Merry's Adventures.

CHAPTER XVI.

We set out to return.-The woods.-A fierce animal.-A wild adventure.-Repose in the forest.

THE horses and waggons with which we had travelled to Utica, belonging to Mr. Stebbins, he concluded to sell them, as he was offered a much greater price for them than he could have obtained at Salem. This arrangement left Mat Omsted and myself to find our way back on foot, for there were no stages, canalboats, or rail-roads then.

I did not myself dislike the plan, for I was fond of a tramp, especially with so cheerful a companion as Matthew. It had an air of adventure, and so I set off for our return, with as buoyant a feeling as if I had been about to accomplish some great enterprise.

We had each provided ourselves with a bear-skin, which was rolled up and strapped upon the shoulder. Matthew had also obtained a tinder-box, with flint and steel; these precautions being necessary, as it was likely that we might occasionally be obliged to find our lodgings in the forest.

It was a bright morning in the latter part of November, when we departed, and the cheerfulness of the weather found its way to our bosoms. My friend, though not a talkative man, made an occasional sally of wit, and wore a smile upon his face. I was so light of heart as hardly to feel the ground upon which I trod. We marched rapidly on, and in a few hours were several miles from the town, and winding along the devious road that led through the tall forest.

Although the leaves were stripped from the trees, and the flowers were sleeping in their tombs-though the

birds had fled, and their happy minstrelsy was heard no more, still there were signs of cheerfulness around us. The little woodpeckers were creeping up and down the hoary oaks, seeking for the worms that had taken winter quarters in the bark; the partridges were calling their mates by flapping their wings upon some rotten log, thus producing a sound like the roll of a distant drum; the black and gray squirrels, in vast numbers, were holding their revel upon the walnut and chestnut trees, occasionally chasing each other, like birds, among the branches. Small flocks of wild turkeys frequently crossed our path; and now and then a deer bounded before us, gazed backward for a moment, and then, with his tail and antlered head erect, plunged into the wood. We frequently saw racoons amidst the trees, moving about with a kind of gallop, or sitting upon their haunches like monkeys, and using their paws as if they were hands. Sometimes, as we approached them, they sprang up the trees, and having gained a secure elevation, would look down upon us,—their sharp black features assuming almost a smile of derision, and seeming to say, "If you want me, mister, come and get me!"

We marched on, amused by a multitude of little incidents, and as evening approached, had proceeded about five and twenty miles. It was our expectation to spend this night in the woods, and we were beginning to think of seeking a place for repose, when we heard a cry in the distance, like that of a child in distress. We listened for a moment, and then both of us plunged into the forest to seek the cause of this lamentation, and offer relief, if it should be needed. It grew more and more distinct as we proceeded, until at last, when we had reached the spot, beneath a lofty hemlock, whence the sounds seem

ed to issue, it suddenly ceased. We looked around in every direction, and were not a little astonished that no human being was there. The space beneath the tree was open; not a bush or shrub was near to obstruct our sight, or afford concealment to any object that might have been the occasion of the thrilling cries we had heard.

While Matthew and myself stood looking at each other in amazement, I heard a slight rustling in the boughs of the hemlock, over our heads. I turn ed my eyes instantly in that direction, and met the gaze of the fiercest looking animal I had ever beheld. It was of the size of a large dog, with the figure of a cat, and was crouching as if to spring upon its prey. I had not time for reflection, for it leaped like an arrow from the bow, making me the object of its aim. Down came the formidable beast, its jaws expanded, its legs stretched out, and its claws displayed, ready to grapple me as it fell.

By instinct, rather than reason, I bent forward, and the creature passed over my head, striking directly against the foot of a sapling that stood in the way. My friend had seen the whole manœuvre, and was ready, with his uplifted cane, to give him battle. Though stunned, the creature turned upon me, but he received from Matthew a rap over the skull that made him reel. At the same time my friend caught hold of his long tail, and drew him back, for he was at the instant about to fix his fangs upon me. Thus insulted, the enraged brute turned upon his enemy behind; but Mat held on to the tail with one hand, and pummelled him with the other. At the same time, in order to secure his advantage and keep off the teeth and claws of the monster, he gave him a whirling motion. So, round and round they went, the cudgel flying like a flail, and the beast leaping, scratching, and howling, till the woods

There was

echoed with the sound. an odd mixture of sublimity and fun in the affair, that even then, in the moment of peril, I could not fail to feel. Mat's hat had flown off, his hair streamed in the wind, and his glaring eyeballs watching every twist and turn of his enemy; his cane went rapidly up and down; and all the while he was twitched and jerked about in a circle, by the struggles of the beast.

This passed in the space of a few seconds, and I had hardly time to recover my self-possession, before Matthew and the monster were both getting out of breath. I thought it was now time for me to join in the fight, and, approaching the beast, I laid my cane, with the full weight of both hands, over his head. It was a lucky blow, for he instantly staggered and fell upon the ground. Matthew let go his hold, and there lay the beast prostrate before us!

"Better late than never!" said Matthew, puffing like a porpoise. "Better late than never. Whew! I'm as hot as a flap-jack on a griddle,-whew! The unmannerly beast!-whew! So! this is the way of the woods, is it?—whew! You pretend to be a child in distresswhew! and then you expect to make a supper of us!-whew! The infarnal hyppecrite!-whew!"

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Well, what sort of a beast do you call it?" said I.

Why," said my friend, "it's a catamount, or a wild-cat, or a panther-the varmint! It's just like all other scamps; it's got a long parcel of names; in one place it goes by one name, and in another place it goes by another. But it's the most rebellious critter that ever I met with! He came plaguy nigh givin' your hair a combing."

"That he did," said I; "and if you hadn't been here to comb his, I should have had a hard time of it."

