114 The Naturalist in Siluria. 



not get their victims through the hole by which they had 

 escaped themselves, a perfect heap of dead bodies was 

 collected round their hutch. When 1 looked out of my 

 window in the morning, I had the satisfaction of seeing 

 four of the young ferrets, covered with blood, dragging 

 a hen (which I had flattered myself was about to hatch 

 a brood of young pheasants) across the yard, which was 

 between the hen-house and where these ferrets were kept ; 

 the remainder of them were assisting the old one in 

 slaughtering some white rabbits. Their eagerness to 

 escape again and renew their bloody attack showed the 

 excited state the little wretches were in from this their 

 first essay in killing." 



The present note refers only to the smallest of the tribe, 

 the Weasel itself (Mustela vulgarix), and dwells but on 

 one of its habits, often observed in Siluria. Last summer 

 some mowers, cutting the grass of a meadow, were in- 

 duced to suspend their scythe-strokes by hearing a 

 sharp, plaintive cry, which they knew to proceed from a 

 rabbit. The meadow, a small one, was surrounded by 

 woods, out of which bolted a large rabbit, and shortly 

 after a weasel in pursuit. Instead of seeking shelter, as 

 would seem natural, the rabbit kept to the open where 

 the grass had been cut. Nor did it continue in a rush of 

 retreat, but every now and then made a stop, repeating 

 its frightened cry. Very fear, perhaps the certain know- 

 ledge of its fate being sealed, seemed to enfeeble and 

 render it irresolute. Still, the ruthless pursuer, like a 

 diminutive sleuth-hound, kept after it, though not all the 

 while visible to the mowers. Even in the mown sward 

 its elongated vermiform body was at times out of sight, 

 as it paused in crouching attitude between the successive 

 shoots and zigzags of the chase. After making several 



