FIGHT WITH A BROWN BEAR.

ONE afternoon a Cossack officer was quietly strolling through the forest, alone and unarmed, botanizing by the way, when, at a short distance from the gold mine, he came out of the forest into an open glade, on which stood some single trees.

Almost immediately on entering this spot, he observed at a distance of two hundred paces a shebear and her two cubs playing together. The moment she became aware of his presence, she uttered a savage growl, drove her young ones into a tree for shelter, and mounted guard at the foot of it to defend them.

The Cossack retreated into the wood to provide himself with a weapon, having determined to carry off the cubs. The woodmen had been cutting timber, and from the stems of several young birchtrees lying on the ground, he selected part of a strong one, nearly four feet in length, tried its quality against a tree in a succession of smart blows, and then, club in hand, retraced his steps.

As soon as the old bear observed his approach, she began to growl furiously, moving to and fro with an uneasy motion at the foot of the tree. He slowly and steadily advanced. When within about one hundred paces, her growl became more savage, and her actions showed that she intended mischief. Nevertheless he quietly moved on, his keen eye steadfastly fixed upon her. The ground was a fine grassy turf, with no shrubs or bushes to impede

his movements or entangle his feet. When within about fifty paces, she made a savage rush that would have daunted most men; but he firmly stood his ground, awaiting her nearer approach. At this moment the cubs began to whine, and she trotted back towards the tree in increased fury. The Cossack followed, and when she turned round they were face to face, within twenty paces of each other. There was now no retreat. The brute eyed him keenly for two or three minutes, as if calculating his strength, he returning her gaze with a searching scrutiny.

Presently she made a second rush, her eyes glaring like balls of fire. At a few paces from her enemy, she rose on her hind legs, intending to give him a settler with her powerful paws, or to clasp him in her savage embrace; but, on the instant, he made a sweep with his club, and dealt a blow that toppled her over. She was up again in a second and ready for action, but another blow laid her prostrate. This added to her ferocity, and it at once became a close encounter of the most deadly and savage character. Many rounds were fought, her antagonist keeping clear of her paws.

At last the blows began to tell on her courage. She endeavoured to get behind him, but his cudgel met her at every turn, and was so well wielded that, whenever within reach, she received a stroke which drove her back, step by step, till both came under the tree.

Here the fight was renewed with increased fury,

and every time the cubs whined she made her attack with redoubled violence. The battle continued to rage furiously; but the blows from the staff fell so fast, and were applied with so much force, that at last she began a retreat towards the forest, the skirts of which she entered; but the

moment her brave assailant moved a step towards the tree she would rush out, taking especial care, however, not to come within his reach.

The cubs remained in the branches, the sole spectators of this extraordinary scene-nor could the Cossack officer devise any plan by which he could get them down. At their respective posts

the combatants stood, he guarding the cubs and the mother standing at the edge of the forest.

At this time a woodman, returning to the gold mine, rode into the glade. He was instantly hailed, and rode towards the tree; but when he heard the growls, and beheld the bear, then in her most savage mood, his natural impulse to bolt was only checked by the fear of a birching promised by his superior. He was ordered to dismount and take from his saddle the large leathern bags and open them, then to climb the tree and bring down the cubs. The man was soon up among the branches, secured a cub, brought it down, and then tied it safe in the bag; the other was also quickly placed beside it in the other bag.

The peasant was now ordered to place the bags. on his horse and lead the way to the gold mine, the Cossack covering the retreat and beating off the enemy at every charge.

After a walk of nearly two hours they reached the village, the bear keeping close up with them. When they reached the village, the Cossack officer hoped to secure the dam; but, after following them to the cottages, she returned to the forest and was never seen again. The cubs were kept and became great favourites with the people.-Atkinson's "Oriental and Western Siberia."

Cos'-sack, the name of a military people, Bot'-an-iz-ing, seeking for and studynoted for their skill as horseing plants.

men, who inhabit the southern Scru'-tin-y, a searching examination. parts of Russia.

THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD.

The King has been hunting in Sherwood Forest (in Nottinghamshire), has been parted from his companions, and has lost his way. He meets a miller (of Mansfield, a village near Nottingham) who at first does not know whom he is addressing.

KING, MILLER, and COURTIER.

King. No, no; this can be no public road, that's certain, I have lost my way undoubtedly. Of what advantage is it now to be a king? Night shows me no respect; I cannot see better than, nor walk so well as, another man. When a king is lost in a wood, what is he more than other men? His wisdom knows not which is north and which is south; his power a beggar's dog would bark at, and the beggar himself would not bow to his greatness. And yet how often are we puffed up with these false attributes! Well, in losing the monarch, I have found the man. But, hark! somebody sure is near. What is it best to do? Will my majesty protect me? No. Throw majesty aside,

then, and let manhood do it.

Miller. I believe I hear the rogue. Who's there?

King. No rogue, I assure you.

Miller. Little better, friend, I believe. Who fired that gun?

King. Not I, indeed.

Miller. You lie, I believe.

King. Lie-lie! how strange it seems to me to be talked to in this style. Upon my word, I don't, sir.