He then began to question me respecting the capabilities of my bull-terriers who bayed at him from their chain pegs, asking me if they would tackle the gardener’s bear. I suggested that the bear was a tame one; but his Royal Highness was not to be denied, and ordered my servants to loose the dogs, and the weeping gardener was told to produce his bear. This was a smallish, pale-green coloured animal about the size of a big St. Bernard dog, but heavier. Here Mr. P⸺, being interested on the appearance of the bear, rose. The prince laughed and said: “He will get up for a bear then, and not for a prince.” He now ordered the dogs to be loosed: they flew at the bear, who slapped at them and tried to claw them, but they, fixing themselves one to each ear, avoided his paws and kept clear of hugs. There they hung, and the bear sat on his hind-quarters looking most miserable. The prince now ordered my men to let loose a big and very savage watch-dog I had, of no particular breed—one of the big shepherd-dogs of the country. This dog went immediately for the bear, who was quite powerless, having the other two dogs still on his ears. The force of his rush threw the bear over, the dog seized him by the throat and was proceeding to worry him, when suddenly dogs and bear all rolled into a muddy watercourse. Clouds of mud covered the gay dress of the Prince-Governor, and the dogs were by my order taken off, or they would have killed the bear. The prince presented a piteous figure, green and black from head to foot, for he had been standing close to the struggling animals when they fell in. His two attendants tried to get some of the mud off, but it was no use; good-humouredly laughing at the accident, his Highness mounted his horse and rode off at a gallop, attended by the crowd of mounted followers that awaited him at the garden door outside. The dogs having been set at the bear was unfortunate, for having tasted the pleasure of bear-baiting, they barked and howled at the mere sight of Bruin. At night all the dogs were loose, but the bear was safe, for he lived in one of the high trees, where he was out of reach, having a chain attached to a rope some ten yards long. One night, however, he came down and the dogs were upon him in an instant; the noise of barking, shouting servants, with hurrying lights and sounds of a struggle, awoke me. I, thinking thieves were in the garden, rushed on the scene with my revolver, too late to save the bear, who had been severely mauled by the dogs, then five in number and all strong and savage. With difficulty they were separated, but they had broken one of the bear’s hind legs, and I was forced to shoot the poor animal in the morning when I found out the nature of his injuries. CHAPTER XXI. SHIRAZ WINE-MAKING.