whether he should fight or run. The gun was fired, and the bear turned and ran, and in the gathering darkness escaped. Although wounded, he lived until the next winter, when he had a rough and tumble hugging match with William Simmons and was killed. Seven or more balls were found in various parts of his body, showing that he was a veteran and had passed through many a hot fight.

An instance of bear mother-love was witnessed by the Oldfield boys, who had set a trap baited with deer meat, at a hollow of a tree. In the morning the trap was gone, but had left a trail which the boys easily followed. After proceeding a few rods they heard a cry as of a child in trouble, and immediately in front of them, the face of a huge bear appeared above the brush and nettles.

One of

the boys took steady aim and fired, and the bear fell dead. A cub was

in the trap, which had caught on a root and held it there; and the mother, thinking her youngster was sick, had carefully gathered a pile of leaves about it.

One pioneer mother on her way to the house from the spring, saw what she supposed was a large dog, until he scrambled up a tree, when she made haste to get home as soon as possible. Peter Miller, but seventeen years of age, started to go from Sheffield to his father's home at Avon; when half way there he came across an old bear and two cubs. It was believed then that a bear could not

climb a tree, and when young Peter saw the mother coming for him, he made for a small, smooth elm, and went up as rapidly as he could. The bear followed him. He climed as far as he thought it prudent to go, and when she came near enough began to kick her in the head. She grappled his foot, lost her hold on the tree, and fell to the ground, lacerating the foot terribly. The feelings of young Miller may be imagined when she immediately started up again. When she came near enough he used the other foot with the same result, and again she went to the ground, only to make the ascent for the third time. As she again clutched the boy, he lost his hold, and both went tumbling down together. When they struck, the bear was somewhat frightened and backed off to take her bearings, a truce the boy improved by making a dash for home. The bear did not follow, and he reached Avon, hatless, shoeless, and his feet in a shocking condition. The neighbors went out in search of the bear, but failed to find her.

urged to the attack, and ran in front of the bear and attempted to seize it. But he soon found himself in a huge embrace, and his voice was heard no more forever. Stilson grasped his axe and went in to the rescue. The bear dropped the dog and made for the man, who in turn dropped his axe and started on a run. Away they went, around a large poplar tree, the frightened boy standing on some fallen timber and yelling, "Run, Uncle George! Run like a whitehead or he'll have you!" When Stilson was about out of breath and ready to drop, the hunter's dog came up and made a diversion by grabbing the bear by the leg, and before the fight had gone very far the hunter came upon the scene and ended it by a well directed shot.

Polly Reed, who was but eleven years of age, was sent out toward evening to look for the cows. She saw a big black fellow across the ravine. When he saw her he reared up on his hind-legs and growled, but made no effort to follow her as she tucked her little skirts about her and made a bee line for home. Mrs. Hugh Smith found a bear in her pig pen, and grasped a club and pounded him so vigorously over the head that he was glad to climb out and make for the wood. Josiah Dalby, on his way home from Youngstown, found a cub in his path, and determined to take it home. He had not gone far before it began to whimper, which brought the mother out of the brush

with month open and hair up. Josiah preferred losing his prize to a fight, but the cub refused to loosen the grip it had taken on its captor's arm. With a desperate effort, he broke its hold, and, to use his own words, "threw the little devil into the mother's face."

The

Then the fight commenced. man attempted to climb a tree, but when he would ascend a few feet the bear would pull him back with such energy that she tore the soles from his shoes and gashed his feet so that he was lame for the rest of his life. As luck would have it he picked up a long splinter, and as she again came at him, he sunk it deep in her nose. While she was working it out he managed to get to the top of the tree, where the bear did not attempt to follow him. He was faint from the loss of blood, but managed to make his cries heard at the nearest cabin, whose Occupants came to his rescue. More fortunate was "Uncle Josh" Danforth, of Farmington, who was up on a log chopping when a bear came toward him; he simply chopped so fast that the chips flew into Bruin's eyes and drove him away.

"Old" Wheeler and Ichabod Merritt one day tracked a bear to a large hollow white-wood stump, in the Gustavus swamp. The stump was too large and smooth for a man to climb, so they cut a tree and made it so fall as to lean against it. Merritt climbed up the inclined plane to the top, and pointed his rifle into the hollow and discharged it. Ere he could load again

the bear came rushing out and made for the hunter, who only eluded her clutches by climbing out on a frail limb of the tree he had cut. Meanwhile Wheeler, safe on the ground, grew so excited that he forgot to use his own gun, but jumped up and down and yelled "Oh dear! You'll be killed! You'll be killed!" Meanwhile another hunter, who had heard the noise, came rushing up and with one shot brought the bear to the ground. A hole was chopped in the stump and two fat cubs captured.

The children on their way home from Liberty school were compelled to pass through a piece of woods. One day a bear came out and stood near the path. A brave girl of thirteen, the eldes in the party, put the

little ones before her and hurried them toward home. The bear, fortunately, was engaged on a remnant of lately alive pork it had captured in the woods, and did not follow.

