



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


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VOL. I.--NO. 5. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, December 2, 1879. Copyright, 1879, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: FEEDING THE TWINS.

A QUEER PAIR OF HOUSEHOLD PETS.]

THE TWINS.


Young bears have always been great favorites as pets, being playful and
affectionate when kindly treated. They can be trained to perform all
kinds of amusing tricks; and their antics when playing together or with
children are very laughable. They have been taught to execute difficult
parts in theatrical displays; among other things, to ring bells, pretend
to fall dead when shot at, beat the drum, and go through the manual
exercise of the soldier with the musket.

But though playful and harmless when young, they can not be trusted when
their teeth and claws are full grown. Then their good nature can not be
counted on; and many instances have occurred in which they have repaid
friendly confidence with sudden treachery. It must be said in their
favor, however, that their wildness is often the result of bad treatment
or thoughtless teasing. There is a story in print of a planter in
Louisiana who once picked up a young cub that had either been abandoned
by its mother, or had run away from the parental den. He carried it home
and threw it down in the yard, where it was immediately adopted by the
little <DW64>s. It became a great favorite with them, sharing their
corn-bread, and taking part in all their sports. "Billy"--that was the
name given to him--thrived and grew large and stout, and learned to box
and wrestle with the boys so well that visitors to the plantation were
always entertained with these droll exhibitions.

But one day, in the spring, when he had been about a year in captivity,
Billy was detected in making free with the young cabbages in the garden.
A stout <DW64> man picked up a branch of rose-bush, and gave the marauder
a playful stroke. Filled with rage, Billy sprang upon the man, shook him
as if he had been a bundle of straw, and bit the poor fellow so severely
that he died. Billy was at once shot. A pet that could not control his
temper better than that was considered rather too dangerous to keep.

In a wild state, when in distress, young bears utter cries like those of
a child in trouble. During an overflow of the Mississippi the
inhabitants of a plantation were alarmed by the dreadful wailings, as
was supposed, of some children in a swamp. After a careful search two
little cubs were found in the hollow of an old tree, locked in each
other's arms. The mother bear had been drowned or shot, and these funny
little "babes in the woods" were crying with fright and hunger, and
appeared to welcome the protection of man with real joy.

Bears are very fond of whiskey and other kinds of strong drink, and when
intoxicated will act very much like a man in a similar condition.




[Begun in No. 1 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, NOV. 4.]

THE BRAVE SWISS BOY.

_IV.--A TERRIBLE FALL._


For a moment father and son stood silent on the brink of the crevasse,
looking after the chamois.

"We can't get across here, father," said Walter, in a whisper; "let us
try and find some other way."

"We can't find a better spot than this," replied his father, examining
his gun.

"But what's the use of shooting him? What's the good of a dead chamois
if we can't get him?"

"When he's once dead, boy, we'll soon find some means of getting at
him," was the answer. "A board laid over the crevasse will be an easy
way of recovering the venison."

"But we haven't got a board, father."

"That we'll see about. Just stand on one side, Watty."

The hunter cocked his gun, took aim for a moment, and was going to fire,
when he turned suddenly pale, and dropped his arm.

"What's the matter, father? Do you feel ill?" inquired Walter, with
anxiety.

"No," replied the huntsman; "but it seemed as if the ice was giving way
just as I was going to fire. But it can't be," he continued, stamping
his foot; "the ice is solid and firm enough."

"Let us go home, father," implored Walter. "I feel a presentiment that
something will happen. Come home now, and we can try for the buck
to-morrow."

But the old mountaineer had in the mean time become self-possessed
again, and again raised his gun to fire. Just as he pulled the trigger,
however, his foot slipped, and with an exclamation of horror, Walter saw
him carried rapidly toward the rift in the ice, and suddenly disappear.
With the recoil of the gun the hunter had lost his balance on the
slippery ice, and at the same moment that his shot