to be carried off by the numerous vagabonds who turn a dishonest penny by dog-stealing. His orders are, that he is not to go into the road on any pretext whatever, and, as a necessary consequence, he is always burning to do so. Therefore, I keep a watch upon him, and as soon as he pushes his way under the gate, he gets such a shower of swan-shot about his ears that he yelps in sudden terror, and dives back again. On such occasions he always comes up to me, as if to report himself, and I always pat him and pretend to know nothing about his intended escapade.

It is through the neglect of this simple principle that so many animals are made savage, or sulky, or stupid, by the clownswhether in fustian or broadcloth-who have the charge of them. They lay down certain arbitrary rules of their own, neglect to teach these rules to the poor animals, and then ill-treat them because they break the laws which have never been taught to them. Farm labourers are, as a body, continually committing this error, and it is to their mingled ignorance and obstinacy that the savage nature of so many animals is due. A horse, for example, strays into some spot where he has no business, and is immediately chased, and shouted at, and pelted with stones, and struck with the first weapon that can be seized. Or he turns his head to the right instead of the left, and straightway is "chucked" by the bridle, and kicked, and anathematized with that copious flow of foul language with which our unsophisticated rural swains are so amply supplied.

Now the horse does not in the least know why he is thus maltreated. He is unconscious of error, and can only attribute the pain which he suffers to the arbitrary and inscrutable will of the being whom he hates, but is mysteriously forced to obey. He knows not that he has broken any law, or disobeyed any command, and, in consequence, will probably repeat the offence, and so earn the character of an obstinate and disobedient beast. If he be a horse of some spirit (and such an animal is always the best servant when properly treated), he will resent the injustice of which he is the victim, and bring hoofs or teeth to bear upon his tormentor, thus earning the character of a savage as well as an obstinate brute. So it happens, that a fine animal, which would have cheerfully laboured with all his vast strength in the service of man, is prevented from assuming his rightful place as

a humble friend and servant, and is converted into a trembling slave or a dangerous foe. Those who trained him have not identified themselves with him.

So it is with the study of zoology; and the only method of gaining a true insight into the motives of animals, and of identifying ourselves with them, is to put ourselves, as far as possible, in their condition, and to think how we should act under the circumstances, were our instincts as powerful and our reason as weak as theirs.

NORTH AMERICA is peculiarly rich in burrowing animals belonging to this order-so rich, indeed, that many curious species must be omitted for lack of space.

Among these burrowers, the CHIPPING SQUIRREL, or HACKEE, or CHIPMUCK (Tamias Lysteri), is peculiarly conspicuous. It is a very pretty little creature, brownish grey in colour, with five

stripes of black and two of pale yellow drawn along the back; so that it cannot be mistaken for any other animal. Below, and on the throat, it is a pure snowy white. These are the normal hues of the fur; but it is somewhat variable in point of colour, the grey and yellow being sometimes quite superseded by the black.

The burrow of the Chipping Squirrel is rather complicated in structure, and is always made under the shelter of a wall, an old tree, or a bank. The hole descends almost perpendicularly for nearly a yard, and then makes several devious windings in a slightly ascending direction. Two or three supplementary galleries are driven from the principal burrow, and by means of them the animal is able to escape almost any foe. The stoat, however, cannot be deceived by this complicated arrangement of tunnels, but winds its lithe body through all the deviating passages, and kills every Chipping Squirrel which it finds. One of these bloodthirsty weasels has been known to enter the burrow of a Chipping Squirrel, and in a short time to leave it, having in the space of a very few minutes killed six victims, a mother and five young, whose lifeless bodies were found in the nursery when the burrow was opened.

The nest is made of dried leaves of various kinds, and in it the mother and her offspring can rest in security from all ordinary foes. Owing to the complexity of the burrow, no little skill is required to trace its various windings, and much exertion is needed before they can all be laid bare.

Within this burrow, the Chipping Squirrel lays up a wonderfully large store of food. It is, in fact, a perfect miser in respect of provisions, gathering and secreting much more than it can possibly eat, and never seeming to be satisfied so long as another acorn or nut can be obtained. The common beaked nut (Corylus rostrata) is a favourite article of food, and lest the sharp beak should hurt its mouth, the Chipping Squirrel takes care to bite off the beak before putting the nut into the ample cheek-pouches with which it is furnished. It is able to carry four nuts at a time, three being held in the mouth and the fourth between the teeth. When thus laden, it presents a most absurd aspect, its cheeks being so puffed out with its treasure, that it reminds the classical observer of Alemæon in the treasury of Croesus. Unclassical observers may be reminded of a man suffering from a severe attack of

mumps.

The provisions are stored in the lateral galleries, and are of a very mixed nature, so as to afford variety in diet to the animal. In one burrow were discovered two quarts of buckwheat, some grass seeds, nearly a peck of acorns, some Indian corn, and a quart of the beaked nuts already mentioned.

The popular names of Chipping Squirrel and Chipmuck are given to this little animal on account of its cry, which sounds like the chirping of young chickens. It is a quick, lively little creature, ever on the move, and delighting to dart in and out of the dense underwood.

THE WOODCHUCK (Arctomys monax) is another well-known burrower of America. On account of its whistling cry, it is called SIFFLEUR by the French; and its peculiar form has earned for it the somewhat inappropriate title of GROUND HOG.

The burrow of the Woodchuck is rather long, running to a distance of twenty or thirty feet from the entrance, which is almost invariably placed under the shelter of a projecting rock, or on the side of a hill. It descends obliquely for a few feet, and then rises gradually towards the surface of the ground. At the extremity of the burrow is placed the nest, which is a rounded chamber of considerable dimensions. Here the young Woodchucks are born, and here they remain until they are about five months old, when they separate from each other, and begin an independent existence, each digging a small hole about a yard in depth. Many of these little burrows are made and left unoccupied. Digging out Woodchucks is a favourite amusement with boys.

OUR next example is the CANADA POUCHED RAT (Pseudostoma bursarius), sometimes called the GOPHER, or MULO.

This remarkable animal drives burrows of very great extent, and whenever it gains admission into a garden, it works much damage to the roots of the plants. Every root that crosses the tunnel the Pouched Rat will eat; and not only herbs and flowers, but even fruit trees of many years' growth have been killed by this destructive animal. In such cases, the extremity of the burrow is always to be found among the roots of some tree, which act at the same time as a defence and a larder; for

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the Rat hides itself under their protection, and eats away their tender shoots.

Like the mole, the Gopher throws up little hillocks at irregular intervals, sometimes twenty or thirty feet apart, and sometimes crowded closely together. The nest of the Gopher is made in a burrow constructed expressly for the purpose, and is placed in a small globular chamber about eight inches in diameter. The bed on which the mother and her young repose

is made of dried herbage and fur plucked from the body. This chamber is the point from which a great number of passages radiate, and from these other tunnels are driven. These radiating burrows evidently serve two purposes, enabling the animal to escape in any direction when alarmed, and serving to conduct it to its feeding grounds.

In two instances where the Gophers had entered a garden, their tunnels were traced throughout the greater part of their extent, and were found to be driven at an average depth of a foot or eighteen inches below the surface, except when they