Although we may see the water-shrew swim away and disappear below the surface of the water, we may watch in vain for its reappearance. As is done by the duckbill of Australia, the animal always makes several entrances to its burrow, one of them being on the side of the bank, below the surface of the water. It can, therefore, enter or leave the brook without being observed. All the shrews, whether of the land or water, were at one time the objects of universal dread, and even the toad and blindworm could scarcely be more feared. As one old writer remarks, in his sweeping condemnation of the animal, “It beareth a cruel minde, desiring to hurt anything, neither is there any creature that it loveth, or it loveth him, because it is feared of all.” It was held to be the special foe of cattle, biting their hoofs while in the stall and running over their bodies as they lay chewing the cud in the field. A cow over which a shrew had run was said to be “shrew-struck,” and to fall straightway into a sort of consumption, accompanied with swellings of the skin. The disease, being caused by the shrew, could only be cured by the shrew, the usual mode of treatment being to burn the animal alive and rub the cow with the ashes. As, however, a shrew might not always be at hand when a cow was taken ill, the ingenuity of our forefathers devised a plan of having essence of shrew always within reach. A shrew was caught alive, and a hole bored into the trunk of an ash tree. The shrew, which must be still living, was put into the hole, the entrance to which was then closed with a wooden plug. As the body of the shrew decayed, its virtues were supposed to be absorbed into the tree, so that a branch of a “shrew ash,” or even a few leaves, were supposed to be an effectual cure if laid upon the suffering animal. The tail of a shrew, when burned and powdered, was considered as a certain remedy for the bite of a dog; only the tail must be cut from a living shrew. I have already made casual mention of the shrews of the land. Two species of land-shrews are recognised as inhabitants of England. One is the common SHREW, or SHREW-MOUSE (_Sorex vulgáris_), which for a long time was thought to be identical with the water-shrew. The fringed feet and tail, however, afford sufficient indications that it is a distinct species. Towards the end of autumn there seems to be quite a mortality among the shrews, their bodies being plentifully strewn about the roadways and paths across fields. Why this should be so no one can tell, though many conjectures have been offered, one absurd theory being that man and the shrew are so antagonistic to each other, that when a shrew tries to cross a pathway made and used by man it dies from sheer antipathy. This fact was known to Pliny, and Topsel, the old writer who has already been quoted, is of opinion that when a shrew dies in a cart-rut, the finder should not fail to secure so valuable a prize.