THE BADGER 351 



sharp and delicate outline, against the reddening 

 sky. 



On these hills, too, as in most of those round 

 Melcombe, there burrows, deep beneath the surface, 

 sleeping all the day, and trotting about all the night, 

 that last and most interesting survival of the wild 

 animals of the England of the past, the badger. 

 You may never see or hear him ; for he seldom 

 quits his bed of dry leaves till after dark, and 

 hardly ever fails to return to it before it is light. 

 But you have the satisfaction of knowing that he is 

 there, and you may see his footprints and marvel 

 at the vast masses of chalk or sand, or gravel, 

 which he throws up from his subterranean gallery. 

 He is the most harmless and inoffensive of animals, 

 living on grass or the roots of trees, on frogs or rats, 

 occasionally varied by a few young rabbits. With 

 his stout, short legs, his strong claws, his heavy 

 elongated body, his skin which hangs so loose upon 

 it, his curiously striped face, his powerful jaws, he 

 is strong chiefly for defence. A pattern of cleanliness 

 himself, he often allows the vixen fox, who is by no 

 means so fastidious, to appropriate a portion of 

 his catacombe and deposit her litter there, and he 

 and his get on in apparent amity with her and 

 hers. The days of badger-baiting are, happily, 



