“Most curious and convenient bags they are,” said I, willing to appease him by a civil word, though I thought that thus puffed out with air, they anything but added to the beauty of his appearance.
“They were the cause of my being taken,” cried the fierce Hamster, whose savage complaints had quite silenced the gentler murmurs of the pretty little Lemmings, and had done more perhaps to make them submissive to their lot than anything which I could have said.
“How were your pouches the cause of your being taken?” inquired I.
“I can fight savagely—I will fly even at dogs,” replied the Hamster (no one could have looked at him and have doubted it,) “but I cannot bite when my cheeks are stuffed full of grain, which was the case when a German peasant seized me; I had no time to empty them, not a moment, or wouldn’t I have bitten him! oh, would not I have bitten him!”
I felt so much disgusted at the words and manner of this most ferocious of rats, that I was glad to turn away from his cage; reflecting to myself how hideous and how hateful any creature is rendered by violent passion.
A perfume, rather more powerful than agreeable, drew my attention towards a division occupied by a Musk-Rat, a native of Canada. I saw within it a creature of the size of a small rabbit, quiet and staid in his demeanour, who welcomed me with a grave courtesy strangely in contrast to the rudeness of the Hamster.
“May I venture to look upon you as belonging to the race of Mus?” I inquired, looking doubtingly at his large size, soft fur, and long flat tail.
“Well,” he replied, good-humouredly, “some naturalists, and I believe the great Linnæus amongst them, class me with the Castor or Beaver race, and dignify me with a very long and learned-sounding name, Zibethicus. But I am quite content, for my part, to own my relationship to the race of Mus, and to be known by the simple name Musk-Rat, which they give me on the lakes of Canada.”
“I am delighted,” said I, with a wave of my whiskers, “at this opportunity of paying my respects to so dignified a relation.”
“Ah!” replied Zibethicus, “I only wish that I could have received you in my own house upon the Lake Huron. If you could but have seen the pretty round dwelling raised by myself and my companions—the neat dome-shaped roof which covered it, formed of herbs and reeds cemented with clay. So prettily it was stuccoed within! A great deal of trouble it cost us, to be sure, but I often think there’s no pleasure without trouble; and there’s nothing in my captivity which I miss so much as the power to labour and build.”