IT WAS probably in 1831, there was a little snow, and my Father was gone from home, and when nearly dark, the two big dogs smelled something down about the back of the field, and they would bark and growl and whine, and my Mother tried to get them to go, but they was afraid to go. When Father came home my Mother told him how the dogs had acted, and as soon as it was light enough to see, in the morning, my Father went down there and came back, and said there had been a large bear went between the fence and the bank of the creek. He got two of his neighbors to go with him, and they followed his track about a mile and found where he had went into a patch of thick hazels, and had broke down a lot of the bushes with his teeth to lay on to keep him out of the snow; but he ran out before they got up close, and all the dogs after him, and every little while he would stop to fight the dogs, and when the men would come up, he would run again, but finally, he was so large and fat he tired out, and the men got up pretty close, but they were afraid to shoot for fear they would hit the dogs; but after awhile one of them got a pretty good chance and shot him through behind the shoulders, and when the blood began to run and he began to sink, all the dogs piled on him, and the men ran up and beat them off and cut his throat. They did not weigh him, but they thought he would weigh near three hundred pounds.