6 stairs the footstep of some one ascending, and through the chinks of the door I see the father, a shaded lantern in one hand, and in the other a huge knife. He came up, and behind him his wife-I standing close behind the door. He opens the door, but before entering he gives the lantern to his wife. Then on bare feet he creeps in, and she behind him whispers: Gently! go gently!' When he reaches the ladder he ascends softly, his knife between his teeth, and approaching the bed on which the poor young man lay extended with throat exposed, with one hand he seizes his knife, and with the other—ah, my friend! he takes hold of a ham which hangs from the roof, cuts a piece out of it, and withdraws as he came. The door closes behind him, the light disappears, and I am left alone with my reflections. When day appeared, we were awoke by the whole family, and a very good, nice breakfast we had, I can assure you. Two fowls were on the table, one of which we had to eat, the other our hostess insisted on our taking with us. When I saw them, I understood the dreadful You have sagacity words, Must we kill both of them?' enough to see what they referred to. HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD. Oh, to be in England, 1. Now that April's there And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf; While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England-now! 2. And after April, when May follows, And the white-throat builds, and all the swallowsHark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dew-drops-at the bent spray's edgeThat's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, BEARS OUT FOR A HOLIDAY. Some seven or eight years ago I was going on foot to Paris. I had started tolerably early, and about noon the fine trees of a forest tempting me at a place where the road makes a sharp turn, I sat down with my back against an oak on a hillock of grass, my feet hanging over a ditch, and began writing in my green book. As I was finishing the fourth line, I vaguely raised my eyes, and I perceived on the other side of the ditch, at the edge of the road straight before, only a few paces off, a bear staring at me fixedly. In broad daylight one does not have the nightmare; one cannot be deceived by a form, by an appearance, by a queer-shaped rock, by an absurd log of wood. At noon, under a May-day sun, one is not subject to illusions. It was indeed a bear, a living bear, a real bear, and, moreover, perfectly hideous. He was gravely seated on his haunches, shewing me the dusty underneath of his hind-paws, all the claws of which I could distinguish, his fore-paws softly crossed over his belly. His jaws were partly open; one of his ears, torn and bleeding, was hanging half off; his lower lip half torn away, shewed his well-bared tusks; one of his eyes was gone, and with the other he was looking at me with a serious air. There was not a woodman in the forest, and what little I could see of the road was entirely deserted. One may sometimes get out of a scrape with a dog by calling Gip or Flora, but what could one say to a bear? Where did he come from? What could it mean, this bear on the Paris high-road? What business could this new sort of vagabond have? It was very strange, very ridiculous, very unreasonable, and, after all, anything but pleasant. I was, I confess, much perplexed. However, I remained immovable. The bear on his side also remained immovable; he even seemed to me, to a certain extent, benevolent. He looked at me as tenderly as a one-eyed bear could look. True, he had his jaws wide open, but he opened them as one opens one's mouth. It was not a grin, it was only a gape. There was something honest, sanctimonious, resigned, and sleepy, about this bear. Upon the whole, his face was so good that I, too, resolved to put a good face on the matter. I accepted the bear as a spectator, and went on with what I had begun. While I was writing, a large fly alighted on the bleeding ear of my spectator. He slowly raised his right paw, and passed it over his ear with a cat-like movement. The fly took itself off. He looked after it as it went; then, when it had disappeared, he seized his two fore-paws, and as if satisfied with this classical attitude, he resumed his contemplation. I assure you I watched his movements with interest. I was beginning to get accustomed to his presence, when an unexpected incident occurred. A noise of hasty steps was heard on the high-road, and all at once I saw turning the corner another bear, a large black bear. The first was brown. This black bear arrived at full trot, and perceiving the brown bear, gracefully rolled himself on the ground by his side. The brown bear did not condescend to look at the black bear, and the black bear did not condescend to look at me. I confess that at sight of this new arrival, which redoubled my perplexity, my hand shook. Two bears! This time it was too much. What did it all mean? Judging from the direction from which the black bear had come, both of them must have set out from Paris, a place where bears are few, especially wild ones. I was all but petrified-the brown bear had at last joined in the gambols of the other, and by dint of rolling in the dust, both of them had become gray. Meanwhile I had risen, and was considering whether I should pick up my stick, which had fallen into the ditch at my feet, when a third bear made his appearance-a reddish, diminutive, deformed bear, still more torn and bloody than the first; then a fourth, then a fifth, and a sixth, the two last trotting in company. The last four bears crossed the road without looking at anything, almost running and as if they were pursued. This became too puzzling. I could not but be near the explanation. I heard barkings and shoutings; ten or twelve bull-dogs, seven or eight men armed with iron-shod sticks, and with muzzles in their hands, ran up at the heels of the fugitive bears. One of these men paused while the others were bringing back the muzzled beasts, and he explained to me this strange riddle. The proprietor of a circus was taking advantage of the Easter holidays to send his bears and his dogs to give some performances in the country. The whole party travelled on foot; at the last resting-place the bears had been loosed, and while their keepers were dining at the neighbouring tavern, they had taken advantage of their liberty to proceed merrily and alone on their journey. They were bears out for a holiday. THE REAPER. 1. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland lass! |