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his visits to the hen roosts; and on several occasions had the 
pleasure of watching the young cubs playing at the mouth of the 
den, and jolly little fellows they are, full of fun and frolic, and as 
mischievous as any kittens; they are pretty little fellows. If one 
observed us, they all made tracks into the earth, but presently one 
pair of bright eyes would appear, and another would tumble over 
it to have alook. They are very inquisitive, and no doubt would 
make charming pets. 
On one occasion, late in autumn, a friend and I had the pleasure 
of seeing a procession of weasels, if I may term it so. Our atten- 
tion was drawn to a peculiar noise, with a shrill cry, sharply 
repeated, from the opposite side of the hedge. We were standing 
motionless on the road wondering what it could be, when a little 
further up they crossed from one side to the other. It was a 
remarkable sight; there would be about twenty or twenty-five 
altogether, following in single file, and as they ran along with 
sinuous motion, they had a pretty appearance. I like to see the 
weasel peering from some crannie (especially an old stone dyke), 
with his brilliant little eyes, and eyeing you with indifference. I 
threw a stick at one while it was carrying a small bird in its mouth, 
which it had apparently just killed, and was conveying to its larder. 
It dropped the bird and advanced towards me with threatening 
gestures, spitting and looking very ferocious. In Wreay woods, 
one summer's night, I saw a very interesting sight—a female Hedge- 
hog, with three young ones. The mother was rooting the plants, 
somewhat in the manner of a pig; when she got a worm she partly 
held it with her forepaws, and tugged till she divided it into several 
pieces, which she gave to the young with an expressive snort ; 
when she swallowed anything, she appeared to do so with jerks. 
The young were very playful, and when one ran out of her protec- 
tive range she soon brought it back again. ‘They eat snails and 
their shells with great gusto, and look for them in the rough 
herbage, poking their snouts among the grass, and crunching the 
mollusks with evident satisfaction. 
In mentioning Wreay Wood, brings to my recollection Moss 
Pool, a lovely spot—good for both birds and flowers—and a rather 
