that pile of dirt,"
said Barker.

He was right. The earth was shaking in one corner of the enclosure like
an earthquake. I approached cautiously. I saw, what I had not before
noticed, that the ground was thrown up; and there, in the middle of an
immense grave-like cavity, crouched Baby Sylvester, still digging, and
slowly but surely sinking from sight in a mass of dust and clay.

What were his intentions? Whether he was stung by remorse, and wished to
hide himself from my reproachful eyes, or whether he was simply trying
to dry his sirup-besmeared coat, I never shall know; for that day, alas!
was his last with me.

He was pumped upon for two hours, at the end of which time he still
yielded a thin treacle. He was then taken, and carefully inwrapped in
blankets, and locked up in the store-room. The next morning he was
gone! The lower portion of the window sash and pane were gone too.
His successful experiments on the fragile texture of glass at the
confectioner's, on the first day of his entrance to civilization, had
not been lost upon him. His first essay at combining cause and effect
ended in his escape.

Where he went, where he hid, who captured him, if he did not succeed in
reaching the foothills beyond Oakland, even the offer of a large reward,
backed by the efforts of an intelligent police, could not discover. I
never saw him again from that day until--

Did I see him? I was in a horse-car on Sixth Avenue, a few days ago,
when the horses suddenly became unmanageable, and left the track for the
sidewalk, amid the oaths and execrations of the driver. Immediately in
front of the car a crowd had gathered around two performing bears and a
showman. One of the animals, thin, emaciated, and the mere wreck of his
native strength, attracted my attention. I endeavored to attract his. He
turned a pair of bleared, sightless eyes in my direction; but there was
no sign of recognition. I leaned from the car-window, and called softly,
"Baby!" But he did not heed. I closed the window. The car was just
moving on, when he suddenly turned, and, either by accident or design,
thrust a callous paw through the glass.

"It's worth a dollar and half to put in a new pane," said the conductor,
"if folks will play with bears!"

AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN.

In 1858 Fiddletown considered her a very pretty woman. She had a
quantity of light chestnut hair, a good figure, a dazzling complexion,
and a certain languid grace which passe