Spaniels and Hedgehogs. 235 
of way talk to each other in the hedge, and the robin 
plaintively utters a few notes on the tree. It is not 
absolute silence indeed; but the difference is very 
noticeable. Through the ash poles on one side of the 
copse distant glimpses may be obtained of gleaming 
water, where a creek of the shallow lake runs in 
towards it. 
Bordering the furze a thick hawthorn hedge—a 
double mound—extends, so wide as to be itself almost 
another copse. In the ‘ rowetty’ grass on the bank 
or in the hollow places, under fallen leaves and trailing 
ivy, the hedgehog hides during the day, so completely 
‘concealed that while the sun shines it is extremely 
difficult to find one without a dog. 
A spaniel racing down the mound will pounce on 
the spot and scratch the hedgehog out in a moment ; 
then, missing the dog, you presently hear a whining 
kind of bark—half rage, half pain—and know imme- 
diately what he is doing. He is trying to unroll the 
hedgehog, who, so soon as he felt the approach of the 
enemy, curled himself into a ball, with the sharp 
spines sticking out everywhere. The spaniel, snap- 
ping at the animal, runs these quills deep into his 
jowl; he draws back, snaps again, shakes his head, 
and then tries a third time, with bloodspots round his 
mouth. Every repulse embitters him—his semi-whine 
expresses intense annoyance, and if left alone there 
he would stay till covered with blood. 
But the older dogs sometimes learn the trick : they 
