r teeth set
together, looking as fierce as so many Hospidars. If Bruin had
understood what stuff _a disappointed backwoodsman_ is made of, he
would have kept out of their way--but he didn't; and as their rifles
this time had the genuine "stand and deliver" in 'em, there was nothing
left for him to do, but to cross his paws and surrender.

Didn't they drink cider and crack nuts over the old fellow's remains?
Certainly; they never would have showed _their_ heads at "a raising"
again, I can tell you, hadn't they captured him.

A PEEP THROUGH MY QUIZZING GLASS.

Well, I don't know as there is any use in my sitting here at the window
any longer. Bricks and mortar, mortar and bricks! and little strips of
yards not big enough to swing a cat round in. You may, perhaps you
will, ask with the Frenchman, "Vat for you _want_ to swing a cat
round?"

But there's a choice even in those yards. Now just look at them--there
is _one_, that, small as it is, has its little circular grass plat,
with a hedge of china asters about it, and a little vase in the middle,
from which hang tendrils of the pretty mountain myrtle; a woodbine
creeps over the fence and my favorite tree (the willow) is struggling
for life in yonder corner, and prettier than all, out dances a little
fairy, with shining locks neatly parted, and a clean white pinafore
tucked round her chubby little figure. See her tip-toe round the grass
plat, with eyes as blue as the morning glories she is plucking. How
glad I am she has a mother who teaches her to love the beautiful, and
provides her that pretty little garden.

Now just look in the next yard--it is just the same size as the other,
but poor mother earth lies buried under great flat paving stones; while
strewed over them are old bits of china, and carpeting, and old keg
covers, and old barrels with the hoops dropping off, and an old
tail-less rocking-horse, and a child's chair, trying in vain to stand
on three legs, and a Buffalo skin that is sadly in need of some of
"Bogles Hyperian."

There's a little child dancing out _that_ door, too; now he stands
poised on one foot, and takes a survey of the yard; _unpromising_,
isn't it, dear? Nothing pretty to look at, is there? Aunt Fanny is
sorry for you; if she could get you up here she'd tell you a story. I
know very well what _you_ would tell _her_; that mamma lies in bed
asleep--although it is ten o'clock; that papa has eaten his breakfast
_alone_ and gone down