FIELD MICE 



and trunks of bushes and shrubs were robbed 

 of their bark ; in the spring when the sap flows 

 the trees bleed and soon die. 



One night as I was about to retire I heard a 

 peculiar little squeak and rushed at once to the 

 mouse-cage. The mice were nowhere to be 

 seen. I shook the cage which had always 

 brought them from their burrows, but they did 

 not appear. Then I noticed that the canvas 

 which I had used to patch the broken wire was 

 eaten away and at last my pets had found free- 

 dom. I looked about the room for them and 

 as I did so saw a sight that shocked me. The 

 family cat was busy munching something. 

 There was a little blood-stain on the floor and 

 a small gray tail still protruded from her mouth. 

 Was it Deacon, or Quaker, or both ? The 

 only answer the cat gave to my query was to 

 finish the tail and walk away with a satisfied 

 mew. For the time being I knew not whether 

 both or but one of my little mice had contrib- 

 uted to her repast. 



A few days passed after this tragedy when, 

 one night, I was awakened by hearing a sweet 

 little shrill song, not unlike that of a miniature 

 [H3] 



