her love for Ben, and her fear of Bruin. She
grew miserably afraid of the bear, and, what was
worse, the bear knew it. She complained to
Ben; but he only said, " Mother, you have only
to be resolute with him. Ellen can drive him away
from the table, because she is not afraid of him."

"But I am afraid of him," said my mother,
"and I think he will do me harm yet."

"Give him a taste of a hot poker, mother, and
I'll answer for him afterwards."

"I would not try it for the world," said my
mother.

The bear had his own way very completely,
till a circumstance occurred which resulted more
favourably for the peace of the family than
my mother's mild remonstrances. We had a
neighbour, a Mr. Bennett, who had a very
lovely daughter of seventeen. Ben fell in love
with her, as in duty bound, she being the
prettiest girl in the New World. He had
been unable to get any clue to her sentiments
towards him. She had spent a considerable
portion of the past year with a married
sister in Stanstead, and Ben and the brother-in-
law being friends, it was there my brother had
seen her. Her coolness towards him was a great
torment to an impulsive lover. I believe Ben
would have served seven years merely to know
how she regarded him. At last he lapsed into a
state so unhappy and anxious that even his bear
could not comfort him. About this time Alice
Bennett came home to remain, and in neighbourly
kindness, she, and a younger sister, came to visit
us. She had never seen Ben's bear, and did
not even know of its existence. Ben shut
Bruin into his bedroom in compliment to our
guests, and the afternoon passed pleasantly to
all but the prisoner. When the time came for
Alice and her sister to go home, my brother and
I prepared to bear them company through the
woods to their opening. Ben incautiously
opened his bedroom for his hat, never thinking
of Bruin, and came running to catch us. The
liberated bear ran after his master, and jumped
for joy upon him, hugging him after the manner
of bears. Alice turned and saw Ben in the (to
her) terrible embrace. She shrieked as a girl
with a good voice only can shriek, but instead
of running away, she rushed up to my brother,
and tried to help him like a brave girl, crying,
"Dear, dear Ben, you will be killed."

My brother threw off the beast, and caught the
fainting Alice to his glad heart, saying, " Dear
Alice, he is a tame bear, do not be afraid."

The poor girl looked like a broken white
lily, she was so frightened at herself and the
bear. She could hardly realise that the bear
was harmless, and she was ashamed of having
been betrayed into such an avowal of a tenderness
for Ben. When she recovered her wits,
she said, " 0, I'll never come here again."

"Indeed you will," said Ben. " I'll banish
Bruin, or imprison him, or do anything you
wish."

It was surprising how clear-sighted Ben
became regarding faults on the bear's part that he
had heretofore made light of. My mother had
no need to complain of stolen butter, or a highway
robbery of honey on its way from the pantry
to the tea-table. Ben suddenly discovered that
his pet was a nuisance. " I don't see how you
have borne with him so long, mother," he said, in
the most considerate manner, when he had taken
a plum-pudding from a plate in my mother's
hands, and had made his way to the woods
with it.

"I am glad you saw him take it," said my
mother.

"He must have a prison," said Ben.

And so it came to pass that the poor bear
was chained, in the centre of the space that had
been cleared and levelled for our new house,
with the light surveyor's chain used to measure
land. The bear immediately described a
circle, limited by the length of his chain, which
he walked over, turning a somersault always at
one point, and only stopping to eat, or pay
attention to Ben, if he came in his vicinity.
Why he inaugurated this particular and peculiar
exercise I am unable to say, but I
have often noticed a tame bear keep up the
circle and the somersault hour after hour, and
day after day. He did not tug at his chain,
nor quarrel with it, as we poor mortals do with
chains, but apparently accepted it as a provision
of Ben's superior wisdom. This view of the
case, if he took it, was sure to be abandoned at
bedtime, when he would inevitably break his
chain, to get into his master's bedroom. His
indomitable desire to lie on the foot of Ben's
bed, or to hug an old vest under it, was sure
to make him break away from any breakable
restraint. Therefore a prison was made for him.
It was made of small logs, " cobbed up:" that
is, the ends notched with an axe, and the end of
a log fitted into each notch. The roof was of
boards destined for the new house, held in place
by heavy stones. The first night the poor beast
occupied his new den, he raised the boards in
his struggle to get out, impelled by the desire
to seek his master. He got his head out, and
then hung by his neck, and so was choked to
death. I shed some tears for him, and my
mother rejoiced. I think Ben was not very
sorry. Under other circumstances he would
have mourned for the loss of his sublimely ugly
pet; but he had a new and life-long pet in prospect
—perhaps many other pets after that— and
he had no need of, and no place for, a bear.

          ON THE SOUTH COAST.

IF I want to taste the very essence of early
English history, I betake me to the southern
counties of our island, and more especially to
those parts which border on the Channel. At
Dover I behold the cliffs and beach where the
great Caesar came with his Roman legions, and
his eagles that had glittered in the sunlight of
half the countries on the globe. Round the
eastern corner of Kent, where Thanet juts into
the sea, and North Foreland and South Foreland
ruffle the waters, to the great anguish of cockney