THE ADVICE OF HUG-GRIPPY, THE AFFECTIONATE.
The class was just finishing when Hug-grippy, the chief of the Chippewa
bears, appeared upon the scene. He had come on a friendly visit, and
to get a breakfast of ripe raspberries and honey that Robin had
promised him for saving the white pony, Plumpy, from the horns of a
huge elk. He had indulged in a recent meal evidently, for his ribs
bulged out so much and so comically that Chattie shrieked with laughter
and cried out--
"There is more nourishment in fasting sometimes than in eating over
much."
Hug-grippy himself laughed, although had he been thin-skinned he would
not, but he was good-natured, and looking up he merely remarked that
Miss Chattie appeared to him to be uttering a contradiction in some way
or other. For his entertainment the teacher gave the class another
question in division, and Hug-grippy wondered at their cleverness.
"As for me," said he, "I am bad at any kind of counting, but I can't do
division at all. I suppose it's because I----"
"like everything to myself," said Chattie, finishing his sentence and
laughing a her own joke.
When Robin told his class to count the bear's toes, they all jumped
from their seat and seized his feet, and before he could recover from
his mock alarm he was astonished to learn what he never could find out
for himself--that he had no fewer than twenty toes. Then the friskies
jumped upon his great back and head like a lot of monkeys. During the
fun and confusion that followed, Black Ribbon ran to his home (which
was close by) and begged a nut from his mamma; then returning quickly,
he stood upon his hind legs and duly presented it to Hug-grippy. The
great bear looked down, and patting the little fellow on the head,
remarked, with a broad grateful smile, that he was a dear wee boy, fit
to be at the head of his class, if for kindness only. Then turning to
Robin he said--
"I think you should get up a kindness class, and (with a sly twinkle at
Chattie) I shall come along often, not to talk and joke like some
people, but to give the class an opportunity of putting their learning
into practice."
"Very good advice," replied Robin.
Encouraged by this, Hug-grippy continued--
"There is too much teaching of the head in this world, and too little
acting of the heart. Is it not intended that every bit of us should be
exercised? If people neglect kindness, that fine feeling will die."
"Hear, hear," said Robin, "you have spoken well."
"Mind, master Robin," answered Bruin earnestly, "I am not hinting
anything against your class, for the friskies need head treatment, and
I am sure you show them in your own life how to be kind; but they will
be all the better of doing as well as seeing, and so I have humbly
suggested a class for the exercise of the faculty of kindness."
"Thank you, Hug-grippy, the idea is capital. I will raise such a class
very soon, and put my best arithmetic-pupils into it by way of reward."
"Yes," replied Bruin, "the cleverest often need it most, to restore the
proper balance between head and heart; and put Chattie in it," he added
with a funny smile, as he lay down on the grass with his nose between
his toes.
"And Hug-grippy too," cried Chattie.
"Oh no," said the bear, "I am trained."
"But you require to keep up your education, Mr. Bruin."
"True, very true," replied Hug-grippy quietly, "but too much exercise
is bad, and I need an occasional rest. Besides, my dear, the class
must have someone to work upon, someone to whom to be kind." Putting
one of his great paws over his eyes he looked through his claws at
Robin, and with a modest but humorous smile added--
"And if I might venture to speak of myself, I may mention that I am not
unfavorable to honey."
"Oh you cunning rascal," cried the parrot.
"Hush," said the white pony, putting back her ears, "hush, hush."
And Robin laughed.