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rolled over and over, and tore out each other's greyish-brown wool in great masses. The old bear had the best of it, however, and sat up, uttering frightful growls at the smaller bear. By this moment I had reloaded, and sent a bullet into the brute near the heart. With one bound it leapt on its foe, which tried to escape it, but the old bear held it tight in its fore-claws, and dug its monstrous teeth into the other's back. The other bear defended itself desperately, and soon found that the old brute's strength was giving way: it sprang on it and buried its tusks in its chest, and standing over it, tore it up with its two hind-paws.

I was certain of the victory, and was so careless as not to reload my rifle, but fired my second barrel at the younger bear without concealing myself properly behind the rock. I hit it well, but it scarce felt my bullet ere it turned its savage head towards me, and galloped towards the rock with an awful roar. In an instant it reached the base of my fortress, and sprang with its forelegs on the first layer, while it opened its blood-stained throat, and, with smoking breath, uttered the most fearful sounds.

At the moment when it raised itself on the rock I held my revolver as near as I could, and fired between its small glowing eyes: it fell back, but at once got up again, and tried still more furiously to scale the rock, by springing with all four feet at once upon the first stage, and raised its blood-dripping face just under me. I had pulled out my second revolver, and held it cocked in my left hand. I pointed both barrels at the monster's head and fired them together: it turned over, and rolled motionless on to the ground. I looked at the two others which still lay quiet side by side, and could scarce believe my eyes as they gazed down on the victory which I had gained over these three terrors of the desert. I quickly reloaded, and looked around carefully from my fort, especially in the direction from whence the brutes had come, for other male bears might easily follow their track. could see nothing to alarm me, and now sprang down from the rock with Trusty, went cautiously up to the bears, and found them all lifeless. They were three monstrous


brutes: the old bear must have weighed at least 1500 lbs., the she-bear 1000 lbs., and the smaller bear 800 lbs.

These beasts are often found on the Rocky Mountains, where they are very numerous, as the hunters do not care to pursue them. Everybody is glad to get out of their way, and only uses weapons against them when he is attacked, or can fire at them from a place of safety, such as a boat on a river, when the bears are on land, or from a stout tree. The Indians also only fight them in self-defence, and hence their claws are considered the greatest mark of honour with which they can adorn themselves. The value of a "grizzly" stands in no proportion to the danger the hunter incurs in pursuing it, for its hide is too heavy, and its hair not so fine as that of the black bear: it never becomes so fat as the latter, and its flesh is not so delicate. Hence people are glad to avoid it, and the hunter willingly surrenders his booty to it, when, on following the bloody track of a head of game, he runs a risk of being caught up by the "grizzly." This animal does not know what fearis, and once irritated it will fight and hit as long as it is able. I know instances in which a "grizzly" had some thirty bullets in its body ere it was killed; but if hit at the right spot, it falls as easily as any other animal. The she-bear gives birth, from November to January, to two or four cubs, which soon follow it on its forays, and are trained to hunt, which speedily develops the savage, cruel qualities of the young monsters. It hunts both in the mountains and on the prairies: in the former it lays in wait for the game, and darts down from the rocks on its unhappy victim, while on the latter it will chase its terrified quarry for miles, and mercilessly rend it when captured. For instance, it seizes buffaloes, horses, wild cattle, &c., at full gallop by the hocks, tears out the sinews, and in a second renders them incapable of flying farther. When caught quite young and trained, these animals become very tame, but they must never be trusted, as any negligence may cost one's life, and I knew several instances on the frontier of men being torn by such tamed bears, or at least losing an arm or a leg.


12. SUNSET. (Shelley.)

This beautiful example of calm and tranquil expression, requires attention, principally to the perfect" purity" and smoothness of the voice, quiet, level tones, and long pauses. The action is but slight and occasional.

"Tis the set of sun.
How like a hero who hath run his course,
In glory doth he die! His parting smile
Hath something holy in it, and doth stir
Regret, but soft and unallied to pain,-
To see him quietly sink and sink away,
Until on yonder western mountain's top,
Lingering he rests at last, and leaves a look
More beautiful than e'er he shed before:
A parting present, felt by all that loved
And flourished in his warm creative smile.
Nor unattended does he quit the world,
For there's a stillness in this golden hour,
Observable by all; the birds that trilled,
And shook their ruffled plumes for joy to see
His coming in the morning, sing no more:
Or if a solitary note be heard,

Or the deep lowing of the distant beast,
"Tis but to mark the silence. Like to this,
In the great city, the cathedral clock,
Lifting its iron tongue, doth seem to stay
Time for a moment, while it calls aloud

To student's or to sick man's watchful ear,
"Now goes the midnight." Then I love to

And hearkening to the church memorial, deem

That sometimes it may sound a different tale,

And, upwards to the stars and mighty moon, Send hollow tidings from this dreaming world,

Proclaiming all below as calm as they.

13. JUBAL AND CAIN. (Montgomery.)
The main distinction of epic style in re-
citation lies in dignity of effect, arising
from firm and well-sustained voice, delibe-
rate utterance, and full-toned expression,
though not so varied as in lyric style. The
action is, in such passages, elevated and
energetic, but not vehement, unless in the
more graphic and dramatic parts.

