the wooden bars of my cell, with both arms, and crushed three of them
together. I jumped down upon the floor of the caravan, and scrambled up
to the window. It was too small to let my body through, but I tore away
the framework and out I got, and leaped down upon fresh, cool grass
in the fresh, cool, night air! Oh, what delight after that steaming
hot caravan! I ran off as fast as I could. A few stars were shining.
Luckily there was no moon. Our caravan had fortunately been fixed
outside the town, so that I had no gates to pass through. I scampered
along, dodging between the trees of the avenue just as if I had been
pursued, though not a soul was to be seen at that hour; then I cut
across some fields and reached a vineyard. Scrambling on through garden
and orchard and wood, I came to the highroad which led to a large city.
Again I plunged into some vineyards till suddenly I came to a great
river which I swam quickly across and landed a little above a village.
Again I lost myself in the vineyards, but I did the best I could to
avoid villages and pathways leading to towns, for I feared I might meet
a party of travelers who would make it known where they had seen me.
I knew there would be a wide search for me. So I made my way upward
towards some distant mountains. At last I came to a forest where the
trees were very large. Up one of them I slowly climbed, being careful
not to scrape or leave any marks upon the bark of the tree. Choosing a
snug place where several large boughs crossed each other, I bent some
of the smaller ones round about, so that I was carefully hidden from
all eyes below.
The next morning, as I was sure would be the case, I heard all sorts
of noises of hunters and dogs all over the country. Several parties
passed directly beneath the tree where I was seated. I heard one of
the dogs give such a sniff. Oh! how closely I hugged the trunk of that
tree, with my nose pointing up the stem, and not once venturing to look
down! I hoped with all my heart not to be seen. This search continued
for several days round about me. I never descended and I had nothing to
eat. Once it rained in the night, and I drank the water off the leaves,
taking whole bunches at a time into my mouth. This quite refreshed me.
Nobody ever found me out, except that one morning an old crow with a
bright, black eye, came and peeped at me, but as soon as he saw who it
was he flew away, crying out, ‘_Lawk! Lawk!_’
At length the search after me was continued in other parts of the
country, and one night I came down to stretch my legs, and sniff about
a bit, and see what the world was made of--ahem! I had not walked
far before I came to a spot where the hunters had paused to rest and
refresh themselves. Here I found two things which had been dropped by
some accident--namely, a purse with some money in it and a very large
pork pie! The purse I placed in a thicket under a stone, but I had
immediate need of the pie. I ate half of it that night; I was so very
hungry. The remainder I carried with me up the tree, and made it last
five days.
Though I never stopped watching or forgot my caution, the fear I at
first had of being discovered and recaptured was very much lessened,
so that my mind was free to follow its own course of self-improvement.
I continued to practice speaking with the greatest care, repeating all
the sentences I knew, and every word I could recollect. I did this so
often in order to master the pronunciation that sometimes when I ceased
I had a pain in my lower jaw, which lasted for half an hour. However, I
continually persevered. I had now practised speaking a human language
for nearly twelve years. I spoke very badly I knew; still, I had
sometimes found what I said in the dark when I was in the menagerie,
had been understood and I was full of hope. How and in what manner to
make my first appearance among mankind, was quite a puzzle to me. One
preparation as to my personal appearance I knew I must make. I grieved
at it. I objected to the narrowness of mind which I knew made it
necessary,--yet I knew also that it must be done.
In the early morning of the world, everything was new and wonderful
beyond all doubt; but not more new and wonderful than useful and
necessary to carry out the future business of creation. Who can
deny the high origin of tails? The first animal who was active and
well-formed must have had a tail. Of its great importance it would
take too much time at present to speak. But even in these modern times
how much use and ornament it possesses must be seen by everybody when
they think of the lion, the dog, the eagle, the swallow, the monkey,
the squirrel, and the fish. Running, leaping, flying, swimming are all
helped very much indeed by the tail. Of its use as a fan in sultry
weather, as a whisker-away of gnats and flies, I will make no mention.
Then, what a tail the beaver has and who is more skilful than he? I
will stop. You see I have no tail. Since I had made up my mind to live
with mankind it was necessary to accept most of their customs. In
short, I found I must give up my tail. This I did at the sacrifice of
some private feelings, I assure you.
