They have found a hole within the house into which they run, and whither they have carried shavings and made a nest. Thence they run out

doors, and feed about the house, lurking behind barrels. They eat yarrow, clover, and catnip, and are fed with bread and milk.

a squirrel. That is their common and natural mode of eating.

They are as gray as the old one, or grayer. Mrs. Miles says they sleep on their heads-that is, curling their heads under them; also that they can back as straight into their hole as if they went head foremost. I saw a full-grown one this afternoon, which stood so still and erect, its

paws hanging down, that it might be taken for a short and very stout stake.

I passed a very little boy in the street to-day, who had on a home-made cap of a woodchuck's skin, which his father or older brother had cured, and his mother or older sister had fashioned into a nice warm cap. I was interested by the sight. It brought to mind much of the family history, the story of the capture of the animal, and the care the human parents took of their young these hard times.

Johnny had been promised a cap many times, and now the work was completed. A perfect little poem, it might be called. The cap was large and round, big enough, you would say, for the boy's father; and it had some kind of cloth visor stitched to it.

The top of the cap was evidently the back of the woodchuck, and it was as fresh and handsome as if the woodchuck wore it himself. As if the boy had put his head into the body of the woodchuck, having cut off his tail and legs, and put a visor in place of the head.

The little fellow wore it innocently enough, not knowing what he had on, perhaps; and his eyes sparkled beneath it when I spoke of its warmth, even as the woodchuck's might have done. Such should be the history of every piece of clothing that we wear,

24. BRUIN AND HIS WAYS.

In the same old poem which calls the fox Renard, or the wise one, the bear gets his name Bruin, or the brown one. All children who visit the menagerie soon find out what bears will eat, and many things which they will do. Bruin likes sugar, peanuts, bread, cake, and nearly every good thing his visitors have to spare. Deftly and gracefully he will climb his dead tree, and, sitting on the flat top, he will catch apples in his mouth.

The shuffling, cantering gait he has when he walks, is very droll. This is partly because his legs are limber for climbing, and partly because he sets his feet down flat, and does not walk on his toes as do dogs and cats. Looking at Bruin's teeth, so much like the teeth of the tiger, it might be thought that he, too, is a flesh eater. It is true that the dreadful grizzly bear of the Rocky Mountains and the polar bear of the North live much on animal food.

But the real Bruin the black or brown bearfeeds upon nuts, berries, and grain, though he does not object to an occasional taste of young pig. His teeth, too, if carefully observed, show that they are suited to his needs. The back ones are flatter than are the tiger's, and the

jaws work sideways as well as up and down; so that Bruin can grind as well as cut.

Bears delight in honey, and are willing to endure stinging if they can only rob the wild beetree or the humble bee's nest of their contents. They become familiar with the hum of bees, and the music is pleasant to their ears, for it guides them to the sweet treasures.

On this account the brown bears of Scandanavia are said to be puzzled by the telegraph lines which pass through their wild homes. The wind plays upon the wires and makes them hum, like the buzzing of bees. The bears hear the music, and then dig about the telegraph poles, hoping to find honey. Poor bears! All-FoolsDay comes to them quite often.

It

It would be well to examine Bruin's paws. is easy to see how powerful are his legs, and what ugly claws they are armed with. When he sits up, he can use these paws in striking and boxing with terrible effect; or he can hug a deer so tightly as to squeeze the life out of him.

The brown bear is six feet long and three feet high, and often weighs four hundred pounds. The grizzly is larger, and may weigh a thousand pounds. His claws are sharper, and his strength is immense. He can hold the buffalo in his hug, and with one blow he can remove the scalp of a man. When he is fat, it is almost impossible

to kill him with bullets. Should the hunter be closely pursued, he takes his flight along a hillside if he can, for on such ground the bear makes slow progress.

When winter approaches, Bruin and his companion, now very fat, go into their house in a hollow tree, and sleep until the opening of spring. Then they come out very poor, for their fat has been used by their systems to keep them alive. Their cubs, now the size of kittens, creep out into the strange world with a cry like that of a baby. Mrs. Bruin is very careful of them.