The hedgehog is a queer little animal with short limbs. It feeds mostly on insects. It has its body covered with sharp spines instead of hairs, and can roll itself up in a ball, and thus show an array of prickles pointing in every direction.

Slow of foot, this little creature cannot flee from danger; but in the sharp, hard, and tough prickles of its coat, it has a safeguard better than the teeth and claws of the wildcat, or the fleetness of the hare.

The hedgehog has powerful muscles beneath the skin of the back; and by the aid of these, on the slightest alarm, it rolls itself up so as to have its head and legs hidden in the middle of the ball it thus makes of itself.

Our dog Snip saw a hedgehog, the other day, for the first time. As soon as it saw him, the little creature seemed to change from a live thing into a ball. Snip did not know what to make of it. His curiosity was much excited. He went up, and looked at it.

If the two could have spoken, I think this would have been their talk:—

Snip.—"Of all the queer things I ever saw, you are the queerest. What are you anyhow?"

Hedgehog.—"Suppose you put out your paw, and try."

Snip.—"I don't like the look of those prickles."

Hedgehog.—"Don't be a coward, Snip! Put your nose down, and feel of my nice soft back."

Whether the cunning hedgehog really cheated him by any such remarks as these, I cannot say. But Snip at last mustered courage enough to put his nose down to the ball. Rash Snip! Up rose the bristles, and pricked him so that he ran back to the house, howling and yelping as if he had been shot.

Having put Snip to flight, the hedgehog quietly unrolled itself, thrust out its queer little head with the long snout, and crept along on its way rejoicing. As for Snip, I am quite sure he will never put his nose to the back of a hedgehog again, as long as he lives.