WILD MICE. ‘ 69 
country, but a wild native kind not found in the village. I 
sent one to a distinguished naturalist, and it interested him 
much. When I was building, one of these had its nest un- 
derneath the house, and before I had laid the second floor 
and swept out the shavings, would come out regularly at 
lunch-time and pick up the crumbs at my feet. It probably 
had never seen a man before; and it soon became quite fa- 
miliar, and would run over my shoes and up my clothes. 
It could readily ascend the sides of the room by short im- 
pulses, like a squirrel, which it resembled in its motions. 
At length, as I leaned my elbow on the bench one day, it 
ran up my clothes and along my sleeve, and around and 
around the table which held my dinner, while I kept the 
latter close, and dodged and played at bo-peep with it; and 
when at last I held still a piece of cheese between my 
thumb and finger, it came and nibbled it, sitting in my 
hand, and afterward cleaned its face and paws lke a fly, 
and walked away.” 
Mice are full of such curiosity. They poke their noses 
into all sorts of places where there is a prospect of some- 
thing to eat, and sometimes, failing to find so good a friend 
as Mr. Thoreau, meet the fate which ought to be the end 
of all poking of noses into other people’s affairs—they get 
caught. I remember one such case which Mr. Frank 
