not only by them, but by a
sort of degenerated cockroach, descended from the better conditioned
Blattae, brought in my packages from a tropical country, and which had
resisted all efforts for their extermination, such as boiling water,
pepper, arsenic-wafers, mortar, etc. At last, a friend, whose house had
been cleared of beetles by a hedgehog, made the animal over to me, very
much to the discomfort of my cook, to whom it was an object of terror.
The first night of its arrival a bed was made for it in a hamper, half
full of hay, and a saucer of milk was set within. The next morning the
hedgehog had disappeared, and for several days the search made for it
was fruitless. That it was alive was proved by the milk being drunk out
of the saucer in which it was placed. One night I purposely went into
the kitchen after the family had been for some time in bed, and, as I
opened the door, I saw the little creature slink into a hole under the
oven attached to the grate. Fearing this would sometimes prove too hot
for it, I had some bricks put in to fill up the aperture. The next night
the bricks were pulled away, and overturned, evincing a degree of
strength which astonished us; but, after that, we left the animal to its
own care. The beetles and cockroaches visibly disappeared, but as they
disappeared other things also vanished; kitchen cloths left to dry at
night were missing; then, a silk handkerchief. At last a night-cap left
on the dresser was gone; and these abstractions were most mysterious.
The next day there was a general search in possible and impossible
places, and the end of a muslin string was seen in the oven-hole; it was
seized on, and not only was the night-cap dragged out, but all the
missing and not missing articles which the hedgehog had purloined; most
of them were much torn, and it was supposed that the poor beast had
taken possession of them to make a soft bed. I have not seen such a
propensity noticed elsewhere, and it may be a useful hint to those who
keep hedgehogs. All endeavours to make this animal friendly were
unavailing; but I am told, that hedgehogs are frequently quite
domesticated; and even shew a degree of affection.

Dr. Buckland ascertained the manner in which hedgehogs kill snakes; they
make a sudden attack on the reptile, give it a fierce bite, and then,
with the utmost dexterity, roll themselves up so as to present nothing
but spines when the snake retaliates. They repeat this manoeuvre several