migrate, for he is what the naturalists call a " winter 

 resident." It is not in his nature to fly away nor to go 

 to sleep, but, like the red squirrel and the muskrat, 

 to prepare to live up all the winter. So his original, 

 unperverted animal instinct leads him to store. 



Long ago he buried his provisions in pits and hung 

 them up on poles. Even his vocabulary he gathered 

 together as his word-hoard. He is still possessed of 

 the remnant of the instinct ; he will still store. Cage 

 him in a city, give him more than he needs for winter, 

 relieve him of all possibility of want, and yet he will 

 store. You cannot cage an instinct nor eradicate it. 

 It will be obeyed, if all that can be found in the way 

 of pit and pole be a grated vault in the deep recesses 

 of some city bank. 



Cage a red squirrel and he will store in the cage ; 

 so will the white-footed mouse. Give the mouse more 

 than he can use, put him in a cellar, where there is 

 enough already stored for a city of mice, and he will 

 take from your piles and make piles of his own. He 

 must store or be unhappy and undone. 



A white-footed mouse got into my cellar last winter 

 and found it, like the cellar of the country mouse in 

 the fable, - 



40 



