r them, and next day not a vestige of the nests was to be seen;
they had gone downstream, as had many other dwellings of a less
temporary character. The rats had built wisely, and would have been
perfectly secure against any ordinary high water, but who can foresee a
flood? The oldest traditions of their race did not run back to the time
of such a visitation.

Nearly a week afterward another dwelling was begun, well away from the
treacherous channel, but the architects did not work at it with much
heart; the material was very scarce, the ice hindered, and before the
basement-story was fairly finished, winter had the pond under his lock
and key.

In other localities I noticed that where the nests were placed on the
banks of streams, they were made secure against the floods by being
built amid a small clump of bushes. When the fall of 1879 came, the
muskrats were very tardy about beginning their house, laying the
cornerstone--or the corner-sod--about December 1, and continuing the
work slowly and indifferently. On the 15th of the month the nest was not
yet finished. "Maybe," I said, "this indicates a mild winter;" and, sure
enough, the season was one of the mildest known for many years. The rats
had little use for their house.

[Illustration: MUSKRAT]

Again, in the fall of 1880, while the weather-wise were wagging their
heads, some forecasting a mild, some a severe winter, I watched with
interest for a sign from my muskrats. About November 1, a month earlier
than the previous year, they began their nest, and worked at it with a
will. They appeared to have just got tidings of what was coming. If I
had taken the hint so palpably given, my celery would not have been
frozen up in the ground, and my apples caught in unprotected places.
When the cold wave struck us, about November 20, my four-legged "I
told-you-so's" had nearly completed their dwelling; it lacked only the
ridge-board, so to speak; it needed a little "topping out," to give it a
finished look. But this it never got. The winter had come to stay, and
it waxed more and more severe, till the unprecedented cold of the last
days of December must have astonished even the wise muskrats in their
snug retreat. I approached their nest at this time, a white mound upon
the white, deeply frozen surface of the pond, and wondered if there was
any life in that apparent sepulchre. I thrust my walking-stick sharply
into it, when there was a rustle and a splash into the water,