CORRACH-BAH; OR, A PLEA FOR THE WASTES. 237 



scarcely have expected. I once brought home a half-grown 

 cub which had wandered from the hole, rolling it up in my 

 jacket. (What will boys not do ?) It soon became so tame 

 as to eat beetles and humble-bees from our hands, and would 

 lap up porridge and milk like a dog. I well recollect for it 

 was a job that cost us no small trouble digging out an old 

 she-one. To the last she kept the dogs at bay ; and even 

 when we heard the growl within a couple of yards, they were 

 unable to dislodge her. Whenever we struck into the wide 

 cell, they dashed in upon her, and inflicted such injury that 

 she soon died. There were two cubs about a week old, which 

 made a low, chirping squeak. The cell where they were was 

 round, hard, and dry, about two feet in height, by four or five 

 yards in circumference. There was no food in it. Many a 

 badger we trapped, and, I verily believe, were as proud of the 

 brock-holes as an Indian chief of his finest hunting-ground. 

 Those that we trapped soon learned to take part of the dog's 

 supper. We never saw them eat grass or hay, and should 

 as soon have thought of giving such food to a dog as of in- 

 sulting them with it. What they call " badger's hay -making " 

 is neither more nor less than the rooting up of the moss, which 

 they are obliged to do to get at beetles, grubs, &c., among its 

 roots. This dries, and the badger brings home a little for its 

 winter bed. We used to notice as much of this hay made as 

 would suffice for a good-sized stack, and more than would fill 

 up every badger's hole in the country. I need scarcely say 

 that what they carried was never missed. 



My reveries were now broken by Sandy pointing out the 

 nest of the " salmon-tailed gled," and there are the owners 

 wheeling their graceful circles. Two roes were also looking 

 at us from the shore, and another a little farther on. They 

 seemed not the least afraid, as we pulled slowly past. I was 

 admiring the beautiful hanging wood, in which the kite's nest 

 held a prominent place near the top of one of the finest old 

 oaks, when a pull, that bent my rod's top to the water, and 



