A RABBIT OF THE WORLD. 



could almost back Fan, and echo the Great 

 Poet's indignant exclamation. For whatever 

 we try to plant among the heather, by way 

 of beautifying our small patch of moorland 

 (as who should paint the lily or gild refined 

 gold), those unscrupulous rodents immedi- 

 ately proceed to treat as their private pro- 

 perty. Not one of our white brooms has 

 survived their attacks ; and the way they 

 have devoured our periwinkles and our St. 

 John's wort is a credit to their appetites, 

 and a testimonial to the magnificent air of 

 this healthy neighbourhood. The lad who 

 attends to my garden (we call it a garden 

 by courtesy, not to hurt its feelings) is always 

 saying to me, " Let me set a trap for 'em, 

 sir." But grave as their misdemeanours are, 

 I can't bear to trap them. I remember that 

 after all they were the earliest inhabitants. 

 They dwelt here before me ; and when I 

 plumped down my cottage in the midst of 

 their moor, I seriously interfered with their 

 domestic economy. " There's a horrid house 



35 



