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 
