dead; and, in her retreat, they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling minds to mark the affectionate concern expressed by this poor beast, in the last moments of her expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh which she had fetched away and placed it before them. Seeing that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one and then upon the other, and endeavored to raise them up. It was pitiful to hear her moan.

21. "When she found she could not stir them, she went off, and, stopping when she had got to some distance, she looked back and moaned. When she found that she could not entice them away, she returned, and, smelling around them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time as before, and, having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and, with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round one and round the other, pawing them and moaning. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head toward the ship and growled at the murderers, who then shot her with a volley of musket-balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds."

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW I KILLED A BEAR.

1. So many conflicting accounts have appeared about my casual encounter with an Adirondack bear, last summer, that, in justice to the public, to myself, and to the bear, it is necessary to make a plain statement of the facts. Besides, it is so seldom I have occasion to kill a bear, that the celebration of the exploit may be excused.

2. The encounter was accidental on both sides. I was

not hunting for a bear, and I have no reason to suppose that a bear was looking for me. The fact is, that we were both out blackberrying, and met by chance the usual way. There is among the Adirondack visitors always a great deal of conversation about bears-a general expres

sion of the wish to see one in the woods, and much speculation as to how a person would act, if he or she chanced But bears are scarce and timid, and appear

to meet one.

only to a favored few.

3. It was a warm day in August, just the sort of day when an adventure of any kind seemed impossible. But it occurred to the housekeepers of our cottage to send me to the clearing, on the mountain back of the house, to pick blackberries. It was rather a series of small clearings, running up into the forest, much overgrown with bushes and briers, and not unromantic. Cows pastured there, penetrated through the leafy passages from one opening to another, and browsing among the bushes. I was kindly furnished with a six-quart pail, and told not to be gone long.

4. Not from any predatory instinct, but, to save appearances, I took a gun. It adds to the manly aspects of a person with a tin pail, if he also carries a gun. It was possible I might start up a partridge; though how I was to hit him, if he started up instead of standing still, puzzled me. I prefer the rifle it makes a clean job of death. The rifle was Sharp's-an excellent weapon, belonging to a friend of mine, who had intended, for a good many years back, to kill a deer with it. He could hit a tree with it-if the wind did not blow, and the atmosphere was just right, and the tree was not too far off-nearly every time. Of course, the tree must have some size.

5. In this blackberry-patch, bears had been seen. The summer before, our colored cook, accompanied by a little girl, was picking berries there one day, when a bear came out of the woods, and walked toward them. The girl took to her heels and escaped. Aunt Chloe was paralyzed with terror. Instead of attempting to run, she sat down on the ground, and began to weep and to scream, giving

herself up as lost. The bear was bewildered by this conduct. He approached and looked at her; he walked around and surveyed her. Probably he had never seen a colored person before, and did not know whether she would agree with him. with him. At any rate, after watching her a few moments, he turned about, and went into the forest.

6. When I had climbed the hill, I set my rifle against a tree, and began picking berries, lured on from bush to bush by the black gleam of the fruit, penetrating farther and farther through leaf-shaded cow-paths flecked with sunlight, into clearing after clearing. I could hear on all sides the tinkle of bells, the cracking of sticks, and the stamping of cattle that were taking refuge in the thicket from flies. Occasionally, as I broke through a covert, I encountered a meek cow, who stared at me stupidly for a second, and then shambled off into the brush. I became accustomed to this dumb society, and picked on in silence, attributing all the wood - noises to the cattle, thinking nothing of any real bear.

7. In point of fact, I was thinking of a nice, romantic bear, which I was weaving into a tale, the moral of which was to be kindness to animals, when I happened to look some rods away, to the outer edge of the clearing, and there was the bear. He was standing on his hind-legs, and doing just what I was doing-picking blackberries. With one paw he bent down the bush, while, with the other, he clawed the berries into his mouth-green ones and all. To say that I was astonished is inside the mark. I suddenly discovered that I didn't want to see a bear, after all.

8. At about the same moment the bear saw me, stopped eating berries, and regarded me with a glad surprise. It is all very well to imagine what you would

do under the circumstances. Probably you wouldn't do it I didn't. The bear dropped down on his fore-feet, and came slowly toward me. Climbing a tree was no use with so good a climber in the rear. If I started to run, I had no doubt the bear would give chase; and, although a bear can not run down-hill as fast as he can run up-hill, yet I felt that he could get over this rough, brushtangled ground faster than I could.

9. The bear was approaching. It suddenly occurred to me how I could divert his mind until I could fall back upon my military base. My pail was nearly full of excellent berries-much better than the bear could pick himself. I put the pail on the ground and slowly backed away from it, keeping my eye, as beast-tamers do, on the bear. The ruse succeeded.

10. The bear came up to the berries and stopped. Not accustomed to eat out of a pail, he tipped it over, and nosed about the fruit "gorming" it down, mixed with leaves and dirt, like a pig. The bear is a worse feeder than a pig. Whenever he disturbs a maple-sugar camp in the spring, he always upsets the buckets of sirup, and tramples round in the sticky sweets, wasting more than he eats. The bear's manners are thoroughly

disagreeable.

11. As soon as my enemy's head was down, I started and ran. Somewhat out of breath, and shaky, I reached my faithful rifle. It was not a moment too soon. I heard the bear crashing through the brush after me. Enraged at my duplicity, he was now coming on with blood in his eye. I felt the time of one of us was probably short. The rapidity of thought at such moments of peril is well known. As I was cocking my gun, I made a hasty and unsatisfactory review of my whole life. I noted that, even in such a compulsory review, it is almost impossible