Year: 1873

A correspondent glves lively account of wolf hunting, which is one of the favorite sports in those parts of Russia where the animals have not disappeared before advancing civilization. At some abnormal hour between night and morn ing, you are aroused by vigorous shake and & hoarse admonition to " tumble up and look sharp about it, for there's no time to lose." You make nasty toilet, and, sallying forth, see in front of your hut, in the dim light of the coming dawn, huge, dark, shape less mass, which, as your eyes get used to the darkness, assumes the form of broad, heavy, three-horse sledge, with very high sides, not unlike an enormous washing tub, around which fit three or four spectral figures with lanterns-the fitful glare making their grim, bearded faces look grimmer and less human than ever. Guns, ammunition, haversacks, etc., are slowed away in the bottom of the conveyance :; and last, but not least, a young pig, protesting against his abduction with loudness and huency that would do honor to Hyde Park meeting.

 All being now ready, the hunters squeeze themselves into their places, the driver shakes his reins with wild whoop, and away we go in the darkness. Mile after mile of the frozen waste goes by like dream, till at length the spec tral shadows of the forests begin to gather round us, and the squeal of our unlucky pig (whose ears one of our party is vigorously pinching) begin to be answered by another sound which no one who has yet heard it will easily forget not the long, melancholy howl wherewith a supperless wolf may be heard bemoaning himself on the out skirt of our village any night in the week, but the quick, snarling cry of one who sees his food coming and wishes to hasten it. And behold, there they come at last, the gaunt, wiry, slouching fellows, and their busy tails, and flat, narrow heads, and yellow, thievish, murderous eyes. Crack the foremost of the pack rolls over on to his side, kicking convulsively ; but the rest gallop on unheeding.

 Crack crack and two more fall dead, plotting the snow with smear of dark crimson. Some of the boldest pursuers swarm up to the sledge, and attempt to leap over it's projecting sides, while we pound their heads with the butt ends of our pieces and chop their paws with hatchets, and slash them across the eyes with hunting knives, the two hind- most of our party meanwhile blazing away over our shoulders as fast as they can load. And so for time the run ming fight goes fercely on, making altogether very striking tableau.

 But the pace is too stiff to last, as our leader remarks with a knowing grin. A run at full speed through the deep snow tries even full-grown wolf too severely to be continued beyond Q certain time, and in the face of stont resistance the beasts inherent cowardice is sure to come to the surface sooner or later

 Already three or four gaunt, shaggy veterans who have probably had a good supper over night, begin to hang back as if doubting the wisdom of risking their lives for a, a,hypothetical breakfast. The speed of the rest slackened by degrees, and at length the whole pack drove off as if by tacit agreement, leav- ing us to pursue our way unmolested. As we emerge again upon the open plain, across which the beams of the rising sun are just beginning to fall we see the last of our grim followers sinking like belated specter into the gloomy shadows of the forest which we have quilted.