little, and then striking into the forest, were
soon in its labyrinths. Our driver was the
starost's son, a man of about five-and-thirty, who
had established himself as coachman on all
my excursions. Two of Saunderson's wolf-hounds
and the count's Newfoundland dog, lay
at our feet, perfectly alive to the possibilities of
sport.

Sleigh-driving is the one grand unapproachable
unalloyed pleasure to be enjoyed in
Russia. There is nothing to compare with a
long furious sweep in a good Russian sleigh
over hard crisp clean snow, wrapped in good
furs. With a great bear-skin hanging over
the back of the sleigh, and its apron, another
bear-skin, covering your legs, with your feet
encased in fur goloshes, resting on a doubled-up
black Siberian curly sheepskin, with a fur
cap on your head as tall and straight and
round as a very large English hat without
the rim, with your hands buried four-inch
deep amongst the sable sleeves of your coat; as
you lie easily back, thus comforted, under a clear
frosty bright sky, the horses, in graceful
silver-mounted harness, tossing their heads, the bells
at their necks tinkling merrily, the driver in
high wolf-skin cap and sheepskin coat, over
which he has drawn a handsome blue caftan
trimmed below the arms with silver-plated round
buttons as large as little eggs, and with a large
parti-coloured sash bound round his waist—a
fellow all excitement, but coolly managing three
wild horses, who tear on at whirling speed,
dashing the crisp snow in showers from their
hoofs, sometimes for a moment or two half
blinding you with the finest cleanest and whitest
powder in the world,—with these appliances,
and as you see and feel them all, you know the
luxury of sleigh-driving. I am not speaking
of a drive through the streets of Petersburg,
but of a drive of thirty or forty miles over
untrodden virgin snow through the forest, when
the trees are clothed in a dense fantastic foliage
of hoar-frost festooned with millions of stalactites,
and when the pure bracing air as you rush
through it sends the blood tingling through
your veins.

Before we had quite left all evidences of
traffic we heard the sound of men shouting and
laughing at some distance. Determined to see
what was going on, we left the sleigh, and taking
our rifles, made towards the noise. Sounds travel
far in a wood through clear cold air, and we had
further to go than we expected before we found
several men, who in felling trees had unearthed
a bear. There he stood on his hind-legs, in front
of what had been his hibernating place—a large
hole under an oak which had been just pulled
down. He stood with his back against the trunk,
and his fore-feet beating the air, and the men
were amusing themselves with his antics. As he
seemed to want something to hug, they stepped
up close to him, and put a lump of wood
covered with mat between his arms. He closed
them with a growl, and gave it a hug, and tore
the mat to pieces. I was astonished only for a
moment—to see the men so close to him, teasing
him without fear for themselves. There was no
cause for astonishment; poor Bruin had not yet
come to his senses. He was quite blind, thin,
and gaunt, his hide hanging on him like a loose
garment, and his fur like that of a mangy dog.
In the beginning of winter he had prepared his
hole, and crept into it. There he had lain on
one side, sucking one paw. There he had
turned on his other side, and was fast
exhausting the other paw, when his dwelling was
broken open by an evil chance, and he was
forced to get up and collect his benumbed and
dormant faculties, among which sight seemed
slow to return. He had a dismal and repulsive
aspect, as he stood or advanced on his hind-legs
a little way from his support, and retreated to it
growling and angry. To prevent the men from
torturing the poor creature to death, we put a
bullet into the right place, and left the men and
the bear together. The bullet saved him from
a more cruel death: which is our only excuse
for having shot that poor blind sleepy bewildered
Bruin.

Again whirling over the snow, through the
wood, the stern and cold magnificence of the
scene passed all powers of description. It was
evident from the division of trees that we were
following some known track, though it was
sometimes so narrow and circuitous that we
were often in danger of collisions with the
trunks of old oaks and their branches. Now
and then we emerged from the trees into a wide
open, of perhaps one or two hundred acres, with
here and there a magnificent oak, covered with
hoary foliage, towering in solitary grandeur.
In summer, these opens present the appearance
of parks artificially laid out, surrounded
by dark forest on all sides. The driver
was never at a loss. "I know these trees,
baron. There is no danger with such angels
of horses. Noo! noo! Step out, my dears.
We shall soon get among the wolves. I think
I see their marks."

"Shall we try the pig, as a decoy?" I said to
Saunderson.

"By all means, let us have a shot at
something that is not blind and helpless. I
cannot get the old bear off my conscience, poor
wretch."

The pig was dragged from under the seat,
where he had lain very quiet, and, by dint of
pinching his tail, was made to perform a solo
of pig music with variations, which resounded
for miles through the stillness of the forest.
For some time we could discern no wolves, but
at length we caught sight of two, skulking
among the underwood, in a parallel line with
our path, but at a respectful distance.
Although we kept up the decoy music, they
were shy of approaching within shot. One
end of a long white cotton rope was then
attached to the mouth of the pig's bag, the
other end to the back of the sleigh, and as we
slowly turned a bend in the track the bag was
dropped behind. We slackened pace, and, as
the rope ran out, the pig became of course
stationary. When the rope was all run out, we