"Like as not-like as not," was the

just to look at him. It was like a strip of sunshine, peeping into a dark roomit made all light and pleasant around.

Beside this, Philip had a kind heart; indeed, his face was but a sort of picture of his bosom. But the quality for which he was remarkable, was a disposition to see good things, only, in his friends and companions. He appeared to have no eye for bad qualities. If he noticed the faults, errors, or vices of others, he seldom spoke of them. He never came to his parents and teachers, exaggerating the naughty things that his playmates had done. On the contrary, when he spoke of his friends, it was generally to tell some pleasant thing they had said or done. Even when he felt bound to notice another's fault, he did it only from a sense of duty, and always with reluctance, and in mild and palliating

terms.

Now Frederick was quite the reverse of all this. He loved dearly to tell tales. Every day he came home from school, giving an account of something wrong that had been done by his playmates, or brothers and sisters. He never told any good of them, but took delight only in displaying their faults. He did not tell his parents or teacher these things from a sense of duty, but from love of scandal-from a love of telling unpleasant tales. And, what was the worst part of it all, was this: Frederick's love of talebearing grew upon him, by indulgence, till he would stretch the truth, and make that which was innocent in one of his little friends, appear to be wicked. He seemed to have no eye for pleasant and good things-he only noticed bad ones: nay, more, he fancied that he saw wickedness, when nothing of the kind existed. This evil propensity grew upon him by degrees; for you know that if one gets into a bad practice, and - keeps on in it, it becomes at last a habit which we cannot easily resist. A bad

habit is like an unbroke horse, which will not mind the bit or bridle, and so is very apt to run away with his rider.

It was just so with Frederick: he had got into the habit of looking out for faults, and telling of faults, and now he could see nothing else, and talk of nothing else.

Now the mother of these two boys was a good and wise woman. She noticed the traits of character we have described, in her sons, and while she was pleased with one, she was pained and offended on account of the other. She often talked with Frederick, told him of his fault, and besought him to imitate his amiable brother: but as I have said, Frederick had indulged his love of telling tales, till it had become a habit, and this habit every day ran away with him. At last the mother hit upon a thing that cured Frederick of his vice-and what do you think it was?

I will tell you, if you will just keep out of the way of my great toe. I have got a touch of the gout, boys, and you must be careful. Tom, Jerry, Peter!

don't be so careless! Keep clear of my great toe, I beg of you!

Now I do not believe that any of you can guess what it was that cured master Frederick. It was not a pill, or a poultice; no, it was a story—and as I think it a good one, I will tell it to you.

"There were once two boys," said the mother, "who went forth into the fields. One was named Horace, and the other was named Clarence. The former was fond of anything that was beautiful-of flowers, of sweet odors, of pleasant landscapes. The other loved things that were hideous or hateful-as serpents, and lizards and his favorite haunts were slimy swamps and dingy thickets.

"One day the two boys returned from their rambles; Horace bringing a beautiful and fragrant blossom in his hand,

and Clarence bringing a serpent. They rushed up to their mother, each anxious to show the prize he had won. Clarence was so forward, that he placed the serpent near his mother's hand; whereupon the reptile put forth his forked tongue, and then he fixed his fangs in her flesh.

"In a moment a pain darted through the mother's frame, and her arm began to swell up. She was in great distress, and sent for the physician. When he came, he manifested great alarm, for he said the serpent was an adder, and its bite was fatal, unless he could find a rare flower, for this alone could heal the wound. While he said this, he noticed the blossom which Horace held in his hand. He seized upon it with joy, saying-This, this is the very plant I desired!' He applied it to the wound, and it was healed in an instant.

"But this was not the whole of the story. While these things were taking place, the adder turned upon the hand of Clarence, and inflicted a wound upon it. He screamed aloud, for the pain was very acute. The physician instantly saw what had happened, and applying the healing flower to the poor boy's wound, the pain ceased, as if by enchantment, and he, too, was instantly healed."

Such was the story which the mother told to her two sons. She then asked Frederick if he understood the meaning of the tale. The boy hung his head, and made no answer. The mother then went on as follows:

My dear Frederick-the story means that he who goes forth with a love of the beautiful, the pleasant, the agreeable, is sure to find it: and that he who goes forth to find that which is evil, is also sure to find what he seeks. It means that the former will bring peace and happiness to his mother, his home, his friends; and that the latter will bring

home evil-evil to sting his mother, and evil that will turn and sting himself. The story means that we can find good, if we seek it, in our friends, and that this good is like a sweet flower, a healing plant, imparting peace and happiness to all around. The story means that we can find or fancy evil, if we seek for it, in our friends; but that, like an adder, this only wounds others, and poisons those who love to seize upon it."

Now this was the way the mother cured her son. Frederick took the story to heart; he laid it up in his memory. When he was tempted to look out for the faults of his companions, and to carry them home, he thought of the adder, and turning away from evil, he looked out for good; and it was not long before he was as successful in finding it as his brother Philip.

Resistance to Pain.

On one occasion, while some missionaries at South Africa were at dinner in their tent, some of the native chiefs and their wives being present, one of them seeing Mr. Read, a missionary, help himself to cayenne pepper, its red color attracted his attention, and he asked for some of it. On getting the cayenne, he instantly threw a quantity of it upon his tongue, but on feeling its pungency, he shut his eyes, clapped his hand upon his mouth, and holding down his head, endeavored manfully to conceal the pain. When he was able to look up, he slyly touched Mr. Read with his foot to intimate that he should say nothing, but give the same dose to the others present. Another chief next got some, who also instantly felt its powers; but, understanding the joke, as soon as he was able to speak, he asked for some for his wife; and thus it went round, to the great diversion of all present.