The black bear was sometimes inclined to be sociable. One Bacon owned a dog good for nothing in the world but his bark, which was earsplitting and never ceasing. Hearing the bark with a volume of sound a little stronger than usual, Bacon went into the woods where it was being poured forth, and saw the dog face to face with a long-legged, white-faced bear. The two animals were about a rod apart, and seemed to be enjoying each other's society. As soon as the bear saw the man, it ran off, the dog following. Bacon had no gun,

and when he started to the house for one, the dog turned about and followed him; and they had hardly reached home when the bear came trotting after-presumedly to see what had become of the dog. Two women of Geneva, who had had more experience with broomsticks than guns, heard a bear in their pig pen at night. They took an old musket, poured an immense charge of powder in it, rammed home a bullet and sallied forth, one carrying the gun and the other a torch. Taking a steady aim the gunbearer fired, and was kicked over into the weeds, while the bear marched off with a fat shoat under his arm. A couple of men in charge of a sugar camp in Geauga, found the syrup stolen from the kettle in which it had been left over night on three successive occasions. Suspecting the thief, they poured a liberal allowance of whiskey in the syrup, and awaited developments. When they awoke in the morning, there lay a bear near them, unconsciously drunk. He never came out of the stupor, a few blows of the axe putting an end to him. When Mrs. Margaret King was on her way home, on horseback, from a visit to a neighbor's, she saw a playful little black animal in the path, and dismounting, picked it up. It gave an outcry, and a huge bear rushed from the thicket. Mrs. King threw down the cub, and sprang into the saddle and dashed away in the very nick of time, while the mother bear took up her youngster by the

nape of the neck, and trotted away into the woods.

The Rev. Josiah Badger, the first missionary of the Western Reserve, went forth under contract to fight the devil, poor whiskey, gambling, and like evils of Ohio in pioneer days, but nothing was said in the agreement. about camping out in a tree-top all night to keep out of reach of the wild beasts. Yet the Rev. Josiah had several experiences of this sort that he was wont to relate in the later days. On one occasion he was urging his faithful horse through the woods of the Grand river bottoms, while the rain was pouring down in torrents, and a place of shelter was one of the uncertain possibilities of the future. There dimly crept into his knowledge after a time that some animal was on the trail, and he raised the voice that had recently warned the ungodly Painesvillians, and carried consolation to the elect of Mentor, and sent up a shout that might have frightened many of the smaller denizens of the forest. But it did not have that effect on the big bear that was following. On the contrary, it aroused all the desire for missionary within him, and he made a dash at

the Rev. Mr. Badger, with hair on end and eyes on fire. The only weapon the missionary had about him, was a large horseshoe, which had as fine a chance to bring him luck at this critical juncture, as even the most magical horseshoe could desire. He threw the shoe at the bear's nose, but missed him. Then he rode under a beech tree, tied his horse to a branch, deserted the saddle with the celerity of a cowboy, and went upward. He kept on for some forty feet, tied himself to the tree by a large bandanna, and awaited results. The bear meanwhile was nosing about the horse, as though getting ready for an attack. The wind came up, the rain fell in torrents, and the thunder rolled. The occasional flashes of lightning showed that the horse was still safe, with the bear on guard. And there the poor missionary clung all night long, cold, wet through, tired and sleepy; and there the bear waited, unwilling to take horse when he had gone on a hunt for man. But at daybreak he made off for home, and Mr. Badger worked his way down as well as he could, and rode for the nearest settlement with all the speed his horse could command.

SEELYE A. WILLSON.

MARVIN HUGHITT, President of the Chicago & Northwestern Railway Company, and beyond question one of the ablest railway managers in the United States, was born in New York State in 1837. As a boy, he received a fair education, and then took up the study of telegraphy, his first experience as an operator being obtained at Auburn, N. Y. While still a mere youth he came to Illinois, and in 1856, when he was but nineteen years of age, he was made Superintendent of Telegraph and Chief Train Dispatcher in the service of the St. Louis, Alton & Chicago, -now the Chicago & Alton-Railway Company, a position which he tained until 1862, and in which he had an opportunity to add materially to his reputation as a well informed and practical railroad man. The important and responsible duties of the position which he occupied, were discharged in a way which showed him to be possessed of marked executive ability, as well as of adaptability to the conduct of railroad affairs.

re

At the end of a six years term of service with the Chicago & Alton Railway Company, he was called into the service of the Illinois Central Railway Company as Superintendent of Tele

graph and Train Master. From this position he was advanced to Assistant General Superintendent, and then to Superintendent of the road, distinguishing himself by his efficient conduct of the affairs which came under his supervision and his valuable services to the corporation, in each of these official positions.

He remained with the Illinois Central ten years, and at the end of that time was tendered the position of Assistant General Manager of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad Company, which he accepted. In the fall of the same year-1872-he accepted the General Superintendency of the Pullman Palace Car Company, and was identified with the management of that corporation until he became connected with the Chicago & Northwestern Railway Company.

His first service with the last named company was in the capacity of general superintendent. In 1876 he was advanced from the position of superintendent to that of general manager, and since that time he has advanced by regular and successive steps to that of chief executive officer of one of the great railway systems of the country. He became a vice-president of the