THE RABBIT. 231 



when the family was at church, undermining the 

 summer-house quite oblivious of the fact that the 

 cony had long ago escaped from the other side, 

 and was now safely under the bridge. 



There followed a very severe winter, and the 

 rabbit, hard pressed for food, took to gnawing 

 the bark from the garden trees, spoiling numbers 

 of them, so that a price was placed upon his head. 

 I could have shot him any day, but had not the 

 heart to do so, since he had thrown himself on my 

 charity, and regarded me entirely as a friend. So 

 I saw to it that all household refuse suitable for 

 rabbit consumption was placed near the door at 

 his disposal, and for weeks the cony fed at the 

 kitchen door, thriving and keeping fit during that 

 terrible spell of snow and frost. 



This rabbit had no burrow, but in the alder- 

 grove he had many seats. It was a walled-off 

 patch of land, overgrown with coarse grass a tiny 

 corner which belonged, I believe, to the church, but 

 in which no one seemed to be interested. Here 

 my little friend had fine-weather seats and wet- 

 weather seats, hot-weather seats and cold-weather 

 seats. Some were open and faced south, so as to 

 catch all the sun ; others were mere shady summer- 

 houses facing east ; while still others were deep 

 down in the grass, secure from wet and wind. 



In the end this rabbit met a sad fate. Frightened 

 by village children one stormy April evening, he 

 sought his old sanctuary under the bridge, and a 

 few minutes later the burn began rapidly to rise. 

 The rabbit evidently stuck it till he was flooded 

 out ; then, forced to swim, he took to the water. 

 As bad luck would have it, the two sheep-dogs, 

 which he had fooled a hundred times, were just at 

 that moment crossing the bridge as they brought 



