"The counsel will proceed," said Smith, with all the gravity of a
judge; "we hope the interruption will not be repeated."

"Well," said Spalding, resuming his narrative, "some fifty years ago,
two enterprising men (brothers) marched into the woods in the town of
Mexico, now in Oswego county, with their axes on their shoulders, and
stout hearts beating in their bosoms. They located a mile or more
apart, and began a warfare, such as civilization wages, against the
old forest trees. Men talk about courage on the battle-field, the
facing of danger amid the conflict of armed hosts, and the crash of
battle. All that is well, but what is such courage, stimulated by
excitement and braced by the ignominy which follows the laggard in
such a strife, to that calm, enduring, moral courage of him who
encounters the toil and hardships incident to the settlement of a new
country, and battles with the dangers, the long years of privation,
which lie before the pioneer who goes into the forest to carve out a
home for himself and his children? How much more noble is such
courage, how infinitely superior is such a warfare, one which mows
down forest trees instead of men, which creates green pastures, broad
meadows, and fields of waving grain, instead of smouldering cities,
and desolated homes! How much more pleasant is the sound of the
woodman's axe, than that of the booming cannon! How much more cheerful
the smoke that goes up from the burning fallow, than that which hangs
in darkness over the desolation of the battle field, beneath which lie
the dead in their stillness, and the wounded in their agony! But I am
losing sight of the bear."

"Exactly so," said the Doctor; "and we have not as yet had the
pleasure of making his acquaintance. Suppose you give us an