Thus we lost our dear mother, together with a small sister and brother whom we could better spare. Considering the circumstances of our deprivation, by means of the foulest murder, of a parent's care and authority, and of our last promise to a beloved and dying mother, is it to be wondered at that I can never cherish any other feeling towards that arch-enemy of my family--_man_, than hatred, and that of the deepest? My brother Mishka, from whom I hear occasionally, in a manner utterly unsuspected by his "Keepers" in the Zoological Gardens at St. Petersburg, frequently does his best to persuade me to modify my opinion of and conduct towards mankind. He says the humans are not nearly so bad as one thinks, and that he has a very good time in his perpetual _berloga_ (from which the poor fellow cannot escape), and gets plenty of victuals of the best quality. He says he likes children the best--they are so very generous with their buns and cakes. Ha ha! I agree with him about the youngsters! I like the children best, too! they are so deliciously tender and flaky. I have enjoyed several, and sincerely hope I have not tasted my last. But I must proceed with my narrative. This then was to be the pivot upon which my future career was to turn: hatred of and animosity towards the human race. If I could at any time injure their persons or damage their property it should be done; I had vowed it; that very night as we three children lay huddled and trembling, poor orphans of a murdered mother, within our desolate _berloga_, we all vowed it. Man was henceforth our enemy. We were all reduced to great straits just at this time, for a living. Poor little creatures that we were, it puzzles me now, when I think of it, how we managed to pull through that dreadful period. The fact of the matter is, we were obliged to eat all sorts of things which we should otherwise have left alone; it was now April, and we contrived to live upon the young leaves and grass blades and shoots of various trees and bushes, together with--I blush to record it--field-mice, squirrels, an occasional hare, and sometimes a partridge or grey hen, when one could be found obligingly sitting on a nestful of eggs and dreaming of the joys of maternity. We ate the eggs also. So we dragged along until July came. But each day life became easier and more enjoyable, for the rye and oats soon began to grow tall in the fields surrounding the villages; the bees were up and about, and furnished us with the perfectly delicious results of their labours; and the woods gradually filled themselves with berries and luxuries of all sorts. When the oats were ripe we fared magnificently.