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we made was the frightful flash of her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest.
All the long, swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crest and shoulders, and dug my nails into her creases and my toes into her flank, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of being beaten. Then, in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at another device, and leaped the wide watertrough sidewise across, to and fro, till no breath was left in me.
The hazel boughs took me too hard in the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache of my back was like crimping a fish; till I longed to give it up, thoroughly beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses.
But there came a shrill whistle from up the homehill, where the people had hurried to watch us, and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently.
I had never dreamed of such delicate motion, fluent and graceful and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but as swift as the summer lightning. I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time was left to recover it; and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I tumbled off into the mixen.
R. D. BLACKMORE.
Men have done brave deeds,
And bards have sung them well:
I of good George Nidiver
In Californian mountains
A little Indian boy
Followed him everywhere, Eager to share the hunter's joy, The hunter's meal to share.
And when the bird or deer
Fell by the hunter's skill, The boy was always near
To help with right good-will.
One day as through the cleft
They see two grizzly bears,
With hunger fierce and fell, Rush at them unawares
Right down the narrow dell.
The boy turned round with screams,
The hunter raised his gun,
He knew one charge was all,And through the boy's pursuing foe He sent his only ball.
The other on George Nidiver
I say unarmed he stood:
Against those frightful paws The rifle butt, or club of wood, Could stand no more than straws.
George Nidiver stood still,
And looked him in the face: The wild beast stood amazed, Then came with slackening pace.
Still firm the hunter stood,
And gazed with wondering eye.
The hunter met his gaze,
Nor yet an inch gave way;
What thoughts were in his mind
But sure that rifle's aim,
Swift choice of generous part,
The depth of a brave heart.
THE MOCKING-BIRD AND THE MIRROR.1
One day at the country house Bob had been let out of his cage and allowed to fly about the room. He had cut many antics, to the amusement of the company, when presently we left him, to go down to dinner. What occurred afterward was very plainly told by circumstantial evidence when we returned.
1 From "Bob: The Story of Our Mocking-Bird." Copyright, 1899, by Mary Day Lanier; published by Charles Scribner's Sons.
As soon as he was alone, he had availed himself of his unusual freedom to go exploring about the room. In the course of his investigation he suddenly found himself confronted by-it is impossible to say what he considered it. If he had been reared in the woods, he would probably have regarded it as another mocking bird, for it was his own image in the looking-glass of a bureau.
But he had never seen any member of his race except the forlorn little unfledged specimen which he had fed at six weeks of age, and which bore no resemblance to this tall, gallant, bright-eyed figure in the mirror. He had thus no opportunity to generalize his kind; and he knew nothing whatever of his own. personal appearance except the partial hints he may have gained when he smoothed his feathers with his beak after his bath in the morning.
It may therefore very well be that he took this sudden apparition for some chimera1 or dire monster which had taken advantage of the family's temporary absence to enter the room, with evil purpose.
Bob immediately determined to defend the premises. He flew at the invader, literally beak and claw. But beak and claw taking no hold on the smooth glass, with each attack he slid struggling down to the foot of the mirror.
Now it so happened that a pincushion lay at this
1 ki me' rå.