THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



73 



even at this tender age, of making a very strong appeal 

 to your sense of smell. 



No animal is more cleanly in its habits than he. 

 He is not an awkward boy, who cuts his own face 

 with his whip \ and neither his flesh nor his fur 

 hints the weapon with which he is armed. The most 

 silent creature known to me, he makes no sound, so 

 far as I have observed, save a diffuse, impatient noise, 

 like that produced by beating your hand with a whisk- 

 broom, when the farm-dog has discovered his retreat 

 in the stone fence. He renders himself obnoxious to 

 the farmer by his partiality for hens' eggs and young 

 poultry. He is a confirmed epicure, and at plundering 

 hen-roosts an expert. Not the full-grown fowls are his 

 victims, but the youngest and most tender. At night 

 Mother Hen receives under her maternal wings a dozen 

 newly hatched chickens, and with much pride and sat- 

 isfaction feels them all safely tucked away in her feath- 

 ers. In the morning she is walking about disconso- 

 lately, attended by only two or three of all that pretty 

 brood. What has happened ? Where are they gone ? 

 That pickpocket, Sir Mephitis, could solve the mystery. 

 Quietly has he approached, under cover of darkness, 

 and, one by one, relieved her of her precious charge. 

 Look closely, and you will see their little yellow, legs 

 and beaks, or part of a mangled form, lying about on 

 the ground. Or, before the hen has hatched, he may find 

 her out, and, by the same sleight of hand, remove every 

 egg, leaving only the empty blood-stained shells to 



