THE HEDGEHOG'S HOLE. 51 



armed with pick and shovel, to unearth and 

 carry off one of these uncanny brutes for my 

 kitchen folk. After a little digging in the 

 bank, using my pick carefully for fear of 

 injuring the poor timid beast, I have got to 

 the round warm nest, a mere hollow in the 

 ground roughly floored with leaves and dry 

 moss and lined on the top with a soft vault of 

 the same materials. And now the creature 

 lies motionless in my shovel, rolled tightly up 

 into a prickly ball, and absolutely unassailable 

 in its spherical suit of sharply pointed spike- 

 armour. No defensive mail could be more 

 effectual or more deterrent. I cannot even 

 lift him up to put him into my basket ; I am 

 obliged literally to shovel him in, and then 

 tie down the flap to keep him safely. There 

 I can see him now through the wattles, slowly 

 unrolling himself, and peering about with his 

 blinking, beady black eyes, as if to inquire 

 what Arabian Nights' enchantment has so 

 strangely transferred him against his will to 

 this curious locomotive prison. 



2 



