The Laughing Bear, and Other Stories. Robert Bloomer Hare Bell

      A long time ago at Seoul, the capital of Korea (now under the control of Japan), lived a king and queen who had a little daughter called Chonwa.

      The little princess grew in the sunshine of her parents' love, until she reached the age of eight. Then it was announced that, according to the custom of her country, her betrothal was to be arranged by the state. The mother led her into the beautiful garden and tried to show the perplexed girl why the rules of the court required that a king's child should be married for the sake of the country.

      So fixed were their minds on this subject, that neither of them noticed a dark, fierce-looking man creeping after them. None but a very bold man would have dared come thus into the king's private grounds. He followed with fierce glances every movement of the innocent pair. When the queen and her child sat down on a bench to watch a turtledove drink at the fountain, the man crawled toward them with a long knife in his teeth. He was almost upon them, when the queen happened to see him. Before she could even cry for help, the ruffian stabbed her twice.

      Courageously, the little princess sprang upon the man and scratched his face. He drew back from the unexpected attack, then rushed at the defiant little maiden, seized her by the waist, and carried her off in his arms.

      Just as he reached the gate, he was stopped by an encounter that he little expected—he found himself face to face with an ugly, grinning bear.

      The man placed his frightened burden on the ground, then reached for his bloody knife, and sprang at the huge bear. The bear sat up, still grinning. When the man came near enough, she struck him such a blow on the head that he went sprawling to the ground, and the knife flew out of his hand.

      The man lay where he had fallen, with his ashen face turned toward the setting sun. Bruin waddled over to him and pushed him with her nose to see if he would move. He showed no sign of life. Then the bear turned and tried to pull the princess by the sleeve toward the palace. Chonwa was not at all afraid of her rescuer and followed her willingly.

      They had not gone far when they were met by the king's guards, who came rushing toward them in frantic haste. The child hesitated between them and her rescuer, but when the captain laid hold of her, the bear turned and trotted away.

      Chonwa told her father and his court of the attack and the rescue, but only the guard believed the bear part of the tale; and when, after a long hunt, no trace of bear or robber was found, the king dropped the whole affair.

      The queen mother had a long illness, from which her recovery was hastened by the sight of her darling daughter, whom she had given up as lost.

      The princess never forgot her shaggy deliverer, but looked daily for her return. Time passed rapidly at the court, and it did not seem long till four years had rolled away. By this time, according to the custom of her nation, Chonwa, though only twelve years old, was considered ready for marriage.

      She was taken into the inner palace and clothed like a woman. A hateful "chan-ot" or veil was put over her face so that boys could not see her. Her only playmate was a harsh old governess who scolded her all the time, so that poor Chonwa often wished herself dead.

      Among her former boy friends was a young prince, whom Chonwa considered her best playmate. One day she stole from the palace, unseen by her governess, and met this boy-prince whose name was Mousan. They were found out, and two days later the young prince was banished and Chonwa was betrothed to a sixty year old prince, whom she had never seen. Her protests were all in vain, for it was considered an honorable marriage arranged by the state for the benefit of the people of Korea. Imagine Chonwa's misery when she beheld her betrothed. His name was Hamkieng, which made one think of "dead pig." He looked like a pig, too, and snored loudly even in the daytime, when he was not being amused. When he walked he waddled like a very fat porker. Chonwa cried for days, but she could not stop the marriage arrangements, and at last the wedding day arrived.

      The palace was beautifully decorated, and the guests were all assembled. Just as the king gave the command for the ceremony to begin, a loud growl was heard coming from the entrance. The priest stopped his preparations and fled. No wonder, for at that instant came into the room the great bear, Chonwa's friend! The queen fainted, and the king in trying to help her stumbled headlong over her. Prince Hammie—so they called him at the court—drawing his sword, made an awkward thrust at the beast, who raised a great paw, and smote him on the head, rolling him over and over like a barrel. By this time the company had scattered and hid!

      The princess was delighted to see her old friend, and she gave Bruin a tight hug. The guests, venturing from their hiding-places, were more astonished than before. Still more were they amazed to see Chonwa bestride the grinning bear and ride out of the palace! Out into the garden she rode, past the soldiers, down the busy street and into a neighboring forest.

      The king and queen were wild with grief, and the unlucky Hammie, chagrined at his bride's escape, bit his long finger nails. A reward was offered for the head of the old bear, and the hand of the princess was promised to the young man who should bring Chonwa safely home.

      Meanwhile, as Chonwa dismounted in the forest, she became aware of a young man coming toward her. He was dressed in white and carried a black broad-brimmed hat. Chonwa at once recognized Mousan, the banished prince!

      "I cannot tell you," said the prince, "how thankful I am to find you; I have waited all these months wondering what had become of you!"

      Bruin gathered the two thankful children in her arms and, opening her mouth, began to talk.

      "My dear Chonwa," she began, "I have come to bring you to a land more beautiful than any you have ever imagined, where play is as work and work is as play. We shall proceed to the Eastern mountains and then trace the beautiful river Nak-tong-kang to the sea, finally to settle down in a wonderful home by ourselves."

      But her words of comfort were interrupted by the appearance of a funny-looking fat man. His eyebrows were so long that he had them braided, and they hung over his ears like spectacles. Between his thumb and finger he held a highly polished stone. He explained that he was Hu-Mok, the Stone Doctor, who could cure