The cracking
of branches, and the heavy tread of some large animal, sounded close
beside us.
Moodie turned the open lanthorn in the direction from whence the
sounds came, and shouted as loud as he could, at the same time
endeavouring to urge forward the fear-stricken dog, whose cowardice
was only equalled by my own.
Just at that critical moment the wick of the candle flickered a
moment in the socket, and expired. We were left, in perfect
darkness, alone with the bear - for such we supposed the animal
to be.
My heart beat audibly; a cold perspiration was streaming down my
face, but I neither shrieked nor attempted to run. I don't know how
Moodie got me over the creek. One of my feet slipped into the water,
but, expecting, as I did every moment, to be devoured by master
Bruin, that was a thing of no consequence. My husband was laughing
at my fears, and every now and then he turned towards our companion,
who continued following us at no great distance, and gave him an
encouraging shout. Glad enough was I when I saw the gleam of the
light from our little cabin window shine out among the trees; and,
the moment I got within the clearing I ran, without stopping until
I was safely within the house. John was sitting up for us, nursing
Donald. He listened with great interest to our adventure with the
bear, and thought that Bruin was very good to let us escape without
one affectionate hug.
"Perhaps it would have been otherwise had he known, Moodie, that you
had not only killed his good lady, but were dining sumptuously off
her carcass every day."
The bear was determined to have something in return for the loss of
his wife. Several nights after this, our slumbers were disturbed,
about midnight, by an awful yell, and old Jenny shook violently at
our chamber door.
"Masther, masther, dear! Get up wid you this moment, or the bear
will desthroy the cattle intirely."
Half asleep, Moodie sprang from his bed, seized his gun, and ran
out. I threw my large cloak round me, struck a light, and followed
him to the door. The moment the latter was unclosed, some calves
that we were rearing rushed into the kitchen, closely followed
by the larger beasts, who came bellowing headlong down the hill,
pursued by the bear.
It was a laughable scene, as shown by that paltry tallow-candle.
Moodie, in his night-shirt, taking aim at something in the darkness,
surrounded by the terrified animals; old Jenny, with a large knife
in her hand, holding on to the white skirts of her master's garment,
making outcry loud enough to frighten away all the wild beasts in
the bush - herself almost in a state of nudity.
"Och, masther, dear! don't timpt the ill-conditioned crathur wid
charging too near; think of the wife and the childher. Let me come
at the rampaging baste, an' I'll stick the knife into the heart of
him."
Moodie fired. The bear retreated up the clearing, with a low growl.
Moodie and Jenny pursued him some way, but it was too dark to
discern any object at a distance. I, for my part, stood at the open
door, laughing until the tears ran down my cheeks, at the glaring
eyes of the oxen, their ears erect, and their tails carried
gracefully on a level with their backs, as they stared at me and the
light, in blank astonishment. The noise of the gun had just roused
John E - - from his slumbers. He was no less amused than myself,
until he saw that a fine yearling heifer was bleeding, and found,
upon examination, that the poor animal, having been in the claws
of the bear, was dangerously, if not mortally hurt.
"I hope," he cried, "that the brute has not touched my foal!"
I pointed to the black face of the filly peeping over the back
of an elderly cow.
"You see, John, that Bruin preferred veal; there's your 'horsey,'
as Dunbar calls her, safe, and laughing at you."
Moodie and Jenny now returned from the pursuit of the bear. E - -
fastened all the cattle into the back yard, close to the house. By
daylight he and Moodie had started in chase of Bruin, whom they
tracked by his blood some way into the bush; but here he entirely
escaped their search.
THE BEARS OF CANADA
Oh! BEAR me from this savage land of BEARS,
For 'tis indeed UNBEARABLE to me:
I'd rather cope with vilest worldly cares,
Or writhe with cruel sickness of the sea.
Oh! BEAR me to my own BEAR land of hills,[1]
Where I'd be sure brave BEAR-legg'd lads to see -
BEAR cakes, BEAR rocks, and whiskey stills,
And BEAR-legg'd nymphs, to smile once more on me.
I'd BEAR the heat, I'd BEAR the freezing air
Of equatorial realm or Arctic sea,
I'd sit all BEAR at night, and watch the Northern BEAR,
And bless my soul that he was far from me.
I'd BEAR the poor-rates, tithes, and all the ills
John Bull must BEAR, (who takes them all, poor sinner!
As patients do, when forced to gulp down pills,
And water-gruel drink in lieu of dinner).
I'd BEAR the BARENESS of all barren lands
Before I'd BEAR the BEARISHNESS of this;
BARE head, BEAR feet, BEAR legs, BEAR hands,
BEAR everything, but want of social bliss.
But should I die in this drear land of BEARS,
Oh! ship me off, my friends, discharge the sable wearers,
For if you don't, in spite of priests and prayers,
The BEARS will come, and eat up corpse and BEARERS.
J.W.D.M.
