the little village where my aunt and uncle were, living, there were great
tracts of unbroken swamps and forests, which of course sheltered many wild
animals. A sad accident happened a few days before we arrived, which
caused much sorrow, and no little fright, in the place.

"An old man went out into the woods one morning with his little grandson,
to look for the oxen, which had strayed from the clearing. They had not
gone many yards from the enclosure when they heard a crackling and
rustling among the underwood and dry timbers that strewed the ground. The
old man, thinking it was caused by the cattle they were looking for, bade
the little boy go forward and drive them, on the track; but in a few
minutes he heard a fearful cry from the child, and hurrying forward
through the tangled brushwood, saw the poor little boy in the deadly grasp
of a huge black bear, who was making off at a fast trot with his prey.

"The old man was unarmed, and too feeble to pursue the dreadful beast. He
could only wring his hands and rend his grey hairs in grief and terror;
but his lamentations would not restore the child to life. A band of
hunters and lumberers, armed with rifles and knives, turned out to beat
the woods, and were not long in tracking the savage animal to his retreat
in a neighbouring cedar swamp. A few fragments of the child's dress were
all that remained of him; but the villagers had the satisfaction of
killing the great she-bear with her two half-grown cubs. The magistrates
of the district gave them a large sum for shooting these creatures, and
the skins were sold, and the money given to the Barents of the little boy;
but no money could console them for the loss of their beloved child.

"The flesh of the bear is eaten both by Indians and hunters; it is like
coarse beef. The hams are cured a led, the woods disappear. The axe and
the fire destroy the haunts that sheltered these wild beasts, and they