THE FOREST MILL A RACCOON. 67 



tomed to open the door ; I pushed this open in rather 

 ill-humor, and found — a deserted house, with all as 

 still as death. The stars shone. through a hole in the 

 roof, the chimney had fallen in. It causes a shudder 

 to see a place deserted that you expect to find occupied 

 by an industrious family : I closed the door, and sprang 

 over the fence, leavmg the building to its mournful sol- 

 itude. 



The fire I had Hghted was nearly burnt out, but I 

 found it again, and followed hastily my former path. 

 After about another hour's walk, I heard the bark of 

 a dog, and confiding with a joyful heart in this sure 

 sign of an approach to a human habitation, I stepped 

 out quickly to the long-sought mill. Dogs bayed, the 

 wheel clattered, a bright light shone through all the 

 crevices of the loghouse, and everything showed that 

 I should soon find shelter for the night ; — and in a few 

 minutes I was comfortably seated in the chimney 

 corner. 



My host was a kindly, good-humored man, had 

 lived some years in Indiana, and was in good circum- 

 stances. After a delicious supper, he led me out of 

 the house, and said, " I will show you a Httle chap, 

 such as you never saw before in your hfe." He kept 

 his word. Under an inverted tub was a gray animal, 

 about the size of a cat, but thicker in the body, with 

 short legs, head and muzzle like a fox, or rather, more 

 hke a colossal rat, with ugly finger-Hke claws, and a 

 tail about a foot long, devoid of hair. These creatures 

 are constantly on the look-out for fowls, and make 

 great havoc amongst the farmers' poultry. The Amer- 

 icans, and sometimes the immigrant Germans, eat the 



