After thinking a moment, I said, ‘Yes, Mother, but I’ve lost my acorns!’
‘They are not more lost than if you had eaten them,’ said my mother. ‘When a thing is eaten, it is lost. All you have to complain of is that the wild young pig ate them for you. But as you have forgiven him of course you ought to think no more of the matter. Act thus through life toward your fellow creatures. Do so for the sake of the verse I taught you, and trust to nature for good results. Now, child, go to sleep.’
In this manner I passed my early youth and was just coming to my full size and strength when the dreadful thing happened which I spoke of when I first had the honour of talking to the present company. It was the terrible thing which made me an orphan in the world.
We were greeted one evening by a very ragged but wise old ape who had managed to escape from the menagerie in the big city. He was disguised as a Chinese tea-merchant, and he begged a night’s lodging, as he thought himself out of all danger. He told us news about my poor father. He was put in a menagerie in the village and there he grieved himself to death.
My mother never recovered after this sad news. She made no complaint, nor did she appear to give way to grief, but she gradually sank, and sank. Her feet failed her and her teeth fell out. One night, in a more than usually affectionate manner she had her last talk with me. She told me to act always with honesty, truth, and good feeling towards everyone; to bear all injuries and misfortunes as firmly as I could. She begged me in all dealings to keep from feelings of revenge and hatred. She then gave me an embrace, and told me to sleep well, and remember her words. In the morning I found her lying dead upon the moist green grass, with her head gently resting upon one paw.”
As the Bear uttered these last words, he seemed overcome with many feelings and thoughts of other years. Then, suddenly rising from his chair, he hastily put on his hat and cloak, and hurried out of the room. His friends heard the sound of the street-door closing, and two of the children ran on tiptoe to the window; but he was out of sight.
Third Evening
The next evening the children all met again, in the hope that the Good-Natured Bear would come to finish his story.
“I am so much afraid he will never come again,” said Nancy. “What shall we do?”
“What shall we do?” echoed all the children.