You must be curious, I think, to hear how I made my first appearance
among the circles of mankind, and I will hasten to tell you. Most
fortunately, I had a little money, the value of which I knew pretty
well. I made my way cautiously across the country into a town one dark
evening of a market-day, and with my money I managed to purchase a
large pair of shoes, a pair of cow-skin gloves, a piece of gingerbread,
and a sheet of white paper. With these materials I made my way to a
large city where a great fair was being held.
I chose a dark corner on the outskirts of the fair and spread my sheet
of white paper upon the ground. On this white paper I placed a score
of gingerbread pills, and, with beating heart and shaking limbs, I
addressed the human race on the subject of pills, for I had heard
people were very much interested in this subject. I was so alarmed at
speaking to a group of such wise beings that even at the time I did
not well know what I was saying. However, the moment I began to speak,
a number of persons came round me and laughed loudly. I thought I was
found out, and stopped.
‘Go on, Doctor! Go on!’ cried they. So I went on. A crowd soon
collected, all of whom laughed very much, saying, ‘What a voice! Look
at his nose! Did you ever hear such language! What a figure!’
They bought all my gingerbread pills in a very short time, and I was
only able to make my escape by telling them I must go to my lodgings
for some more.
Oh, how shall I describe the joy and exultation I felt at the great
success of my experiment upon the wise and generous human race! I was
obliged to double the price of my gingerbread pills in order to prevent
them from going so fast. Everything I said produced immense laughter,
even when I myself knew I had said no witty or sensible thing at all,
while any ordinary reply was received with shouts of applause. They
believed that my strange voice, dialect, face, figure, and behaviour
were all a part of my make-up, and that I was acting a part! In fact,
they thought I could speak and appear very differently, if I liked. I
did not feel altogether pleased at this discovery; but I was obliged to
take what came and make the most of it. I, therefore, spoke as well as
I could, and when I made some shocking blunder, I allowed the people to
suppose that I knew better.
I now took my position in society. I had lodgings in a house, and I
slept in a bed! I shall never forget the first night I slept in a bed.
How I stood looking at the snow-white luxury! and walked round it
softly, holding my breath. I touched it very gently, but at last I did
muster courage and actually got between the sheets!
I visited other large fairs with increased success, so that in the
course of a year or two I had gained a great sum of money.
I soon became famous at all the great fairs where, by some, I was
called the Whimsical Doctor, on account of my odd dress, face, and
voice, all of which people regarded as my make-up. Several wealthy
people whom I met at these fairs offered to go into partnership with
me. At last I consented. I took as my partner a clever man named
Tobias, who was a jeweller. He sold all his jewels, or rather, he
turned all his jewels into gingerbread, and we made wagon-loads of
gingerbread pills. In making the large quantities of these, however,
Tobias talked to me in a way which caused me to feel, for the first
time, that this method of dealing with the human race was not
honourable. I began to see that human beings were not so wise as I had
imagined, and that nobody ought to cheat them. The more my partner
talked over our success the more I felt we were rogues. So one morning
I told him that I wished to dissolve our partnership. ‘Ah,’ said he,
‘then, as you leave me, of course you will leave with me all the stock
in trade, and all the money, too.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘not all the money.
Take all the pills, and welcome; but give me back half the money.’ He
refused. We spoke sharply to each other and suddenly he said to me,
angrily, ‘You shall have nothing. If you say anything more I will tell
what I have found out about you. I know what you are. You are not a
man--but a _bear_!’
I was thunderstruck! I fell back into my infant years as if I had
fallen over a cliff. I felt I was a bear! But the next moment I
seized Tobias in my arms, and lifted him up in the air, saying in a
loud voice: ‘Wicked fellow! what shall I do to you?’ At this moment,
however, I recollected my mother’s words. I set him down upon the
ground, where he stood quite breathless with fright. Then I said to
him, ‘Ungrateful man--dishonest partner,--take my money and go thy ways
in peace.’
Not knowing what to do, and certainly not knowing what to think, I
wandered about the country. Sometimes I sat under hedges and puzzled
my brains to understand what sort of thing human reason was. I never
could make it out. However, I knew that I was an imposter,--though an
innocent imposter, since I could not help wearing a fur coat and a long
nose.
One day when I was seated under a tree, eating a turnip, who should
pass by but Tobias, all in rags, and looking very ill. Suddenly, he saw
me, uttered a cry, and fell down in a fit. I went to him and placed
the cool wet leaves of my turnip across his temples. This seemed to
revive him and do him good. When he saw that I had no intention to
hurt him he asked me to carry him to the nearest peasant’s cottage. I
did so and was going away when he called me back and said, ‘I behaved
very badly to you, but I was punished. When you left me nobody would
buy the pills. The people called loudly for the Wonderful Doctor with
the fur coat and the large nose who talked so oddly. As you were not
to be found, they said I was a rascal, and an impostor, and they drove
me out of the town. I was quite ruined. They seized all our pills and
flung them about and the boys pelted each other with pill-boxes in the
streets for at least three hours. The very same wonderful pills the
world had just before been running after.’
