A week or two after the interview with the hedgehog, one very cold dismal afternoon, all the squirrels were in the nest, except the father of the family, and he was gone abroad for a short time, just to stretch his legs a little. Suddenly he darted into the hole, as if he had been pursued by another wild-cat, and when he was asked what was the matter, he exclaimed, "_Snow!_ cold, dismal _snow_! Flakes of snow as large as white butterflies, and falling so thickly that I could hardly see my way back to the nest! Here I am, however, and here I mean to stay till fine weather comes again. It will be a long while before that happens though, I fancy." Brush was a true prophet. The weather became colder and colder every day, till at last, after a sharp frosty night, the squirrels quite forgot to wake up in the morning, and then their first long nap of several weeks began. If you could have looked in upon them in their comfortable nest, you could hardly have believed that the little curled up squirrels, with their blankets over their heads, were the same active, playful creatures, whose summer gambols among the branches had afforded you so much amusement. Well, then, there _can_ be nothing more to say about these sleeping squirrels, and now I must inform you what effect the cold weather had upon the other animals, whose summer habits have been imperfectly described in this history. The dormice, in their nests at the bottom of the oak-tree, and the water-rats, in their holes in the bank of the pond, were sound asleep also; but all these animals had taken the precaution to provide a store of provisions for the early part of the spring, and in case they should wake up for a few days in the winter. Now, with respect to the curious little water-shrew-mouse, Velvet-coat, I am not quite so certain about his winter habits. But no doubt he slept comfortably in his hole till the spring; and as he was an insect-feeder, we may conclude that he followed the example of Touchmenot, in not laying up any food for the winter. If we could have questioned old Leatherwing, I think he would have told us that the harvest-mice, whose history he overheard related by Minimus, abandoned their nest on the thistle, and made themselves a warmer house, deep under the ground, where they passed the cold weather in sleeping, and now and then nibbling the grains of wheat which they had buried with them. The bat has already related how he passed the winter himself, and how he was obliged to waste some part of it in sleep, not altogether from the effects of cold, but also from the want of food. CHAPTER IX.