Imatges de pàgina
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"And has he left his birds and flowers,

And must I call in vain ?

And, through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?

"And by the brook, and in the glade,
Are all our wanderings o'er ?

Oh, while my brother with me play'd,
Would I had loved him more!"

Mrs. Hemans.

III.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE WHITE BEAR.

You can easily suppose what the delight of the ship's company would be when a bear came in sight of their vessel, and how officers and men would be out of the ship in no time, giving chase to the unlucky beast; whilst the dogs would share in the pleasurable excitement. Besides, it was not only a pleasurable but a profitable pursuit; for could they but catch Bruin, they could have plenty of good food for the dogs for three weeks; but, unfortunately, they were seldom successful. Though several were fired at, only two were secured and brought safely on board the "Fox."1 Greenlanders are very fond of bears' flesh, but English people never eat it unless short of fresh meat; they do not like its fishy flavour. The Arctic bear is much larger than the brown and black bear of Europe and America; some of them are from eleven to

thirteen feet in length: they are quite white, except the tip of their noses and claws, which are jet black. They live in the summer in caverns in the ice, and are expert swimmers, swimming from one ice-island to another; they are remarkably fond of their young, and will die rather than desert them. In the midst of the winter they bury themselves in the snow, or hide in caverns until the sun appears, when they begin to prowl about once more. Their usual food consists of seals and fish; but when on shore they prey on hares and birds, and eat such berries and roots as they can find. They are very inoffensive, only attacking the natives in self-defence. The Arctic bears are great thieves, never failing to rob an Esquimaux cache if they can meet with one. These caches are made of heaps of loose stones, under which the Esquimaux hide their store of seal's flesh, blubber,2 and other valuables, whilst wandering from place to place in search of more. Mr. Bruin is a capital seal-catcher, and seldom lets one escape after he has set his mind upon it. He silently approaches his prey, until he comes within a short distance of where the seal is lying; then he dives under the water, and comes up at the very spot where his victim is basking in fancied security.3 But though Mr. Bruin is so expert in fishing for himself, yet he keeps a sharp look-out upon other seal-catchers, and takes great interest in their nets, helping himself very frequently in an unexpected and inopportune manner, as you will see by the following anecdote, which is in Captain M'Clintock's journal :

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"One dreary day, two men went to visit their nets, hoping to discover seals in them; one had just spied a very fine seal in his net, and was kneeling down upon the ice trying to disentangle it, when he felt some one give him a tap on his back. Thinking it was his comrade, he continued his occupation without taking any notice, when a second and heavier blow made him look up, and to his horror he saw a grim old bear standing by his side instead of his companion. Without touching the man, Bruin very composedly tore the seal from the net, and in the coolest manner possible, set about devouring his supper, in which process you might be quite sure the frightened man did not wish to disturb him, but slipped away as quickly as he could."

From The Little Fox, by S. T. C.

IV.

THE CATARACT OF LODORE.

"How does the Water

Come down at Lodore ?"

My little boy ask'd me

Thus, once on a time;

And moreover he tasked me

To tell him in rhyme.

Anon at the word,

There first came one daughter

And then came another,

To second and third

The request of their brother,
And to hear how the Water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time

They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store;
And 'twas in my vocation
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate 1
To them and the King.
From its sources which well
In the Tarn 2 on the fell;
From its fountains

In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;3

Through moss and through brake,

It runs and it creeps
For awhile, till its sleeps
In its own little Lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,

Hurry-scurry.

Here it comes sparkling,

And there it lies darkling;

Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place

Of its deep descent.

The Cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging

Its caverns and rocks among :

Rising and leaping,

Sinking and creeping,

Swelling and sweeping,

Showering and springing,

Flying and flinging,

Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,

Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound;
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;

Confounding, astounding,

Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.

Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,

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