abundance. In this part of northern 
Ohio, where the species is not more 
than fairly common, the birds rarely 
enter the villages, and they nest almost 
exclusively in the woods. ' I am in- 
formed that farther south and west 
they are often seen in villages, and 
nest there in boxes provided, as well 
as in the woods. 
The nest is placed within a box or 
hollow in a tree, a deserted woodpeck- 
er's hole being preferred, where 
leaves, strips of bark, feathers, hair, or 
almost any soft, warm materials are 
arranged carefully, the coarser material 
outward, the finer and warmer inside. 
The eggs range from five to eight in 
number, and are creamy white, rather 
coarsely and evenly marked with 
shades of rufoas brown. They aver- 
age about 73X.54 of an inch. It is 
said that the male bird never assists in 
building the nest, but sings to cheer 
his mate, thus revealing the where- 
abouts of the nest. 
While the northern Ohio woods are 
incomplete without a company of these 
cheerful birds, I have looked in vain 
for them during the early summer 
months in some years. In winter they 
range the woods for food, penetrating 
to every portion of it, stowing them- 
selves away in some warm hollow in a 
tree at night, but in the nesting season 
they are confined to the region of the 
nest, and so are not readily seen. 
EPITAPH ON THE HARE. 
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, 
Nor swifter greyhound follow, 
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, 
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo. 
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, 
Who, nursed with tender care, 
And to domestic bounds confined, 
Was still a wild Jack hare. 
Though duly from my hand he took 
His pittance every night, 
He did it with a jealous look, 
And, when he could, would bite. 
His diet was of wheaten bread, 
And milk, and oats, and straw; 
Thistles, or lettuces instead, 
With sand to scour his maw. 
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, 
On pippin's russet peel, 
And, when his juicy salads failed, 
Sliced carrot pleased him well. 
A Turkey carpet was his lawn, 
Whereon he loved to bound, 
To skip and gambol like a fawn, 
And swing his rump around. 
His frisking was at evening hours, 
For then he lost his fear, 
But most before approaching showers 
Or when a storm was near. 
Eight years and five round rolling moons 
He thus saw steal away, 
Dozing out all his idle noons, 
And every night at play. 
I kept him for his humor's sake, 
For he would oft beguile 
My heart of thoughts that made it ache, 
And force me to a smile. 
But now beneath his walnut shade 
He finds his long last home, 
And waits, in snug concealment laid, 
Till gentler Puss shall come. 
He, still more aged, feels the shocks 
From which no care can save, 
And, partner once of Tiney's box, 
Must soon partake his grave. 
— Cowper. 
