in the farmer's face, and with such admirable effect that, for a few
moments, he was completely blinded, and powerless to revenge himself
upon the rogue, who embraced the opportunity to make good his
escape; but he declared that afterwards his eyes felt as if purged
by fire, and his sight was much clearer.

In March that brief summary of a bear, the raccoon, comes out of his
den in the ledges, and leaves his sharp digitigrade track upon the
snow,--traveling not unfrequently in pairs,--a lean, hungry couple,
bent on pillage and plunder. They have an unenviable time of
it,--feasting in the summer and fall, hibernating in winter, and
starving in spring. In April I have found the young of the previous
year creeping about the fields, so reduced by starvation as to be
quite helpless, and offering no resistance to my taking them up by
the tail and carrying them home.

The old ones also become very much emaciated, and come boldly up to
the barn or other outbuildings in quest of food. I remember, one
morning in early spring, of hearing old Cuff, the farm-dog, barking
vociferously before it was yet light. When we got up we discovered
him, at the foot of an ash-tree standing about thirty rods from the
house, looking up at some gray object in the leafless branches, and
by his manners and his voice evincing great impatience that we were
so tardy in coming to his assistance. Arrived on the spot, we saw in
the tree a coon of unusual size. One bold climber proposed to go up
and shake him down. This was what old Cuff wanted, and he fairly
bounded with delight as he saw his young master shinning up the
tree. Approaching within eight or ten feet of the coon, he seized
the branch to which it clung and shook long and fiercely. But the
coon was in no danger of losing its hold, and, when the climber