In a few months after this Tobias had a fortune left him by a relation.
He sent for me, begged my pardon for his previous behaviour, set me up
in business as a merchant, and took great pains to instruct me. In the
winter I dealt in pickles and preserves; and in the summer I carried
on a wholesale trade in silks and velvets. He wanted me to sell furs
also, but I declined that. These occupations I have followed ever
since, with great industry and good success. Meantime, however, at all
leisure hours I have tried to improve my mind by various studies, and,
among others, I even managed to make some progress in mathematics.”
As Mr. Bear said this, all the children thought directly of Uncle
Abraham, the mathematician, and were so sorry he was not present to
hear about these studies.
“I should now,” continued the stout gentleman, “consider myself very
happy, but for one circumstance. I confess I do not like to mention it.
How can this small heart contain
So large a world of joy and pain;
And how can this small tongue declare
All that is felt so deeply there!
Alas, poor Bear!--Alas, poor Bear!
You will all readily understand that to have raised myself by my own
efforts so much above the rest of my species, I must have had a nature
open to many thoughts and feelings; and that the peculiar tenderness
instilled by my mother had grown with my growth, and made me open to
all the softer emotions.”
Mr. Bear here paused and gave a deep sigh. Several of the younger
children sighed too. Gretchen fixed her eyes upon the floor.
“I was not aware for some time,” said the sorrowful gentleman in the
rough coat, “of what kind of feelings had begun to possess me. I felt
I was alone in the world. I had long felt that,--but I had so much
to do, so much to learn and struggle with, and work at, and so much
travelling about and business to attend to, that I did not feel this
being alone as any great grief. Besides, as I had been successful in
the various difficult things I had attempted, and had for a long time
been very fortunate in all my affairs of business, I was in the habit
of regarding myself as a happy person. And I _was_ happy, until I
began to think that others were more so, and then I saw it was because
others, who were happy, could share it with those they loved and also
give happiness to the dear object. But I was alone in the world. I
had nobody to love. Nobody would ever love me,--except another bear.
And you know that the love of another bear was out of the question to
one in my advanced state of refinement. What was I to do? I could have
loved a dear object--a great many, I am sure--I was going to say--I beg
pardon--I do not quite well know _what_ I say at this exciting moment.
But--let me try to tell you, that I felt it impossible to live all my
life without some tender acquaintance with the little god of love, and
as I was by this time long past the season of youth, I was resolved to
let my heart be lost with the first object that should present herself
to my fancy.
But, strange to relate, no sooner had I made up my mind to fall in love
with the first amiable and lovely person I saw than I ceased to meet
with any such as I often used to see before. So I began to think the
wish had left me, and I determined to study something very difficult
in order to occupy my mind, and perhaps cure myself of these lovely
fancies. I, therefore, decided to take a course of studies under Mr.
Professor Abraham Littlepump, and with that view I first came to this
village. I arrived in the evening as you know, but did not intend to
have made my visit till next morning, had I not been attracted by the
loud merriment of our young friends here. It has always happened that
Mr. Professor Abraham Littlepump has been absent when I paid you a
visit; but this does not concern me in regard to the mathematics. I
have seen one here in this room--who has put all the mathematics clean
out of my head. And now comes the end of my story.”
As Mr. Bear uttered those words everybody began to look all round the
room and then at each other and then all round the room again.
“Who can Mr. Good-Natured Bear mean?” said Nancy in a whisper to one of
the older boys.
“Margaret dear,” said little Valentine, “your ears are as red as my
scarlet-runner.”
“Silence!” said Dr. Littlepump.
“Pity an unfortunate creature,” said the stout gentleman. “I have at
length seen the object of my devout wishes. Yes, in this very room in
this house--have I seen just exactly what I have been speaking of. You
understand me?” There was no answer.
“Oh, that I could have had the honour and happiness of being your
brother Abraham! I would have devoted my mind to far more beautiful
thoughts. Seated in his arm-chair and thinking about mathematical
problems he never dreamed of the charming object that was continually
before him, sometimes singing to the children, sometimes teaching them
to read, and to dance, sometimes working with her delightful needle.
