My poor father was now lost to us; therefore, my mother set herself busily to work at my education. She divided every day into various portions; and although a large share was given to amusement in which I played with several young bears of my own age, and had sometimes a gambol with other young animals, still there was nothing that gave me more pleasure than the lessons I received from her. For this purpose she would generally take me into some quiet part of the wood. There, under a wide-spreading tree, she taught my young ideas ‘how to shoot!’ One lesson in particular, I remember, as she took great pains to impress it on my memory. I have followed the idea in all my conduct through life and I can truly say with the best results to myself. I will recite for you the verse which tells the lesson she taught
Oh! thou small Bear,
Learn to bear, and forbear,
And of good luck, or good friends, never despair.
A few days after I had received this lesson, I found myself placed in a situation which needed the good advice of the little verse. An extremely well-behaved young pig, and a very merry little fox, with whom I was playing, asked me what I had been doing the other day near a certain hollow tree. I told them I often collected acorns there in the morning and went in the evening to eat them. They said no more, and we went on playing round about the trees—and sometimes climbing up them—that is—the merry little fox and I did this. The young wild pig could not. But after that day, whenever I collected acorns in the morning and put them into the hollow tree, and then went at night to eat them, they were all gone!
One evening, however, as I was returning home after my disappointment and wondering who it could be, I heard a laughing in the thickets, and entering suddenly there I saw the little fox and my friend the wild pig who were just going to run away when they saw me. They both looked very foolish as our eyes met. So the thought struck me that they were the thieves, and I at once accused them. The wild pig became angry and denied that he had stolen a single acorn. He said he would not be called a thief by anybody. The little fox said he had never eaten a single acorn in all his life, nor had his father before him. Also, he said he would not be called a glutton by anybody.
On hearing this I understood how it all was. ‘Jemmy,’ said I, fixing my eyes upon the little fox, ‘Jemmy! you know very well that you stole my acorns. We have often played together and this is the first bad trick you have served me. You know I am quite able to punish you severely, and take your tail away from you. But I forgive you this time.’
Then I turned to the young wild pig and said, ‘Hugo, you have eaten my acorns. You know that I am stronger than you, that I could throw my arms around your neck and give you such a one! (meaning a hard hug)—but I forbear for the sake of our old friendship. I feel sure this will never happen again, and, no doubt, we shall all be better friends than ever.’
At this, the little fox shed a great many tears, and continued to rub his eyes with his little yellow brush for five minutes afterwards. The wild young pig stood silently for some time, as if he were trying to understand all about it. When he did speak it was only ‘ouff’—but I thought he felt what I had said.
At night, when we were going to bed, I told the whole story to my mother. She said I had acted rightly, according to what she had taught me in the verse. ‘For what,’ said she, ‘would have been the use of beating and squeezing the young thieves? It would not have brought back the acorns, and would have made them both enemies in the future, ready to steal anything. But as it is you have got two friends, and lost nothing.’