DEATH OF THE BEAR. 161. 
gry growl. I wished myself at home in bed, or at the an- 
tipodes, or in any place but my present stand-point; for 
remember, reader, my gun was only loaded with duck-shot ; 
and I was young, and, I fear, very soft. It was evident 
_ that my appearance was not intimidating, for my adversary 
neither swerved to right nor left, and his wicked eyes blazed 
forth flashes of malignant hate. Eight or ten yards more 
the distance was diminished, when, whether from fear, cer- 
tain that my last moments had arrived, or knowledge of 
the animal’s habits, I gave a shout—a feeble one, of no dis- 
tinct note, I believe; but the result was fortunate, for the 
foe halted, and really seemed uncomfortable, occasionally. 
glancing around, as if he believed retreat, if possible, would 
be advisable; but second thoughts are not always best. 
The irresolution was fatal, and the bear found it so ulti- 
mately, for he again advanced toward me. When scarcely 
eight yards divided us, a second shout brought him again 
to a halt, and, as he sat up, displaying his teeth—symptoms 
that too truly said, “I will teach you a lesson ”—I let him 
have the contents of the right barrel, aimed for the nose, 
well knowing the shortness of range would throw the pro- 
jectiles up. And so it did. At so short a distance the 
concussion was irresistible; both eyes were destroyed, the 
forehead up to the apex of the crown fearfully cut up, and 
the poor bear rolled over, clawing the injured parts in life’s 
last agony. Without hesitation I delivered the coup de 
grace by discharging the second barrel at the butt of Bruin’s 
ear, thus surely putting a finishing touch to his earthly ca- 
reer. This bear weighed about two hundred and twenty 
pounds, and was, in the vicinity where killed, deemed a 
very large one. 
When in the State of Maine, I was called from my writ- 
ing by the landlord of the small road-side hotel at which I 
was residing. He informed me that a bear had entered 
