away to my cave on the farther part of the island, so that I did not let my dream come to pass in that part—namely, that he came into my grove for shelter.

Here I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of water, which I found he was indeed in great distress for by his running; and having refreshed him, I made signs for him to go and lie down to sleep, showing him a place where I had laid some rice straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to sleep upon myself sometimes. the poor creature lay down and went to sleep.

From "Robinson Crusoe," by DANIEL DEFOE.

So

II. FRIDAY AND THE BEAR.

The bear was walking softly on, and offered to meddle with nobody, till Friday, coming pretty near, calls to him, as if the bear could understand him, "Hark ye, hark ye," says Friday, "me speakee with you." We followed at a distance; for now, being come down on the Gascony side of the mountains, we were entered a vast forest, where the country was plain and pretty open, though it had many trees in it scattered here and there.

Friday, who had, as we say, the heels of the bear, came up with him quickly, and took up a great stone and threw it at him, and hit him just on the head, but did no more harm than if he had thrown it against a wall. But it answered Friday's end; for

the rogue was so void of fear that he did it purely to make the bear follow him, and show us some laugh, as he called it. As soon as the bear felt the blow, and saw him, he turns about and comes after him, taking very long strides, and shuffling on at a strange rate, so as would have put a horse to a middling gallop.

Away runs Friday, and takes his course as if he ran towards us for help. So we all resolved to fire at once upon the bear, and deliver my man; though I was angry at him, heartily, for bringing the bear back upon us, when he was going about his own business another way; and especially I was angry that he had turned the bear upon us, and then run away, and I called out, "You dog, is this your making us laugh? Come away, and take your horse, that we may shoot the creature."

He heard me, and cried out, "No shoot, no shoot; stand still, and you get much laugh." And as the nimble creature ran two feet for the bear's one, he turned on a sudden on one side of us, and seeing a great oak tree fit for his purpose, he beckoned to us to follow, and doubling his pace, he gets nimbly up the tree, laying his gun down upon the ground at about five or six yards from the bottom of the tree. The bear soon came to the tree, and we followed at a distance. The first thing he did, he stopped at the gun, smelt to it, but let it lie, and up he scrambles into the tree, climbing like a cat, though so monstrous heavy. I was amazed at the folly, as I thought it, of my man, and could not

for my life see anything to laugh at yet, till, seeing the bear get up the tree, we all rode nearer to him.

When we came to the tree, there was Friday got out to the small end of a large branch, and the bear got about half-way to him. As soon as the bear got out to that part where the limb of the tree was weaker, "Ha!" says he to us, now you see me teachee the bear dance." So he falls a-jumping and shaking the bough; at which the bear began to totter, but stood still, and began to look behind him to see how he should get back. Then, indeed, we did laugh

heartily.

But Friday had not done with him by a great deal. When seeing him stand still, he calls out to him again, as if he had supposed the bear could speak English, "What, you come no farther? Pray you come farther." So he left jumping and shaking the tree, and the bear, just as if he understood what he said, did come a little farther; then he fell a-jumping again, and the bear stopped again. We thought now was a good time to knock him on the head, and called Friday to stand still and we would shoot the bear; but he cried out earnestly, "O pray! O pray! no shoot; me shoot by-and-then;" he would have said by-and-by.

However, to shorten the story, Friday danced so much, and the bear stood so ticklish, that we had laughing enough, but still could not imagine what the fellow would do. For first we thought he depended upon shaking the bear off, and we found

the bear was too cunning for that too; for he would not go out far enough to be thrown down, but clings fast with his great, broad claws and feet: so that we could not imagine what would be the end of it, and what the jest would be at last.

But Friday put us out of doubt quickly; for seeing the bear cling fast to the bough, and that he would not be persuaded to come any farther, "Well, well," says Friday, "you no come farther, me go; you no come to me, me come to you," and, upon this, he goes out to the smaller end of the bough, where it would bend with his weight, and gently lets himself down by it, sliding down the bough till he came near enough to jump down on his feet, and away he runs to his gun, takes it up, and stands still. "Well," said I to him, "Friday, what will you do now? Why don't you shoot him?” "No shoot," says Friday, "no yet; me shoot now, me no kill; me stay, give you one more laugh." And, indeed, so he did, as you will see presently; for when the bear saw his enemy gone, he came back from the bough where he stood, but did it mighty cautiously, looking behind him every step, and coming backward till he got into the body of the tree; then, with the same hinder end foremost, he came down the tree, grasping it with his claws, and moving one foot at a time very leisurely. At this juncture, and just before he could set his hind foot on the ground, Friday stepped up close to him, clapped the muzzle of his piece into his ear, and shot him dead.

From "Robinson Crusoe," by DANIEL DEFOE.

12. THE HURRICANE.

Various portions of our country have, at different periods, suffered severely from the influence of violent storms of wind, some of which have been known to traverse nearly the whole extent of the United States, and to leave such deep impressions in their wake as will not easily be forgotten. Having witnessed one of these awful phenomena in all its grandeur, I will attempt to describe it. Its recollection even now brings with it so disagreeable a sensation, that I feel as if about to be affected by a sudden stoppage of the circulation of my blood.

I had left the village of Shawaney, situated on the banks of the Ohio, on my return from Henderson, which is also situated on the banks of the same beautiful stream. The weather was pleasant, and I thought not warmer than usual at that season. My horse was jogging quietly along, and my thoughts were for once at least in the course of my life entirely engaged in commercial speculations. I had forded Highland Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom land or valley that lay between it and Canoe Creek, when on a sudden I remarked a great difference in the aspect of the heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread the country, and I for some time expected an earthquake. I had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when I thought fit to stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst which had come upon me.

I was leaning on my knees, with my lips about to