Morgan’s book, the floor of the lodge is extended down, from the point where it touches the water, in a slanting line to the bottom; but whether the wall goes down all the way with it, and whether the entrances run right through the wall or only just underneath it, is not very easy to make out, either from the plates or the description. They apparently come up through the floor of the lodge, though even that is not quite easy to make out from the plates, though these are evidently intended to make things very plain. My own opinion is that nobody will quite know what a beaver-lodge is like, or how its entrances are arranged, until he has seen it for himself. Some beavers make a trench all round their huts, and let the water from the pond run into it. Then they make one passage out into the water of this trench, and another into that of the pond. Mr. Wood, in speaking of the beaver-lodges, tells us that “they are nearly circular in form, and much resemble the well-known snow-houses of the Esquimaux, being domed, and about half as high as they are wide, the average height being three feet, and the diameter six or seven feet. These are the interior dimensions, the exterior measurement being much greater on account of the great thickness of the walls, which are continually strengthened with mud and branches, so that, during the severe frosts, they are nearly as hard as solid stone. All these precautions, however,” he goes on to say, “are useless against the practised skill of the trappers. Even in winter time the beavers are not safe. The hunters strike the ice smartly, and judge by the sound whether they are near an aperture. As soon as they are satisfied, they cut away the ice and stop up the opening, so that if the beavers should be alarmed they cannot escape into the water. They then proceed to the shore, and by repeated soundings trace the course of the beaver’s subterranean passage, which is sometimes eight or ten yards in length, and by watching the various apertures are sure to catch the beavers. This is not a favourite task with the hunters, and is never undertaken as long as they can find any other employment, for the work is very severe, the hardships are great, and the price which they obtain for the skins is now very small.” I heartily wish it were nothing, for then this most interesting and intelligent animal would not be in danger of extermination, as I fear it is now. The greater number of men and women are, unfortunately, quite callous in regard to what is done to wild animals. They do not see that it is a crime to rob a _being_ of its life—only a _human_ being; though the distinction, nowadays, is one without a difference. To read, first, of what the beavers do, and then of what we do to them, ought to upset one more than the fall of a ministry, or people in one’s pew—but it doesn’t.