincts of the quadruped many a flock would be lost, for the dog sniffs and runs about, and raises his nose in the air as the well-known odor salutes his nostrils, and finally dashes forward and comes to a stand-still over a little hole in the snow, around which is gathered a slight incrustation of hoarfrost. This is a sure indication that the sheep are below and still living, and then the shepherd breaks through the roof of the snowy cell with

his pole, and rescues the starving animals from their perilous position.

The sheep which are thus preserved from the effects of the cold do not voluntarily burrow into the snow. They are not intended to pass a large portion of their lives in a subnivean abode, and their presence under the snow is quite accidental. Striving to avoid the chilling blasts of the wind, they crowd toward any object that may shelter them from the cruel tempest, and while huddled together, the snow-drifts are heaped around them, and cover them effectually. Under such circumstances they often die of starvation if they are left undiscovered for too long a period, after having nibbled all the wool from each others' backs.

But the WHITE BEAR intentionally places herself in such a position, and toward the month of December retreats to the side of a rock, where, by dint of scraping, and allowing the snow to fall upon her, she forms a cell in which to reside during the period of her accouchement. Within this strange nursery she produces her young, and remains with them beneath the snow until the month of March, when she emerges into the outer air, bringing with her the baby bears, who are then about as large as ordinary rabbits. As the time passes on, the breath of the family, together with the warmth exhaled from their bodies, serves to enlarge the cell, so that in proportion with their increasing dimensions, the accommodation is increased to suit them., As is the case with the snow-covered sheep, the hidden Bear may be discovered by means of the little hole which is made by the warm breath, and is rendered more distinguishable by the hoarfrost which collects around it.

This curious abode is not sought by every Polar Bear. None of the males trouble themselves to spend so much time in a state of seclusion; and as the only use of the retreat is to shelter the young, the unmarried females roam freely about during the winter months. The habit of partial hibernation is common to most, if not to all true Bears, and we find that the White Bear of the Polar regions, the Brown Bear of Europe, and the Black Bear of Northern America, agree in this curious habit. Before retiring into winter quarters, the Bear eats enormously, and, driven by an unfailing instinct, resorts to the most nutritious diet, so that it becomes prodigiously fat. In this condition it is in the best state for killing, as the fur partakes of the general fullness of

the body, and becomes thick and sleek, as is needful when we consider the task which it has to perform.

During the three months of her seclusion, the Polar Bear takes no food, but exists upon the store of fat which has been accumulated before retiring to her winter home. A similar phenomenon may be observed in many of the hibernating animals, but in the Bear it is more remarkable from the fact that she has not only to support her own existence, but to impart nourishment to her offspring. It is true, that in order to enable them to find sufficient food, they are of wonderfully small dimensions when compared with the parent; but the fact remains, that the animal is able to lay up within itself so large a store of nutriment that it can maintain its own life and suckle its young for a space of three months without taking a morsel of food.

It is worthy of notice, also, that in the Bears of the Old as well as the New World, is found the curious phenomenon of the "tappen," a hard concreted substance, which plugs up the intestine, and seems to be of service in retaining the animal in condition. In Scandinavia, where the Bears of both sexes retire to winter quarters, and remain in their hidden recesses for five full months, the tappen is very seldom cast until the animal leaves its den. In the rare instances where such an event has happened, the Bear is said to have become miserably thin and weak. Full particulars of the tappen and the hibernating habits of the Brown Bear may be found in Lloyd's "Field Sports of Northern Europe."

THERE are other animals which burrow under the snow, though they do so for the sake of finding food, and not of forming a habitation. Several of the Arvicolæ, or field-mice of North America, are in the habit of driving long tunnels under the snow in search of food, and are so successful in this curious mode of foraging that they in general become quite fat during the winter months, when every green leaf has fallen, and every herb is covered with a thick mantle of snow.

FROM a work of this character, so remarkable an animal as the PICHICIAGO ought not to be omitted. Its scientific name is Chlamyphorus truncatus, and is very happily chosen, as will presently be seen.

The Pichiciago is not larger than an ordinary mole, and in its

general habits somewhat resembles that animal. The shape of its body sufficiently indicates its burrowing propensities, and the view of the skeleton confirms the aspect of its outward form. The bones of the fore legs are short, thick, and arched in that manner which is so indicative of great muscular power, and even those of the hind legs are remarkably strong in proportion to the size of the animal. The fore paws are enormously large, palmshaped, and furnished with five strong, curved, and compressed claws, so as to form admirable digging instruments. The snout is rather long and pointed, and, as in the mole, the eyes are very small, and hidden under the soft dense fur.

It is a native of Chili, and seems to be of rare occurrence, though it may probably be more plentiful than is generally imagined, its subterranean habits and timid nature seldom permitting it to be seen. Like the mole, it lives beneath the earth, scooping out long galleries in the soil, and probably feeding upon insects like the rest of the edentate animals.