A SINGING HESPEROMYS. 769 
use the inspiring breath in singing, though he cannot vouch for the 
fact. Now this fact, in the case of our Hesperomys, that it could 
eat and sing at the same time, even admitting, what is probably 
true, that there are intervals of a very short duration (so short as 
to be almost undiscernible) when the epiglottis closes to allow the 
food to pass down the gullet, demonstrates, as we think, that the 
organization of those parts was very delicate, and that the whole 
organism was in the very highest condition of health. We say 
nothing about that dual vocalization, other than that we think it 
looks in the same direction. 
Probably it may occur to some that the pathology could be bet- 
ter demonstrated by dissection. To us it hardly seems that such 
a proof is needed. But I confess to a desire for all possible 
knowledge from such a source as respects certain physiological 
questions which I feel impelled to propose. In the human ear is 
a stringed instrument of amazing delicacy. The physiologist calls 
it the Fibres of Corti. It is wonderfully suggestive of the strings 
and keys of a piano; and it is believed that it ministers to the 
musical function. Query: has our little musician this mysterious 
organ? If so, in how much is it like that possessed by man? And 
„as Hespie lacked time in her music, and as all animals, other than 
man, lack harmony, is this delicate organ consonant with that 
defect? Alas! we may not bring to this matter, though under our 
hands and our eyes, processes of investigation so delicate as the 
astronomer applies to matter far distant in space. 
We would not run into the vice of generalizing on too scanty a 
stock of facts. Yet we are disposed to think that as an order the 
rodents possess a large amount of undeveloped ability for musical 
utterance. Few of us are aware to what extent among the domes- 
tic mice singers abound. Singing rats also have been observed. 
We have now the Hesperomys, thus affording three well marked 
genera of the Muride. Of the Sciuride, or squirrels, I can only 
speak of three genera with certain knowledge—the gray squirrel, 
the chipmunk, and the flying squirrel. All these are capable of 
musical sounds, though not to be called singers. And there is 
also the whistling of the woodchuck in its burrow. Last summer 
I caught a young rabbit in a patch of wild lupines, and was struck 
with the silvery musical ring of its ery, when my hand touched it. 
It is worth asking how far man’s training or culture could develop 
and improve this potentiality or latent power in the rodents to 
