THEIR " TOWNS." 35 



incredible, and their cities — for such their aggregate dwell- 

 ing-places may well be called — are full of life and activity. 

 "I do not know," says Mr. Murray, "what their occupa- 

 tions actually are ; but I have seen them constantly run- 

 ning from one hole to another, although they never pay 

 any distant visits. They seem, on the approach of danger, 

 always to retire to their own houses ; but their great 

 delight apparently consists in braving it, with the usual 

 insolence of cowardice when secure from punishment : for, 

 as you approach, they wag their little tails, elevate their 

 heads, and chatter at you like a monkey, louder and louder 

 the nearer you come ; but no sooner is the hand raised to 

 any missile, whether gun, arrow, stick, or stone, than they 

 pop into the hole with a rapidity equalled only by that 

 sudden disappearance of Punch with which, when a child, 

 I have been so much delighted in the streets and squares 

 of London." 



The same traveller goes on to observe, that as there is 

 generally neither rain nor dew on the plains which they 

 inhabit, during the summer, while, on the other hand, 

 these little creatures never wander far from their " towns," 

 it seems reasonable to conclude they need no other liquid 

 than they can extract from the grass they eat. It would 

 appear that they pass the winter in a torpid and lethargic 

 condition, for they accumulate no supply of provisions 

 against that season ; while the herbage on which they feed 

 dries up in autumn, and soon afterw^ards the frosts render 

 it inaccessible to them. When the prairie dog feels the 

 approach of his time of somnolence — generally about the 

 end of October — he closes all the passages of his dormitory 



