The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1891-11-20


county then contained less than three th0us-
and inhabitants. less than one half the num-
ber i'm Owosso to-day. The great majority
of farmers owned only an OK team. Our
nearest certain market for anything was
Detroit, which practically was weeks
journey away, twice as far as New York
now. The roads, what few we had, through
the dense forests were nearly impossible
for one half the time. Our grain and hay,
what little we had, were gathered by the
slow process of manual labor, unassisted by
any mechanical devise. l have no doubt
you pity the poor wretches who were com
PEELED to drag out a miserable existence
under such a multitude of discouragements,
but assure you there is no occasion. The
world has grown vastly wiser since then,
but neither better nor happier, but other
wise. We had our vacations, our amuse-
ments. The woods were full of game, not
few little wretched quails, which half the
community 60 out to shoot these days, but
deer, bears, wolves, catamounts, with an
abundance of small game, while the streams
and lakes swarmed with fish, and the
marshes with saugers. This reminds me of
man i'm Bennington so peculiarly cOnsti-
tuted that If a SAUCER bit him it did him no
sort of harm, but resulted in the speedy
death of the snake. He worked Oh salary
for the township three or four years till the
saugers were all killed off.
But what was l going to write about?
Oh, yes; My Bear Story. / will begin back.
Late i'm the fall of 1851, just as night was
closing upon us, l received a most urgent
call to visit sick person. although l had
been resident of that neighberhood for five
years, l had never heard of the man or his
place of residence, SO thu messenger vol
unteered to act as guide. Three miles by
the load and then five by brldle-path
through an unbroken wilderness, and |
found myself at the door of a rude cabin.
The man who came for me, while hunting
had called at the shanty, and finding the
man very sick came for me- AS the man
with the lantern. with which had provided
him, passed on to his home, three or four
miles farther away, pushed the door open,
Git had no fastenings) and entered the hut,
which l judged to be IL or ii feet square.
Upon the ground, at one end. was a smOul-
dering fire, the smoke from which assembled
through a hole in the roof BY the side of
the fire, upon low bench, sat woman,
her face buried in her hands rocking herself
and moaning, as only persons can who aIe
in an extremity of grief. Directly in front
of the fire, in a rude cradle, slept an infant
perhaps year old. In the rear of the cabin,
upon wretched pallet, was the sick man.
threw some light barks, which fortunately
found, upon the fire, and by the cheerful
blaze approached the woman to get some
information I'm relation to the sick man, but
she seemed utterly daZed by the terrible
surroundings and was Ot competent to
utter single Ineligible sentence. l ap-
preached the pallet, upon which, writhing
in mortal agony, with blOod-shot eyes, face
unshaven and blOated. in rags and filth lay,
(for the sake of friends and relatives ] will
not name HIM my old time friend and
chum; the man with whom | would have
divided my last dollar, for whom 1 would
have fought to the death; who had been my
roommate, my class-mate, who had stood
in the same graduating row with me, only
a long way higher up; who had wealth,
friends, intellect, everything, and here he
lay and mOaned and shrieked, tossing his
poor shrunken arms wildly i'm the air, or
again, begging me, without however, any
sign of recognition, to drive away the
demons that were struggling to get posses
sion of him, or the serpents that were tight
ming around his vitals. 1t was pitiful, it
was awful; it was delerium tremens. l
had known years before that he was an
habitual wine drinker, with an occasional
wild debauch on stronger liquors; but he
laughed at my repeated warnings, insisting
that when the serious business of life began,
these youthful foibles would be forgotten.
So intensely was my mind occupied with
my efforts to sOOthe the dying man that
took no note of the lapse of time. The
patter of rain on the roof, the wild howlmg
of the tempest outside, the restlessness of
my horse, which had tied to tree, re-
called me to consciousness of passing events.
1t became more apparent each moment that
the horse, In his terror, would break away
There was but one thing to do l led him
into the shanty and tied him as far pos
sible from the woman and the child. But
as l turned again to my patient he had
risen from his bed and with every evidence
of widest rake on his face was trying to
make his way to the spot occupied by his
poor grief palsed wife. After desperate
struggle succeed in getting him again onto
his pallet.
1t was shortly after this, and while nv
whole strength and attention was demanded
by the wild frenzy of my patient, that, the
wind having blown the unfastened door
open, a large black bear entered the room.
1t was a curious assembly, a motley. incon-
gruous gathering as was ever seen inside
such a room. | confess l was slightly
frightened. OF course l. could have killed
the bear at sight. / always carried large
navy revolver in my hip pocket-do yet
but there were SO many other things that
might be hit after the bullet had gone
through the BEAR that my discretion pr-
vailed over my rage at the brute for thus
intrudng upon us. The bear went wadling
about the room in their peculiar fashion.
nosing first one thing and then another. At
one time he came very near me, again he
was looking into the face of the woman and
once | saw him peer curiously into the face
of the child.
Still | sat beside the doomed man. Slowly
but surely the life went out of him. Just at
the last there was glimmering of reason.
He recognized me. and with a faint smile
returned the pressure of my hand and my
poor erring friend was at rest pulled the
shred OF blanket decently as could over
his face.
had forgotten the bear; he was gone. |
threw a faggot on the fire, gave a look of
compassion to the widowed mother and
turned to inspect more closely the face of
the infant. Great Scott! The cradle was
empty. C.P.P.
A D.s. q IT,