I? COUNTRY NEIGHBORS AGAIN. 



We have heard not a word from the woodchucks. Ever 

 since we violated the laws of woodland hospitality by set 

 ting a trap for their poor old patriarch, they have very 

 justly considered us as bad neighbors, and their hole at 

 the bottom of the garden has been &quot;to let,&quot; and nobody 

 as yet has ventured to take it. Our friends the muskrats 

 have been flourishing, and on moonlight nights have been 

 swimming about, popping up the tips of their little black 

 noses to make observations. 



But latterly a great commotion has been made among 

 the amphibious tribes, because of the letting down of the 

 dam which kept up the water of the river, and made it a 

 good, full, wide river. When the dam was torn down it 

 became a little miserable stream, flowing through a wide 

 field of muddy bottom, and all the secrets of the under 

 water were disclosed. The white and yellow water-lily roots 

 were left high and dry up in the mud, and all the musk- 

 rat holes could be seen plainer than ever before ; and the 

 other day Master Charlie brought in a fish s nest which 

 he had found in what used to be deep water. 



&quot;A fish s nest!&quot; says little Tom; &quot;I did n t know fishes 

 made nests.&quot; But they do, Tommy ; that is, one particular 

 kind of fish makes a nest of sticks and straws and twigs, 

 plastered together with some kind of cement, the making 

 of which is a family secret. It lies on the ground like a 

 common bird s-nest turned bottom upward, and has a tiny 



