he could have shed some tears. Alas, how much does Bruin's condition
remind us of little scenes among ourselves! We give way to our bad
tempers and our selfishness; we make ourselves disagreeable, and our
friends unhappy; we quarrel, if we do not actually fight; and when we
meet the reward of our waywardness, and find ourselves abandoned by
those who would have loved us had we acted differently, we then moan
over our fate, and bitterly regret what we might have avoided. Alas,
poor human nature! alas, poor bear!

I am truly sorry to observe that no act of repentance followed Bruin's
sense of desolation. His first feeling of sorrow over, he felt indignant
that he should have been so treated; but, more than that, as he was
still hungry, he felt regret at being denied a closer search into his
old mother's larder.

Whilst engaged in his various reflections he happened to cast his eyes
up to a neighbouring hollow tree, where, at some height from the ground,
a number of bees were flying in and out a great hole, with all the
bustle and buzzing usual to those busy people. Now, it is well known
that bears are mightily fond of honey, and will run great risks in order
to obtain this dainty, and Bruin was very far from being an exception to
his tribe. He was too ignorant to reflect that it was a great deal too
early in the season to hope for any store, but, consulting only his own
inclinations, he lost no time in climbing up the tree; and when he had
reached the spot where the now angry bees were hurrying to and fro more
vigorously than ever, he thrust his great paw into a hole with the hope
of drawing forth a famous booty. But the indignant insects now came out
in a swarm, and attacked him with the utmost fury; three of them settled
on his nose, and pricked him most unmercifully; a dozen or two planted
themselves on a great patch behind, where his trousers were worn thin;
and a whole troop fastened on to the sore place in his head--for it was
not quite healed up--and so stung him, that, roaring with pain and rage,
he threw himself, rather than descended, from the tree, and went flying
through the wood to get rid of his determined little enemies: they stuck
fast, however, to their points of attack, nor did Bruin get clear of his
tormentors till he dashed himself into a pool of water and buried his
head for a moment or two under the surface.

It was with some degree of trepidation that he raised his nose above
water and peeped ab