If the observer will pick out some spot where he can be tolerably screened, and where the water of the brook is clear and rather shallow, he will be very likely to come upon the water-shrew (_Cróssopus fódiens_). Both of these names are very appropriate. The first, or generic, name is of Greek origin (as all generic names ought to be), and signifies “fringe-footed.” The name is due to the fringe of stiff hairs with which the feet are edged. A similar fringe is found on the lower surface of the tail. As these fringes are white, they are very conspicuous. Their object will presently be seen. The second, or specific, title is (as all specific titles ought to be) derived from the Latin, and refers to the habits of the species. It signifies a digger or burrower, and alludes to its custom of digging burrows in the banks of the brook in which it loves to disport itself, and where it obtains much of its food. As with other creatures, absolute stillness and silence is required on the part of the observer before the water-shrew will even show itself. Though there may be plenty of the little animals within a few yards, not one will be visible. But in ten minutes or thereabouts the silence will reassure them, and they will make their appearance on the bank. I have seen them playing with each other on the bank of a rivulet which at that time was so dried up by want of rain that the water was scarcely a foot in width. They were almost within reach of my hand, and could easily have killed one or two with a stick. But as I prefer watching the habits of animals to killing them, they continued their pretty and graceful evolutions undisturbed. Being sociable little creatures, a single water-shrew is seldom seen, and, if the observer should detect one of the animals, he may be tolerably certain that it will presently be joined by others. They are as playful as kittens, and, in their way, quite as graceful, their lithe bodies and active limbs being able to assume as many varied attitudes as may be seen in a family of kittens at play. They chase each other over the bank, pretend to fight fiercely, squeaking the while as if wounded to death, just as puppies will do when playing and making believe to be hurt. Then one will jump into the water, and dive, as if to escape, while one or two others will pop in after it, and chase it under water. Indeed, on the occasion which I have just mentioned, the whole proceedings reminded me forcibly of the games in which the boy swimmers of Oxford were wont to indulge for the best part of a summer’s day.