e Seonee district, and only after some time learnt
the proper proportions of milk and water, and also that regularity
in feeding was necessary--two-thirds water to one of milk for the
first month; after that half and half.

The Sloth Bear carries her cubs on her back, as do the opossums, and
a singular little animal called the koala (_Phascolarctos
cinereus_)--and she seems to do this for some time, as Mr. Sanderson
writes he shot one which was carrying a cub as large as a sheep-dog.

In that most charming of all sporting books ever written, Campbell's
'Old Forest Ranger,' there is an amusingly-told bit with reference
to this habit of cub-carrying which I am sure my readers will forgive
me for extracting. Old Dr. Jock M'Phee had been knocked over by a
she-bear, and is relating his grievances to Charles:--

"Well, as I was saying, I was sitting at my pass, and thinking o'
my old sweethearts, and the like o' that, when a' at ance I heard
a terrible stramash among the bushes, and then a wild growl, just
at my very lug. Up I jumps wi' the fusee in my hand, and my heart
in my mouth, and out came a muckle brute o' a bear, wi' that wee towsie
tyke sitting on her back, as conciety as you please, and haudin' the
grip like grim death wi' his claws. The auld bear, as soon as she
seed me, she up wi' her birse, and shows her muckle white teeth, and
grins at me like a perfect cannibal; and the wee deevil he sets up
his birse too, and snaps his bit teeth, and tries to grin like the
mither o't, with a queer auld farrant look that amaist gart me laugh;
although, to tell the blessed truth, Maister Charles, I thought it
nae laughing sport. Well, there was naething else for it, so I lets
drive at them wi' the grit-shot, thinking to ding them baith at ance.
I killed the sma' ane dead enough; but the auld one, she lets a roar
that amaist deeved me, and at me she comes like a tiger. I was that
frighted, sir, I did na ken what to do; but in despair I just held
out the muzzle o' the fusee to fend her off, and I believe that saved
my life, for she gripped it atween her teeth, dang me o'er the braid
o' my back, and off she set, trailing me through the bushes like a
tether-stick; for some way or other I never let go the grip I had
o' the stock. I was that stupefied I hae nae recollection what
happened after this, till I found mysel' sticking in the middle o'
a brier-bush, wi' my breeks rived the way you see, and poor old 'Meg'
smashed in bits--