324 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



molars, and those in the upper jaw have two tubercles." The word 

 sigmadont means sigma-toothed, from a marking on the enamel, re- 

 sembling the Greek letter sigma, which really would be like our own 

 letter S, if the latter were made by uniting two angles, instead of two 

 curves. 



The writer has elsewhere expressed his belief that among the Ro- 

 dents is a good deal of latent or undeveloped musical capacity. The 

 squeal of the frightened rabbit is musical ; while the whistle of the 

 woodchuck enlivens its burrow with its homely, merry little sound. 



That our little cosmopolite, the Old- World mouse, whom Linnaeus, 

 on account of its smallness among its fellows, named Mus museulus, 

 has achieved some distinction in the musical line, almost everybody 

 knows. Indeed, these musical house-mice are almost ceasing to be 

 uncommon. Even his less graceful, big relative, the rat, has tried his 

 hand at the pipes, and not wholly without success. And, among these 

 little erratics, some have been known that might be called more com- 

 ical than entertaining certain eccentrics, known as hiccoughing- 

 mice. But these and the above are all, wherever found, directly or 

 indirectly, of the Old-World race. That any New-World species had 

 done auQ-lit of this sort was to naturalists unknown. A late friend of 

 ours had a domestic mouse " a singer, that is," as the old man said 

 " not much, but it would whistle a little chirrup, you know." 

 Now, it happened that, one day, our friend caught two wood-mice, real 

 natives delicate, white-footed things, that looked too innocent to do 

 any thing else than step mincingly around in their delicate white-satin 

 slippers. So they were put into the cage with the singing-mouse. 

 Whether, like some other folks, they had no appreciation of foreign 

 airs, we have no means of answering ; but alas ! in spite of their silken 

 ways, they at once set upon and murdered the little musical mouse. 



These wood-mice are often called white-footed mice. They belong 

 to a genus of the Sigmadontes, known as the Ilesperomys, or Vesper- 

 mico, and are indigenous to this our Western Continent. There is a 

 number of species in the genus ; but those best known are diminutive 

 things, not so large as the house-mouse, their sides are yellowish-brown, 

 the back considerably darker, the abdomen and feet almost snowy- 

 white. Their home is the woods. With but little sympathy for man, 

 they will occasionally intrude for a time into his dwelling, when, 

 as I believe, the domestic mouse withdraws. My friend Philip J. 

 Ryall, Esq., in the spring of 1871, when at his Florida home, near St. 

 Augustine, was disturbed, at night, by what he supposed to be the 

 chirping of birds in the chimney. The mystery was cleared up in an 

 unexpected way. A very small mouse came up from a crevice in the 

 hearth, and, with singular boldness, took position in the middle of the 

 sitting-room floor. Here it sat up on its hind-feet, and looked around 

 with the utmost confidence, all the time singing in a low, soft, yet 

 really warbling style. This visit became a daily business, until it 



