9 6 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL. 
It has seen long service, and now rests, an aged pensioner, 
on a solitary peg on the wall of my verandah ; but one 
sunny day some weeks ago I remembered my old favourite, 
and taking it kindly off its peg, put it on my head. 
Almost immediately I felt something scrambling and 
pushing its way among my hair. “ A gigantic cockroach,” 
I said to myself. “Now it shall not escape.” So I quietly 
removed my hat. A beautiful mouse slid down my neck 
and began travelling along my arm. It was of a light fawn 
colour above, but all the under parts were as white as 
snow. Its feet were pink, it eyes large and soft, and its 
tail as long as a bit of string. It showed complete self- 
possession as it clambered about my coat, trying to find 
a way out of the strange country into which it had got. 
It was not quite sure that the whole thing was not a 
dream. I called for a cage and easily guided the per- 
plexed little beast into it, for he was a “ Long-tailed Field 
Mouse,” and I wanted to examine his nails. A great 
deal hangs on the nails of this mouse. By virtue of them 
it is not now Mus oleraceus, as Jerdon called it, but 
Vandeleura oleracea , having been promoted to a sort of 
peerage among mice. The difference between it and a 
Mus } or vulgar mouse, is this, that whereas Mus has nails 
