FANCIERS’ JOURNAL AND POULTRY EXCHANGE. 
615 
The buck and doe should not be in the same hutch many 
minutes together ; and, for pairing, the months of February 
and March are the best to insure healthy stock ; yet, when 
rabbits are kept in warm, comfortable hutches, they may 
litter all through the year; but, as before said, this should 
not be allowed — five litters during the twelve months are 
ample. If any longer time is allowed between any litter 
than three months, it should be during the coldest weather, 
when to give the does (especially older ones) a little extra 
rest may prove an advantage. During the inclement weather 
of January, extra care, warmth, and feeding must not be 
forgotten. 
MANAGEMENT OF THE DOE. 
Every rabbit breeder ought to know by his stud-book (for 
he will give names to his favorites) the day on which each 
doe is to bring forth. When within a few days of the time 
for littering, the doe will, if of the right sort, furnish suffi- 
cient evidence of the fact, by biting the straw into short 
pieces, and carrying it and the hay (of which she should 
have abundance) in her mouth, to some favorite corner of 
the hutch ; and, here I may state, that the hutch should be 
well cleaned, and disinfected, for this will be the last thor- 
ough cleaning it can have for a short time, in consequence 
of its delicate occupants. The hutch should be dry, and 
placed upon the floor, if not constructed upon the double- 
floor plan. When the thirty days of gestation have expired 
(if the day before, all the safer), the doe should have a little 
clean water or milk to drink, in a separate dish to her ordi- 
nary one, for feeding from. An intense thirst is at times 
experienced at this critical time, and to possess the means 
of relief, is often to save the progeny. At this period, ne- 
glect may be fatal. She must, at the same time, be kept 
quiet, and well fed, to support her in nursing. Take care 
not to handle the young, unless they are deposited in a wet 
place, or any of them die. 
MANAGEMENT OF THE YOUNG. 
The little rabbits are born blind and helpless — covered 
only with a short velvety down. On the fifth day they open 
their eyes ; on the sixth the liveliest little fellows amongst 
them begin to peep outside the nest. At three weeks old 
they eat alone, and partake of food together with their 
mother. At six weeks old they no longer require the doe, 
and ought to be weaned. This short period is quite suffi- 
cient to allow to be spent in the first term of rearing them. 
If they were left longer, they would be apt to exhaust the 
dam, which ought to be avoided. After weaning the little 
rabbits, they should be placed in a large and warm hutch, 
and fed several times a day. At each feeding-time, every 
particle of food which has been trampled upon, is scrupu- 
lously withdrawn, and it is found, that by observing these 
regulations, the losses are very few, or none. 
HANDLING. 
Babbits are sometimes injured by being clumsily handled. 
The proper way is to grasp the ears with the right hand, 
and support the rump with the left. To seize them by the 
leg is apt to dislocate a limb ; an injudicious gripe round 
the neck or the body, may prove unexpectedly and suddenly 
fatal. The instantaneous way in which an adroit hand will 
kill a rabbit, apparently by the merest touch, gives a forci- 
ble hint as to the caution we should use in allowing a favor- 
ite animal to be captured and pulled about by inexperienced 
persons. For does with young, the greatest tenderness is 
indispensable. P. J. Keller. 
Newark, Ohio. 
EXPLOIT OF A ST. BERNARD DOG. 
Dr. Berthier, County Physician, has at the County 
Hospital, situated about a mile and a half east of this city, a 
dog of the St. Bernard breed. This dog is not yet fully 
grown, but, it would seem, has the instincts of his breed 
strong within him. Last Saturday night about eight o’clock 
he rushed about through the hospital, acting in a strange and 
excited manner. It soon became evident that he wanted some 
one to follow him. Dr. Berthier ordered old “Uncle Jim- 
my,” who used to make his headquarters at the station- 
house, but who is now “man Friday” at the hospital, to go 
with the dog, and see what the trouble might be. Finding 
that he had made himself understood, and that Uncle Jimmy 
was prepared to follow, the dog led the way across the coun- 
try through the snow in the direction of the city. At the 
distance of over a quarter of a mile from the hospital, the 
dog, which rejoices in the name of “Major,” descended into 
a ravine. Plunging through the deep snow filling the bot- 
tom of the ravine, the dog went to a big drift and began 
tugging and hauling upon some object buried therein, lifting 
his head occasionally, and uttering a bark to encourage Uncle 
Jimmy, who was wading toward the spot as fast as his short 
legs would carry him. Marvelling greatly, Jimmy ploughed 
his way down the ravine, and reaching the spot where Major 
was at work, saw before him a human being — a woman. 
He at first tried to beat the dog away, thinking — as he is 
rather cross 'at nights about the hospital — that he was hurt- 
ing the woman. He soon saw, however, that the dog was 
careful to lay hold on nothing but the woman’s clothing, and 
that he was doing his best to drag her out of the drift. Jim- 
my managed to lift the woman — who he had found was still 
alive — out of the hole, but was unable to move her from the 
spot, she being so near chilled to death as to be unable to 
stand. Assistance was called from the hospital, and the doc- 
tor turned out with all his nurses and all the convalescents 
about the place. It required the united exertions of six of 
the strongest men that could be mustered to carry the woman 
to the hospital, and after she was housed the doctor and 
nurses worked over her for some hours before she could be 
placed in a bed. The husband of the woman is in the hos- 
pital, and it appears that she left the city late in the evening 
to visit him. Dr. Berthier says that had she remained in 
the snow twenty minutes longer she would have perished. 
The next day, when she came to her senses, she was so much 
ashamed of the affair that she would not see her husband, 
and has since left the hospital without going to his room, 
begging that he might be told nothing of her perilous ad- 
venture. She owes her life to “ Major,” the noble and saga- 
cious St. Bernard. — Virginia City Enterprise. 
A Massachusetts farmer says: “My cattle will 
follow me until I leave the lot, and on the way to the barn- 
yard in the evening stop and call for a lot of hay.” Smithson 
says there is nothing remarkable in that. He went into a 
barnyard in the country one day last week where he had not 
the slightest acquaintance with the cattle, and an old bull 
not only followed him till he left the lot, but took the gate 
off the hinges and raced with him up to the house in the 
most familiar manner possible. Smithson says he has no 
doubt the fellow would have called for something if he had 
waited a little while, but he did not want to keep the folks 
waiting dinner, so he hung one tail of his coat and a piece of 
his pants on the bull’s horns and went into the house. 
