226 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



considerable amount of damage. A mole of that 

 size would easily overturn the Royal Exchange, 

 and even Westminster Palace would be tumbled 

 down, burying our congregated law-givers in its 

 ruins. 



The life of the mole is an amazingly strenuous 

 one; his appetite surpasses that of any other 

 creature of land or sea, and he does not " eat to 

 burstness " only because his digestion is just as 

 powerful and rapid in its action as his digging 

 muscles. He feeds like a Gargantua, and having 

 dug out and devoured his dinner, he digs again to 

 where a spring exists, and refreshes himself with 

 copious draughts of cold water. 



The West Country field labourer, who gets 

 through his two or three gallons of cider at a sitting, 

 is a poor drinker in comparison. After digging and 

 eating and drinking, he goes to sleep, and so 

 soundly does he sleep that you could not wake 

 him by beating drums and firing guns off over his 

 head. Out of this condition he comes very suddenly, 

 like a giant refreshed, and goes furiously to work 

 again at his digging. 



If by chance you catch a mole above ground 

 and seize him with your hand you find him a 

 difficult creature to hold. The prickly hedgehog 

 and slippery snake or eel are more easy to manage. 

 You are puzzled by finding that you cannot keep 

 your grip on him, and, if you are a novice, he will 

 probably slip back through his skin until his head 

 is in your hand, and then, when half-a-dozen of 