Oh, let me change places with him--the cold, insensible, stick of a
slate pencil! Now I know what I am saying--or rather I do not very well
know what I am saying.”
Poor Mr. Bear here began to cry, and several of the children cried too.
But he went on with his strange speech all the same.
“Let Mr. Professor Uncle Abraham stay where he is, with his problems
and dumps, and let me be allowed to remain in his place and sit in
his chair, so that I may enjoy the happy society of the sweet-voiced
Margaret, nursery-governess in the amiable family of Mr. Dr.
Littlepump.”
As he concluded the last sentence the unhappy gentleman sank back in
his chair, and Gretchen covered her face entirely with both hands.
“I only dare to speak of my affection for this sweet creature. I know I
am old for her, too ugly, besides being a Bear. I know I have no hope,
but what can I do? How can I help this beating heart? What is to become
of me?”
By this time all the children had tears in their eyes. Nancy and little
Valentine, however, got close to Gretchen, holding her fast on each
side, for fear that perhaps poor Mr. Bear might want to carry her away.
Everybody was silent.
At last Nancy ventured to say in a trembling voice, “Perhaps, dear Mr.
Bear, you might find somebody else?”
“Oh, that I had eloquence!” exclaimed the Bear. “Oh, that the best
words would come of themselves in the best places, while other best
words were getting themselves ready to be poured out! Then I should
be able to touch the human heart. But, as it is, all my hopes are
vanity,--are in fact nothing at all. I must leave this busy scene and
go to some quiet place where I am not known. I will again visit the
haunts of my childhood and stay there. Oh! my native woods! Ye silent
nights, ye small bright stars playing bo-peep through the boughs into
hollow caves! I will go back among you, and in the cool, green grass
will I lay my head. Farewell! Farewell!”
“But can nothing be done for you, sir?” said Mrs. Littlepump in a soft
voice.
“My dear Margaret,” said Doctor Littlepump, “you hear what Mrs.
Littlepump asks. It is for you to make some kind of an answer. I wish
my brother Abraham were here!”
“I can never love the gentleman in the rough coat,” said Margaret,
still holding one hand before her face. “I do not mind his being much
older than myself, nor do I think him so very, very ugly--only, he is a
Bear!”
“I am a devoted Bear!” declared the stout gentleman with enthusiasm,
“and I will be anything else I can, that the dear object may command.”
“I have had a dream!” said Margaret timidly looking up and waiting. “I
have had a dream!”
“So have I,” said Dr. Littlepump sternly. “Come, come, I begin to feel
uncomfortable.”
“Do not feel so!” exclaimed Mr. Bear, clasping his paws together.
“Make haste!” continued the Doctor, fixing his eyes upon Margaret.
“Make haste! Let us hear your dream.”
“I dreamed,” said Margaret, trembling, “that Mr. Bear must go into that
closet, and be locked in. Then, all the children were to form a magic
circle in the middle of the room, and move slowly round, hand in hand,
nine times, saying:
‘Oh, Mr. Bear!
Cupid hears your fond prayer!
Remember your mother’s words,--never despair!’
After this, a glass of lemonade and a slice of cake were to be placed
ready for each to take the moment the door was opened, and they saw
that the charm was complete. I dreamed this would cause Mr. Bear to be
made happy somehow. And then----”
“And then?” said Dr. Littlepump, “what then? I repeat I am beginning to
feel very uncomfortable. I smell a plot!”
“Oh, we shall soon see what the dream will do,” said Mrs. Littlepump.
“Mr. Bear, will you run all risks of what may happen, and go into the
closet?”
“I will do anything, dear Mrs. Littlepump!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. Saying
this, he ran towards the closet headforemost. The door was open. The
children all peeped in and looked round cautiously to see if anybody
was there, but it was quite empty. A large mirror hung on the wall, at
the further end. Mr. Bear stepped in, and waited for what might happen
to him.
“All in the dark!” said little Valentine, “and the door locked!”
The children now formed a circle in the middle of the room, and while
Margaret was pouring out glasses of lemonade, and Lydia and Dorothea
were cutting slices of cake, and Wallis was cleaning his spectacles,
and Dr. and Mrs. Littlepump were standing silently holding each other
by both hands--the children turned in a circle nine times, repeating
the words of the charm:
“Oh, Mr. Bear!
Cupid hears your fond prayer!
Remember your mother’s words--never despair.”
