“Ah, brother, if you are really going to eat me, do it, I beg of you, in good style. Throw me first over this precipice, so that my feathers may be strewn here and there, and that all who see them may know that your cunning is greater than mine.” This idea pleased the fox, for he had not yet forgiven the crow for depriving him of the young magpies, so he carried the crow to the edge of the precipice and threw him over, intending to go round by a path he knew and pick him up at the bottom. But no sooner had the fox let the crow go than he soared up into the air, and hovering just out of teach of his enemy’s jaws, he cried with a laugh: “Ah, fox! you know well how to catch, but you cannot keep.” With his tail between his legs, the fox slunk into the forest. He did not know where to look for a dinner, as he guessed that the crow would have flown back before him, and put every one on their guard. The notion of going to bed supperless was very unpleasant to him, and he was wondering what in the world he should do, when he chanced to meet with his old friend the bear. This poor animal had just lost his wife, and was going to get some one to mourn over her, for he felt her loss greatly. He had hardly left his comfortable cave when he had come across the wolf, who inquired where he was going. “I am going to find a mourner,” answered the bear, and told his story. “Oh, let me mourn for you,” cried the wolf. “Do you understand how to howl?” said the bear. “Oh, certainly, godfather, certainly,” replied the wolf; but the bear said he should like to have a specimen of his howling, to make sure that he knew his business. So the wolf broke forth in his song of lament: “Hu, hu, hu, hum, hoh,” he shouted, and he made such a noise that the bear put up his paws to his ears, and begged him to stop. “You have no idea how it is done. Be off with you,” said he angrily. A little further down the road the hare was resting in a ditch, but when she saw the bear, she came out and spoke to him, and inquired why he looked so sad. The bear told her of the loss of his wife, and of his search after a mourner that could lament over her in the proper style. The hare instantly offered her services, but the bear took care to ask her to give him a proof of her talents, before he accepted them. “Pu, pu, pu, pum, poh,” piped the hare; but this time her voice was so small that the bear could hardly hear her. “That is not what I want,” he said, “I will bid you good morning.” It was after this that the fox came up, and he also was struck with the bear’s altered looks, and stopped. “What is the matter with you, godfather?” asked he, “and where are you going?” “I am going to find a mourner for my wife,” answered the bear. “Oh, do choose me,” cried the fox, and the bear looked at him thoughtfully. “Can you howl well?” he said.