MONNEHAN. 159 



backed hogs brought out to Oregon. These 

 hogs ate the rattlesnakes. But we must 

 get on with the bear story; for this man 

 Monnehan, who came to us the year 

 the black, razor-backed hogs came, was, 

 as I may have said before, "a mighty 

 hunter." 



The great high hills back of our house, 

 black and wild and woody, were full of 

 bear. There were several kinds of bear 

 there in those days. 



"How big is this ere brown bear, 

 Squire?" asked Monnehan. 



"Well," answered my father, "almost as 

 big as a small sawmill when in active 

 operation." 



"Oi think Oi'll confine me operations, for 

 this hunting sayson, to the smaller spacies 

 o' bear," said Mr. Monnehan, as he arose 

 with a thoughtful face and laid his pipe 

 on the mantel-piece. 



A few mornings later you would have 

 thought, on looking at our porch, that a 

 very large negro from a very muddy place 



