trides. That is when they travel openly; but
they have hidden passages and winding galleries under the snow,
which undoubtedly are their main avenues of communication. Here and
there these passages rise so near the surface as to be covered by
only a frail arch of snow, and a slight ridge betrays their course
to the eye. I know him well. He is known to the farmer as the "deer
mouse," to the naturalist as the white-footed mouse,--a very
beautiful creature, nocturnal in his habits, with large ears, and
large, fine eyes, full of a wild, harmless look. He is daintily
marked, with white feet and a white belly. When disturbed by day he
is very easily captured, having none of the cunning or viciousness
of the common Old World mouse.

It is he who, high in the hollow trunk of some tree, lays by a store
of beechnuts for winter use. Every nut is carefully shelled, and the
cavity that serves as storehouse lined with grass and leaves. The
wood-chopper frequently squanders this precious store. I have seen
half a peck taken from one tree, as clean and white as if put up by
the most delicate hands,--as they were. How long it must have taken
the little creature to collect this quantity, to hull them one by
one, and convey them up to his fifth-story chamber! He is not
confined to the woods, but is quite as common in the fields,
particularly in the fall, amid the corn and potatoes. When routed by
the plow, I have seen the old one take flight with half a dozen
young hanging to her teats, and with such reckless speed that some
of the young would lose their hold and fly off amid the weeds.
Taking refuge in a stump with the rest of her family, the anxious
mother would presently come back and hunt up the missing ones.

The snow-walkers are mostly night-walkers also, and the record they
leave upon the snow is the main clew one has to their life and
doings. The hare is nocturnal in its habits, and though a very
lively creature at night, with regular courses and run-ways through
the wood, is entirely quiet by day. Timid as he is, he makes little
effort to conceal himself, usually squatting beside a log, stump, or
tree, and seeming to avoid rocks and ledges where he might be
partially housed from the cold and the snow, but where also--and
this consideration undoubtedly determines his choice--he would be
more apt to fall a prey to his enemies. In this, as well as in many
other respects, he differs from the rabbit proper: he never burrows
in the