Fetching and carrying, mistress, maid and man,
Though 'twas so early, going in and out.
To them he told the adventures of the night,
And all were in a great affright;

And all indignant at the thieves' audacity:
"Is it not wonderful?" said they,

"But in the present day

All men, even thieves, have an improved capacity!"

This said, with sudden haste

They called up every guest,

Carter and cattle-drivers, groom and jockey,
And the bear's master, wild and black;
Until the baker thought he was most lucky
To muster such a party at his back.

Unto the house they went, and pulled down, first,

The formidable barricade;

And then they grew afraid,

Lest out the dreadful enemy should burst,
At length, each heart grew bolder,
And o'er his neighbour's shoulder

Each held a lighted candle, and, en masse,
They rushed into the place where Bruin was.
Then, skulking in his shaggy coat, they saw
A frightful something, with a paw!

"Up, up with you at once!"
Shouted poor Bruin's master in his ears,

And he, who was no dunce,

And had so many fears,

And knew that voice so well,

Sprang in a moment to his hinder legs,
Just like a little dog that begs,

And danced a hornpipe to a miracle!
Half angry was the baker, seeing thus,
That after all his fuss

The thieves were nothing but a dancing-bear

And yet he took it in good part,

And tried to laugh with all his heart,
And said it was a joke most capital.
And through all the fair

"Twas told at every booth, and every stall,
What fancy Bruin had for dainty store.
And many people gave him gingerbread,
And he with buns and penny pies was fed,
So that he never fared so well before.

THE

MIGRATION OF THE GREY SQUIRRELS.

A TRAVELLER'S TALE.

BY WILLIAM HOWITT.

WHEN, in my youth, I travell'd
Throughout each north countrie,
Many a strange thing did I hear,
And many a strange thing see.

I sat with small men, in their huts
Built of the drifted snow;

No fire had we but the seal-oil lamp,
Nor other light did know.

For far and wide the plains were lost

For months in the winter dark;

And we heard the growl of the hungry bear,

And the blue fox's bark.

But when the sun rose redly up

To shine for half a year,

Round and round through the skies to sail,

Nor once to disappear;

Then on I went with curious eyes,
And saw where, like to man,
The beaver built its palaces,

And where the ermine ran;

And came where sailed the lonely swans
Wild on their native flood,

And the shy elk grazed up the mossy hills,
And the wolf was in the wood;

And the frosty plains like diamonds shone,
And the iced rocks also,

Like emeralds and like beryls clear,
Till the soft south winds did blow;

And then

upsprung the grass and flower,

Sudden, and sweet, and bright,

And the wild birds fill'd the solitude

With a fervour of delight.

But nothing was there which pleased me more
Than when, in autumn brown,

I came, in the depths of the pathless woods,
To the Grey Squirrels' town.

There were hundreds that in the hollow holes
Of the old, old trees did dwell,
And laid up store, hard by their door,

Of the sweet mast as it fell.

But soon the hungry wild swine came,
And with thievish snouts dug up
Their buried treasure, and left them not
So much as an acorn-cup.

Then did they chatter in angry mood,
And one and all decree,

Into the forests of rich stone-pine,
Over hill and dale to flee.

Over hill and dale, over hill and dale,
For many a league they went,
Like a troop of undaunted travellers,
Governed by one consent.

But the hawk, and eagle, and peering owl, Did dreadfully pursue ;

And the farther the Grey Squirrels went,

The more their perils grew;
And lo! to cut off their pilgrimage,
A broad stream lay in view!

But then did each wondrous creature show His cunning and bravery;

With a piece of the pine-bark in his mouth, Upon the stream came he.