60 RAMBLES OF 



No. IV. 



MY next visit to my old hunting-ground, the lane 

 and brook, happened on a day in the first hay-harvest, 

 when the verdant sward of the meadows was rapidly 

 sinking before the keen-edged scythes swung by 

 vigorous mowers. This unexpected circumstance 

 afforded me considerable pleasure, for it promised 

 me a freer scope to my wanderings, and might also 

 enable me to ascertain various particulars concern- 

 ing which my curiosity had long been awakened. 

 Nor was this promise unattended by fruition of my 

 wishes. The reader may recollect that, in my first 

 walk, a neat burrow in the grass, above ground, was 

 observed, without my knowing its author. The ad- 

 vance of the mowers explained this satisfactorily, for 

 in cutting the long grass, they exposed several nests 

 of field-mice, which, by means of these grass-covered 

 alleys, passed to the stream in search of food or 

 drink, unseen by their enemies, the hawks and owls. 

 The numbers of these little creatures were truly sur- 

 prising : their fecundity is so great, and their food 

 so abundant, that, were they not preyed upon by 

 many other animals, and destroyed in great numbers 

 by man, they would become exceedingly troublesome. 

 There are various species of them, all bearing a very 

 considerable resemblance to each other, and having, 

 to an incidental observer, much of the appearance 



