"How could she? Why there are I don't know how many caverns, all leading from the fortress, and I could easily escape by one or other of them. Then I could dig through the earth a great deal faster than she could, if I were a mole; for Leatherwing says, that his fore-feet are amazingly large and strong. Oh! ten times stronger than mine! Then he never goes to sleep much more in the winter than in the summer, for when the ground is frozen hard, all he has to do is to dig down a little deeper, till he finds the earth soft; so he never cares what sort of weather it is, and he has no need to trouble himself about laying up a store of provisions for the winter. Oh! it must be very nice to be a mole!" "I should be afraid that my eyes would be filled with dust and dirt, when I was digging under the ground." "_Your_ great staring eyes would, I dare say, but the mole's are very different. They are so small, and covered over with fur, that he is sometimes thought to be quite blind.[8] For, as Leatherwing says, people _are_ so stupid and ignorant! But I believe the mole's little eyes are not often of much use to him, for he seldom comes out of his caverns, and when he does it is at night. I think he would be much wiser to keep _always_ under ground, and then he would be quite safe. I asked old Leatherwing how the mole could find out his food, as he always lives in the dark, and he said that his nose is more useful to him than his eyes, for he can smell anything at a great distance." [8] That acute observer, Aristotle, has been accused of inaccuracy, in saying, that the mole is absolutely blind. It has, however, been ascertained that in the South of Europe there exists another species of mole, the eyelids of which are _totally closed_, and it was probably this animal that fell under the observation of Aristotle. The mole has never been found in any part of Ireland. "And what can he find to eat under ground, I should like to know?" "Horrible! I forgot all about that when I wished to be a mole. His food, I can hardly bear even to talk about it! He lives almost entirely on _worms_! Horrid, long, twining worms! Oh! I had rather be hunted by the wild-cat every day, than eat such disgusting food as that. No, no, I don't wish to change places with the mole now, I am sure." So as Brush had neither the inclination nor the power to be transformed into a worm-devourer, he was obliged to be content with his situation as a _nut-cracker_. CHAPTER VI.