226 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
considerable amount of damage. A mole of that 
size would easily overturn the Royal Exchange, 
and even Westminster Palace would be tumbled 
down, burying our congregated law-givers in its 
ruins, 
The life of the mole is an amazingly strenuous 
one; his appetite surpasses that of any other 
creature of land or sea, and he does not “eat to 
burstness ” only because his digestion is just as 
powerful and rapid in its action as his digging 
muscles. He feeds like a Gargantua, and having 
dug out and devoured his dinner, he digs again to 
where a spring exists, and refreshes himself with 
copious draughts of cold water. 
The West Country field labourer, who gets 
through his two or three gallons of cider at a sitting, 
is a poor drinker in comparison. After digging and 
eating and drinking, he goes to sleep, and so 
soundly does he sleep that you could not wake 
him by beating drums and firing guns off over his 
head. Out of this condition he comes very suddenly, 
like a giant refreshed, and goes furiously to work 
again at his digging. 
If by chance you catch a mole above ground 
and seize him with your hand you find him a 
difficult creature to hold. The prickly hedgehog 
and slippery snake or eel are more easy to manage. 
You are puzzled by finding that you cannot keep 
your grip on him, and, if you are a novice, he will 
probably slip back through his skin until his head 
is in your hand, and then, when half-a-dozen of 