When they had finished Mrs. Littlepump unlocked the closet door.
Everybody was so silent.
“Margaret,” whispered Mrs. Littlepump, “go and tap at the door.”
Margaret did so, and then the door slowly began to open. It stopped
opening, and a voice inside said, “You must take my hand, or I cannot
come out.”
And then a well-formed hand was put forth. With a face all scarlet with
blushes Margaret gently took it. And then--who should come out of the
closet but dear Uncle Abraham!
“Here is dear Uncle Abraham!” shouted all the children, “but where is
the Bear?”
The children all ran right into the closet, scrambling, squeaking, and
searching all about, but finding nothing! Soon they came crowding, and
began to run round Uncle Abraham.
“Where is the fascinating rough gentleman?” cried everybody in the room.
“_Here I am!_” exclaimed a soft hoarse voice, as if from a great
distance.
They all looked round and round. Nobody like Mr. Bear was to be seen.
“_I am become a happy Shadow!_” continued the voice, “_and I have left
my dear friend and mathematical tutor in my place!_”
The voice seemed still as distant as before; and yet, somehow, it
appeared to come from the closet. Into the closet, therefore, all the
children again rushed pell mell. They were no sooner in than they
suddenly gave a great shout;--and then became quite silent as with some
new wonder.
The rest of the party hastened to the closet. The children were all
looking in the mirror which hung at the other end, and in it were
distinctly seen the reflection in miniature of Mr. Bear, very nicely
shaved round the chin, and dressed as a nobleman in a court dress.
He was dancing a polka on the lawn of a castle made of clouds, with
another Shadow dressed exactly like Margaret, only still prettier,
while the figure of Cupid sat on the tip-top of one of the turrets,
holding his quiver like a violin, and playing delightfully upon it with
his bow.
Presently the whole vanished. There was nothing to be seen in the
mirror except the wondering faces of those who went close up to it.
Out came all the children, one by one, with looks of equal pleasure and
bewilderment.
“I was not altogether prepared for this,” said Dr. Littlepump.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Littlepump, “the Land of Shadows is full of delights
of all kinds; and as to your brother’s affair of the heart, it is not
the first time that a grave man fell in love with a merry girl. It was,
at least, as natural in him as in Mr. Bear--not to speak unkindly or
disrespectfully of our dear departed friend.”
“But it certainly is the first time,” said Dr. Littlepump, “that a
Bear, however good-natured, was so lucky as to become a Happy Shadow,
such as you describe, and to be able to bequeath a young bride to his
tutor. In fact, my brain is confused upon several points. And the more
I reflect, the more my head goes round. Brother! I always used to
consider you a strong-minded man--but now----”
“You will dance at my wedding!” said Abraham Littlepump.
“I will,” said Dr. Littlepump. “God bless you, brother Abraham.
Good-natured Bear, indeed! Poor gentleman! I do not mean to say
anything at all unkind--but I _do_ say, bless my soul!”
“My good brother,” said Abraham Littlepump, “as for Mr. Bear, we shall
ever retain the tenderest recollections of him. He was thrown upon an
unfeeling world, and was unhappy. But he is very happy now, somewhere
else. For has he not vanished into the Land of Shadows, there to dance
forever on a green lawn, with the image of his adorations!”
“I rejoice extremely to hear it!” cried Dr. Littlepump, catching up his
flute; “and I feel persuaded that I am at this moment inspired to play
the very same polka which Cupid has just played to Mr. Bear and his
bride!”
At this the children all set up a long hearty shout of applause; and
when they were quite done Dr. Littlepump applauded himself--at which
they all began again. Then the children, still laughing, formed a
circle, hand in hand, round Dr. and Mrs. Littlepump, and Abraham
Littlepump and Margaret, and danced round and round them. And they sang
the following rhyme, in which the Bear was lovingly included, just as
if he had been present, because his memory was so dear to them all. The
Doctor accompanied them on his flute.
“Oh, Doctor! Oh, Bear!
Oh, new-married pair!
Of good luck and good friends
Oh, never despair!”
Abraham Littlepump now became so overjoyed, that he was unable to
contain himself. He hugged them all round, and finally catching the
Doctor in his arms, made him get up behind him pick-a-back. Then Mrs.
Littlepump and Margaret joined hands with the circle of children, and
they all danced round the two brothers, singing the rhyme again, while
the Doctor flourished his flute in the air, like the conductor of some
great band of music.
CHRISTMAS WISHES
LOUISE CHOLLET