in his gun, followed by a little terrier dog that belonged to John E—–.  Old Jenny was busy at the wash-tub, but the moment she saw her master running up the clearing, and knew the cause, she left her work, and snatching up the carving-knife, ran after him, that in case the bear should have the best of the fight, she would be there to help “the masther.”  Finding her shoes incommode her, she flung them off, in order to run faster.  A few minutes after, came the report of the gun, and I heard Moodie halloo to E—–­, who was cutting stakes for a fence in the wood.  I hardly thought it possible that he could have killed the bear, but I ran to the door to listen.  The children were all excitement, which the sight of the black monster, borne down the clearing upon two poles, increased to the wildest demonstrations of joy.  Moodie and John were carrying the prize, and old Jenny, brandishing her carving-knife, followed in the rear.

The rest of the evening was spent in skinning, and cutting up, and salting the ugly creature, whose flesh filled a barrel with excellent meat, in flavour resembling beef, while the short grain and juicy nature of the flesh gave to it the tenderness of mutton.  This was quite a Godsend, and lasted us until we were able to kill two large, fat hogs, in the fall.

A few nights after, Moodie and I encountered the mate of Mrs. Bruin, while returning from a visit to Emilia, in the very depth of the wood.

We had been invited to meet our friend’s father and mother, who had come up on a short visit to the woods; and the evening passed away so pleasantly that it was near midnight before the little party of friends separated.  The moon was down.  The wood, through which we had to return, was very dark; the ground being low and swampy, and the trees thick and tall.  There was, in particular, one very ugly spot, where a small creek crossed the road.  This creek could only be passed by foot-passengers scrambling over a fallen tree, which, in a dark night, was not very easy to find.

I begged a torch of Mr. —–­; but no torch could be found.  Emilia laughed at my fears; still, knowing what a coward I was in the bush of a night, she found up about an inch of candle, which was all that remained from the evening’s entertainment.  This she put into an old lanthorn.

“It will not last you long; but it will carry you over the creek.”

This was something gained, and off we set.

It was so dark in the bush, that our dim candle looked like a solitary red spark in the intense surrounding darkness, and scarcely served to show us the path.

We went chatting along, talking over the news of the evening, Hector running on before us, when I saw a pair of eyes glare upon us from the edge of the swamp, with the green, bright light emitted by the eyes of a cat.

“Did you see those terrible eyes, Moodie?” and I clung, trembling, to his arm.

“What eyes?” said he, feigning ignorance.  “It’s too dark to see anything.  The light is nearly gone, and, if you don’t quicken your pace, and cross the tree before it goes out, you will, perhaps, get your feet wet by falling into the creek.”