MUSKRATS 
227 
is succeeded by the pioneer settlement, and on 
through all the mutations that culminate in the great 
city. The Beaver is wise. The Muskrat has the happy 
faculty of accepting every situation and calling it 
good. When the sand-pump fills his favourite lagoon, 
and his few human sympathisers have bidden him 
good-bye, he comes next night and trails his glossy 
tail over the fresh mound, crossing and recrossing it 
in a labyrinth of straight and curved lines, and making 
the new shores old with the countless indentations 
of his nimble feet. Like ourselves, he becomes 
nocturnal in his habits as urban growth advances 
around him. Should he become inured to a civilisation 
ancient as that of China he may be as indifferent as a 
laundryman to the rising and setting of the sun in 
ordering his hours of labour and repose. 
The after-dark of early autumn, before the crescent 
moon has left the sky to the vigils of the stars, is the 
time to commune with the Muskrats, The excuse 
for being abroad, whether it be gun, fishing-rod, insect 
net, or botanising case, must be laid aside, for there 
is something imperious in the all-pervading hush 
of evening that will not tolerate an interruption. 
From the boat pushed well into the rushes the clear, 
smooth lagoon stretches away toward its margins of 
impenetrable shadow, so still that the mirrored stars 
do not even tremble, A black dot comes out of the 
darkness straight across the silent water, leaving 
