274 NOVEMBER. 



7* 



That engaging but furtive beast the hedgehog, dow 

 ered with an ideally descriptive name, has justified it. It 

 has rootled in the mud and leaves at the foot of the hedge 

 and found a hole, a winter sty. Into this it has disap 

 peared, and may not appear again till it desires young 

 leaves in lieu of old. It is one of the many lovers of 

 fallen leaves. Like the short-tailed field vole that Robert 

 Burns, with most other people, calls a mouse, it provides 

 itself with a &quot; wee bit heap o* leaves and stibble &quot; ; 

 and by their aid hopes, if all goes well, to 



Thole the winter s sleety dribble 

 And cranreuch cauld. 



It has few enemies. Mr. Hearn has reported that the 

 adder will eat very young hedgehogs, or try to, and in 

 his tale the adder was killed by the mother hedgehog* 

 The dog and the fox are its worst enemies ; and there 

 is something about the smell of the hedgehog that in 

 furiates a dog, at any rate, in my experience, the spaniel, 

 the fox terrier, and, surprisingly, the Alsatian. Certainly 

 one very silent spaniel and one quite silent Alsatian b?irk 

 furiously only when they have found one of the retreats 

 of this early hibernator. 



Most of us delight in the season of &quot; the Fall &quot; because 

 of the tawny colour of the leaves that still hang on the 

 the trees. They hang long in some autumns, against all 

 expectation. In certain places November 19, which is 

 about the end of St. Martin s Summer, is taken as the 

 authentic date for the final baring of the boughs. There 

 after the season is open, not close, in every sense of the 

 word ; and so far as the almanac is regular, this particular 

 date serves well enough as a remembrancer. It is a sign 

 of health for trees to lose thek leaf then. When the 



