last, and peeped in, just at the instant when the bear came
round the corner.

This was the situation now: Will was looking in after the bear, the bear
had come round after Will, and Dick, on the roof, was trying to get a
good sight at the bear without slipping off. By holding to the hole in
the roof with his foot, he found himself able to peep over the eaves;
and when the bear turned the corner, he with lucky aim, and plucky
quickness put a moose-charge into the back of the creature's head.

Will turned and was putting his gun out to fire, just as Dick dropped
down through the roof. But the bear lay still. Dick's shot had finished
him.

There was, of course, great rejoicing between the two young hunters.
They started a fire, then took off Bruin's skin; and soon some most
delicious bearsteaks were broiling on the coals.

"I don't miss that doughnut at all, somehow," said Will as they sat at
dinner.

A REAL HAPPENING.

Old Beppo and Nina, his wife, with their two boys, lived in one of those
little excavations which everybody who has visited Naples will remember.
I hardly know what to call them, for they certainly do not deserve the
name of dwellings. They are little holes dug in the sandy hillsides just
outside the busy city, where the poor people crawl in at night, and
where they keep their little belongings by day. The poor of Naples live
out of doors, as indeed the poor people all through Southern Italy do;
and it does not seem half as hard to be poor in Italy as elsewhere. The
beautiful, clear, blue sky overhead, and the soft, warm earth to sit and
lie upon, with the delicious air to breathe, and the great Duomos always
open to them where they can go at any hour of the day and feel that they
have just as much right as kings and princes--who wonders that they are
contented, lazy and dreamy? Give a Neapolitan beggar macaroni and
sunshine, and he will sit and dream away the hours with no thought or
care of what will come to-morrow. He has just energy to
whine--"_Poverino Signorina_"--and it matters little whether his
extended hand is filled with _centismi_ or not; according as it may be,
he calls upon the "_Sanctissmi Virgina_" to bless or curse you and sinks
away into dreamy content till the next stranger approaches. Not so with
Old Beppo; he tugged all day grinding out dolorous tunes from his old
organ, and whether people paid him for grinding, or paid him to stop
grinding, all the same Old Beppo though