HERE Jubal paused; for grim before him lay,
Couched like a lion watching for his prey,
With blood-red eye of fascinating fire,
Fixed, like the gazing serpents, on the lyre,

An awful form, that through the gloom appeared,

Half brute, half human; whose terrific beard,

Like eagle's plumage ruffled by the air, Veiled a sad wreck of grandeur and of grace ;

And hoary flakes of long dishevelled hair,

Limbs torn and wounded, a majestic face
Deep-ploughed by Time, and ghastly pale
with woes,

That goaded till remorse to madness rose ;
Haunted by phantoms, he had fled his home,
With savage beasts in solitude to roam;
Wild as the waves, and wandering as the

No art could tame him, and no chains could

Already seven disastrous years had shed
Mildew and blast on his unsheltered head;
His brain was smitten by the sun at noon,
His heart was withered by the cold night

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O'er all the strings; whence in a whirlwind

Such tones of terror, dissonance, despair,
As till that hour had never jarred in air.-
Astonished into marble at the shock,
Backward stood Cain, unconscious as a

Cold, breathless, motionless, through all his

But soon his visage quickened into flame,
When Jubal's hand the crashing jargon
To melting harmony, and nimbly ranged
From chord to chord, ascending sweet and

Then rolling down in thunder on the ear;
With power the pulse of anguish to re-

And charm the evil spirit from the brain.

Slowly recovering from that trance profound,

Bewildered, touched, transported with the sound,

Cain viewed himself, the bard, the earth, the sky,

While wonder flashed and faded in his eye,
And reason, by alternate frenzy crossed,
Now seemed restored, and now for ever lost.
So shines the moon, by glimpses, through
her shrouds,

When windy Darkness rides upon the clouds,
Till through the blue serene, and silent night,
She reigns in full tranquillity of light.
Jubal, with eager hope, beheld the chase
Of strong emotions hurrying o'er his face,
And waked his noblest numbers to control
The tide and tempest of the maniac's soul;
Through many a maze of melody they flew,
They rose like incense, they distilled like

Poured through the sufferer's breast delicious balm,

And soothed remembrance till remorse grew calm,

Till Cain forsook the solitary wild,

Led by the minstrel, like a weaned child.

Oh! had you seen him to his home restored,

How young and old ran forth to meet their lord;

How friends and kindred on his neck did fall, Weeping aloud, while Cain outwept them all : But hush!-thenceforward, when recoiling

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In chains of harmony the mightiest mind:
Thus Music's empire in the soul began;
The first-born Poet ruled the first-born Man.

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Which the first stroke of coming strife
Would startle into hideous life;
So dense, so still the Austrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
Impregnable their front appears,
All horrent with projected spears,
Whose polished points before them shine,
From flank to flank one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers' splendours run
Along the billows, to the sun.
Opposed to these a hovering band
Contended for their native land;
Peasants, whose new-found strength had

From many necks the ignoble yoke,
And forged their fetters into swords,
On equal terms to fight their lords;
And what insurgent rage had gained,
In many a mortal fray maintained:
Marshalled, once more, at Freedom's call,
They came to conquer or to fall,—
Where he who conquered, he who fell,
Was deemed a dead or living Tell!-
Such virtue had that patriot breathed,
So to the soil his soul bequeathed,
That wheresoe'er his arrows flew,
Heroes in his own likeness grew,
And warriors sprang from every sod
Which his awakening footstep trod.

And now the work of life and death

Hung on the passing of a breath:

The fire of conflict burned within,---
The battle trembled to begin.
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was nowhere found;
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
Where'er the impatient Switers gazed,
The line 'twere suicide to meet,
And perish at their tyrants' feet:--
How could they rest within their graves,
And leave their homes, the homes of


Would they not feel their children tread
It must not be:-this day, this hour,
With clanging chains above their head?
Annihilates the oppressor's power.

14. ARNOLD WINKELRIED. (James Mont-All Switzerland is in the field ;—


See remarks formerly made on ballad style.
"MAKE way for Liberty!" he cried ;-
Made way for Liberty and died!
In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood!-
A wall, where every conscious stone
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown;
A rampart all assaults to bear,

Till time to dust their frames should wear;
A wood, like that enchanted grove
In which with fiends Rinaldo strove,
Where every silent tree possessed
A spirit prisoned in its breast,

She will not fly,--she can not yield,— She must not fall: her better fate

Here gives her an immortal date.

Few were the numbers she could boast;
But every freeman was a host,
And felt as though himself were he
On whose sole arm hung victory.
It did depend on one indeed;
Behold him,-Arnold Winkelried!
There sounds not to the trump of fame
The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long,
Till you might see, with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face,

And by the motion of his form
Anticipate the bursting storm;
And by the uplifting of his brow

Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But 'twas no sooner thought than done,
The field was in a moment won :-
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried,
Then ran with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp ;-
Ten spears he swept within his grasp;-
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried :
Their keen points met from side to side ;-
He bowed amongst them like a tree,
And thus made way for Liberty.
Swift to the breach his comrades fly:
"Make way for Liberty !" they cry,
And through the Austrian phalanx dart,

As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While, instantaneous as his fall,

Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all :-
An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free;
Thus Death made way for Liberty!



