“Madam,” said the stout gentleman, “you are too kind. It is such very amiable persons as yourself, that reconcile me to my species—I mean, to the human species. What have I said? Not of my species would I willingly speak. But in truth, madam, it is my own knowledge of what I am, under my coat, that makes me always fear my secret has been discovered. I thought the children with their little, quick eyes, always looking about, had seen who it was that lived under this rough coat I wear.”
So saying the stout gentleman put one of his fur gloves to his left eye and wiped away a large tear.
“Then, my dear sir,” said Mrs. Littlepump, “do take off your coat, and permit us to have the pleasure of seeing you take a seat among us round the stove.”
“Oh, ye green woods, dark nights, and rocky caves hidden with hanging weeds, why do I so well remember ye!” exclaimed the stout gentleman, clasping his fur gloves together. “I will relieve my mind and tell you all. My rough coat, the companion of my childhood, and which has grown with my growth, I cannot lay aside. It grows to my skin, madam. My fur gloves are nature’s gift. They were bought at no shop, Mrs. Littlepump. My fur boots are as much a part of me as my beard. Lady, I am, indeed, a foreigner, as to society; I was born in no city, town, or village, but in a cave full of dry leaves and soft twigs. The truth is, I am not a man—but a Bear!”
As he finished speaking he took off his comforter, coat, and cap—and sure enough a Bear he was, and one of the largest that was ever seen!
In a very soft voice, so as scarcely to be heard by anyone except the children who had crowded around her, Margaret began to sing:
“There came a rough-faced Stranger
From the leafless winter woods.”
The children heard Margaret sing, and ventured to look up at the Bear. He continued to stand near the door, and as he hadn’t the least sign of anything savage in his appearance, their fear began to change to curiosity. Two of the youngest had hidden themselves in the folds of Mrs. Littlepump’s dress, and little Val had crept under the table. But when these found that nothing was going to happen, and that the other children did not cry out or seem terrified, they peeped out at the Bear,—then they peeped again. At about the seventh peep they all three left their hiding places and crowded in among the rest—all looking at the Bear!
“I trust,” said Dr. Littlepump, “that this discovery—this casting off all disguise—produces no change in the nature and habits you have learned in civilized society. I feel sure that I am addressing a gentleman, that is to say, a most gentlemanly specimen of bear.”