"Tell me a story about a bear,
A great big bear who lived in a wood
And ate little children." "O, my dear,
The bears I know of were playful and good,
And lived in houses or parks or a pen,
And never ate children, or boys, or men.
"There was one snow white, a mother bear,--
With two little babies cunning and queer;
Who rolled and climbed and stood on their heads,
And fell over, as boys often do, I fear.
They hugged their mother, and talked in their way,
And kept still when they'd nothing to do or say."
"No, I mean a real bear out in the woods,
Who growls and chases you, makes you run,
Half scared to death,--and a little boy lost
Out in the woods and the night coming on;
And the terrible bear with his great fierce eyes,
And no one to hear the little child's cries!
"He runs and runs,"--and then Bertie smiles,
His climax reached,--"I was only in fun;
The bear didn't kill him, because, you see,
There was just behind a man with a gun,
And he shot! Bang! Down came the old bear;
'Twas his own little boy and he saved him--there!"
[Illustration: {BERTIE AND THE BEAR.}]
"O, I am so glad!" and I give him a kiss;
Then silent we sit for a moment or two.
"That's a boy's story; yours, you know,
For nice little girls very well will do.
But boys, you remember, grow up to be men,
And can fight the bears to their very den."