SOME don't believe in ghosts. I do;
For my good grandmamma declares,
When Aunt Maria died, she met

A white cat flying down the stairs;

And when her uncle's ship was lost,

And all his money, goods, and land Fell to her share, a red-hot purse Jumped from the fire, and scorched her hand;

That when with measles I fell ill,

A winding-sheet was in the taper; She showed my Pa, who shouted, "Fudge! I'll stop your superstitious caper,"

And flung the candle in the street,

By which she says the charm was broken;

For I got well within a week,

And since she never had a token. Now, putting grandmamma aside,

To tell a tale I wish partic'lar;
'Twill make the curliest of hair,
As Shakspere says, stand perpendic❜lar.
Young maiden, if a tear you have

Put by, prepare to shed it now;
And, matron, draw your 'kerchief forth,
To cool your fear-perspiring brow.
And, youth, in Glenfield starch erect,

Ease your cravat, nor heed revealings; And, grandsire, get your snuff-box out, For this will surely touch your feelings.


Hard by the Old Kent Road, there lived,
Some eighteen months ago,

A man who dressed in corded breech,
And stockings white as snow;

In coat of velvet green, and vest
Of yellow, blue, and red;
With hob-nailed boots upon his feet,
A felt hat on his head.

He was not short, he was not tall,
Though fat beyond a doubt;
And though he earned his bread by milk,
Each day he got more stout.

He said he was a dairyman,

But still no cows had he;

Save one of chalk, upon a shelf,
Of great antiquity.

He to a cow-yard hied each morn,
Before the break of day,

For fresh supplies-some said he passed
A pump upon his way,

And that he stopped as he returned;

And vulgar men would chaff,

And shout as he cried " Milk Be-low!" "Let's 'ave some arf-an'-arf."

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One morning, as he went to serve
A house in Surrey Square,
Some naughty boys had made a slide
Upon the terrace there.

He slipped upon the greasy spot,
And then, alas! alack!

He lost his feet, let go his can,
And fell upon his back.

A sympathetic housemaid flew,
And helped him to arise,
With sorrow pictured in her face,
And pity in her eyes.

She led him to the kitchen fire,

Some comforts to bestow; And as she gave him toast and tea, Sly Cupid struck a blow:

For ere he'd had the seventh round,
Poor Milk Be-low began

To feel a something at his chest-
He was an altered man.

He twirled his thumbs, he rolled his eyes,
Upon his feet did start;
And then in broken accents said,
"Ave-you-got-a sweet-'art ?"

The maiden blushed, and cried, "Get out!"
Said he, "I'm not in fun;

If you'll 'ave me, why I'll 'ave
And then the matter's done."


Said she, "What do you earn per week?"
Said he, "A pund-and more."
Said she, "It ain't enough !"—said he,
"What will yer bargain for ?"

Said she, "When you earns one pun-ten,
I may." Said he, "Agreed!
I'll do it in a month; I'll break
My neck, but I'll succeed."

Ah, love! ah woe! poor Milk Be-low,
That was a fatal boast;

Would that you ne'er had seen that girl,
Nor ate her buttered toast!

Would that you'd never made a slip,
Unhappiest of men!

Would that you'd shunned that fatal cup!
Of tea- -'twas two and ten.

A week passed on, and by his smiles
"Twere easy to perceive,
Whatever other people thought,
He saw no cause to grieve.

Each day he tarried at the pump
Much longer than of yore,
Forgetting that, while he grew rich,
His milk was growing poor.

At last his customers began

To grumble and complain,

And one, a waggish doctor, said,

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He'd water on his brain."

And ere a fortnight had expired His milk had grown so thin, That five-and-twenty all at once Refused to take it in.

But worse than all, his lady-love,
Who saw how things would go,
Informed him she had changed her mind,
And got another beau.

That night-it was a foggy one

A man was seen to glide

Down the 'Kent Road, with a clothes-line
All dangling by his side.

At length he paused before a pump,
Which rose full ten feet high,
He raised the handle and there fell-
Some water-from his eye.

He placed his foot upon the spout,
His rope slung round the top,
Then let his neck into the noose,
And took his final drop.

Scarce had the morrow dawned, when one,
A man infirm and old,

Came there to wash some water-cress,
And found him stiff and cold.

A jury on his body sat,

And when they had deplored The suicidal deed, they found--"Died of his own a(c)cord."

One would have thought that of this world He'd had enough; but no,

Each midnight by the pump is seen

The Ghost of Milk Be-low.

He fills his can, then softly says, "Gad, but it's growin' thin;

I hate adulteration, or

I'd put some whitening in."

And when the early village cock
Declares 'tis break of day,

He mutters, "Yes, the breakfast milk,"
And vanishes away.

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