Under a table, there lay a good long barrel on its side, and two very friendly cats had each got some kittens in it. They had made themselves little beds in the straw, one near the mouth of the barrel, the other farther in. So one young bear, (they were but a few weeks old, poor little animals!) in the course of his travels about the kitchen, poked his nose into this barrel, and out flew the old gray cat, in a great rage, or fright, I hardly know which, and began to spit most furiously at the cub, who ran away as fast as he could, into a distant corner, followed by puss. She did not choose to go too near such an odd-looking creature; but sat watching him, to prevent his leaving that corner. Meantime, the other cub, thinking, I suppose, that, "as the cat was away, the bear might play"--at least with the kittens, went boldly close to the barrel, when lo! out sprang the tortoise-shell cat from the farther end, and this master Bruin was not slower than his brother in scampering away, the cat following him also. No harm was done; none of them had any wish to fight, and the scene was so droll that the servants were in fits of laughter; while the Indians, who I must tell you are very grave, and even sad-looking people, and seldom seen to smile, for once laughed heartily too. I took pity upon the frightened cub, at whom the gray cat was still growling and spitting, and took him up my arms; for which he seemed so thankful, that I continued to stroke his shaggy coat, until one of the Indians, with a grin, offered to give him to me. I accepted him, making a present in return; and for some days I took delight in my bargain; for he was a most innocent little creature, and played merrily with a puppy dog: but those who understood the nature of a bear better than I did, persuaded me to give him up; because they had known a young lady who was killed by a tame bear in a sudden passion.