ushy than that of the weasel, and always black at the tip. The
weasel is red above, and pure white underneath, and the tail is red and
uniform, being deprived of the bushy tip. Mr. Bell, from whose pages I
have taken these characters, defends weasels from the accusation of
devouring poultry, game, hares, rabbits, and various small birds. He
says, that when driven by hunger, they may occasionally eat such things;
but that their general food consists of mice and rats of every
description, the field and water vole, and moles; and that they ought
rather to be encouraged than exterminated, because they destroy so much
vermin. They generally approach with the utmost caution and shyness, and
when once they have seized their prey, they never let go their hold;
they aim at the neck, below the ear, or drive their teeth through the
back of the head: they hound and spring, and climb trees with the
greatest facility, and seem never to tire of hunting, whether they are
hungry or not. Mr. St. John saw one in a stubble field, in which
several corn buntings were flying about, or alighting on a thistle. The
animal disappeared at the foot of this thistle, and the above gentleman
thought he had slunk into a hole, but feeling sure by his manner he
intended some mischief, he stayed to watch his movements. As soon as one
of the birds settled on the thistle, something sprang up as quick as
lightning, and then disappeared with the bird; it was the weasel, who
had thus successfully concealed himself. The same gentleman chased a
weasel into a hollow tree, who carried something in her mouth. He
applied smoke to the hole, and out she came again, carrying the same
burden. She ran towards a stone-wall, but was met by a terrier, who
killed her, catching her with the greater facility in consequence of her
obstinacy in carrying away what Mr. St. John still thought was her prey.
On picking it up, however, he found that it was a young weasel, unable
to run, which its mother was endeavouring to carry to a place of safety,
her former hole in an adjoining field having been ploughed over. Another
proof of the weasel's affection for her young, was witnessed by a
labourer, who, while standing on a foot-path close to the hedge side,
perceived a weasel with one of her young ones in her mouth. He kicked
her, and she, dropping it, retreated into a hedge. He then stood over
the young one with a stick in his hand, not intending to kill it, but
merely to see how its mot