British Wild Beasts. 195 



The chief point about the natural mole — Tennyson's "four- 

 handed mole " — is its industry in digging ; and the poets, 

 observing the superficial evidences of its diligence, address 

 the "moudiewort " as "patient," draw numerous reflections 

 from its "delving," "earth-piercing," and "mining," which, 

 by the way, the fairies are supposed to have taught them. 

 Thus Pope advises man to imitate the mole in deep- 

 ploughing. 



Mice are not suitable subjects for poetry. There is very 

 little of the hieroglyph, few subtle significances, in the 

 pantr)'-invading, cat-eaten mouse. It is diflScult to dignify 

 it. Mouse-character is very one-sided : there are no 

 enormities about it, no picturesque ferocity, or blood- 

 curdling wolfishness ; nor does it conceal itself suflSciently 

 to be worth calling " obscene." Besides, it is so absurdly 

 small. Once in a way it was well enough to make " the 

 crumb ravisher," "cheese-rind nibbler," " bacon-lick er," and 

 their comrades-in-arms, heroic ; but the joke does not bear 

 repetition. It is sad that cats should think so well of them 

 as food, and that mouse-traps should be so eflScacious, but 

 what is to be done? They insist on being where they 

 should not go, and affront man himself by tampering with 

 his victuals. 



Such is the poetical acceptation of the mouse. As 

 " Tom's food " they are benignly congratulated upon their 

 utility, and, though expected to rejoice when cats decease, 

 are sternly reminded that pussy alive was a wholesome 

 corrective to mouse excesses. Thus Clare — 



" Ah mice, rejoice I ye've lost your foe, 

 Who watched your scheming robb'ries so 

 That, while she lived, twa'nt yours to know 



A crumb of bread : 

 'Tb yours to triumph, mine's the woe, 



Now pussy's dead ; 

 WTiile pussy lived ye'd empty maws. 

 No sooner peeped ye out your nose. 



