When the female Rabbit is about to begin to rear a family, she quits the ordinary burrows and digs a special tunnel in which to shelter the young family during the first few weeks of life. At the extremity of the burrow she places a large quantity of dried herbage mingled with down from her own body, with which to make a soft and warm bed for the little ones. These are about seven or eight in number, and are born without hair and with closed eyes, which they are only able to open after ten or twelve days. When domesticated the female Rabbit will often devour her young, a practice which has been considered incurable. This propensity has, however, been accounted for by natural causes. It has been the custom to deprive pet Rabbits of water on the ridiculous plea that in a wild state they do not drink, obtaining sufficient moisture from the green herbs and grasses which constitute their food, but in the open country they always feed while the dew lies upon every blade, which of course is never the case with green food with which domestic Rabbits are supplied. Thus have these poor innocents been the victims of ignorance. Rabbits are great depredators in fields, gardens, and plantations, destroying in very wantonness hundreds of plants which they do not care to eat. They do great damage to young trees, stripping them of their tender bark, as far up as they can reach while standing on their hind feet. Sometimes they eat the bark, but in many cases they leave it in heaps upon the ground, having chiseled it from the tree merely for the sake of exercising their teeth and keeping them in good order. [Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences. GRAY RABBIT. 1/2 Life-size. Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.] It is true that most Rabbits burrow in the ground, their burrows having many devious ramifications, but the Cottontail usually makes his home in a little dug-out, concealed under a bush or a tuft of grass. We remember one of these little excavations which we found in a cemetery concealed by the overhanging branches of a rosebush at the foot of a grave. While reading the inscription on the tombstone we were startled by a quick rush from the bush, and discovering the nest, in which there were five tiny young with wide open eyes, we took them up tenderly and carried them home. We too, were young then. Admonished that we had cruelly deprived a mother of her offspring, and that our duty was to return them to her, we unwillingly obeyed, and put them back in the little cavern. They huddled together once more and no doubt were soon welcomed by their parents. A frosty Saturday morning, a light snow covering the ground, a common cur dog, Cottontail tracks, and a small, happy boy. Do you not see yourself as in a vision? THIRTY MILES FOR AN ACORN. Far away I hear a drumming-- Tap, tap, tap! Can the Woodpecker be coming After sap?