prevented her leaving her for a single moment. At the same time, and by the same means, inquiry was made of our worthy landlord if he could tell her," in case of the Echo's not returning in a day or so, to what port would she most likely be driven to seek shelter ?"

Poor, innocent, and affectionate girl!-the dread of an accident then had not occurred to her. Such faith, indeed, had she in the wisdom and experience of her father, that the idea of such a misfortune was the last thing to cross her mind. Was not the boat her dear brother's build? No expense had been spared in her fitting-out, and the best advice in all details concerning her had been sought and strictly followed. What then to her, occupied as she was in her sad duties, was a gale of wind? At the worst, perhaps a delay of a few days. Besides, since the weather had moderated, they might have renewed their attempts at fishing, and would probably return with a heavy catch. These and such like were the flattering views she took, or persuaded herself into the belief of, and consoled her more nervous and excitable companion with-the sharer of her watchings on her senseless mother. Matters, however, were assuming a much more serious aspect in the parlour of our little inn. Consultations were hourly held there, and each opinion or probability of the salvation of the two luggers from the fury of the elements canvassed in the most serious mood, and with forebodings of the gloomiest description, which they could no longer hide. Several had already begun to despair, and an oppresive grief had more or less taken possession of the countenances of all, so that this once happy spot was now turned into "the valley of the shadow of death." For my own part, I felt that presentiment of coming evil which is too often the truthful herald of its own advanced guard.

Another and another day passed; but, alas! brought with them no tidings of the Echo or Dreadnought.

Southampton.

(To be continued.)

A. H. B.

A

HUNT

IN

FONTAINEBLEAU.

BY DIANA.

EVELYN, CRAWFORD, AND LAVALETTE ON THE BORDERS OF

MARLY.

We were still in the little inn on the borders of the Forest of Marly. The wind blew hollowly and shrill, with fitful gusts; and we perceived that we were likely to be detained there for some days, as a heavy fall of snow had made the roads almost impassable, and the dark clouds and thick atmosphere boded a continuation of the same weather.

It was in vain that we tried to brave the elements and pierce into the forest. As the day advanced, the muttering thunder, heard at a distance, came nearer to us with deafening crash; forked lightning played about us; and the driving rain sent us back into the inn, nearly drowned, and but too glad to place ourselves round the huge wood fire, which our good-natured landlady piled up, as we thought, most extrava

gantly. And here-with cigars, capital cooking, not despicable wine, and conversation which ebbed and flowed with our various humourswe made it out very tolerably until night approached.

As it neared within an hour of midnight, however, silence crept over and we sat as if we were noting every unearthly shriek and cry of the night winds.

us,

This silence was interrupted by Crawford saying to me, as the kitchen clock struck the hour of eleven:

"Evelyn, it is useless to think of sleep while this storm rages. With what a terrific blast it sweeps along, and shakes the rafters as if it would split them in pieces! We must prevail upon Lavalette to tell us some of his adventures, and so while away the time; for we shall be much more comfortable here, round the blazing hearth, until the storm has somewhat abated, than we should be lying awake in the cold upper story, and fancying that the crazy tenement was coming down about our ears."

"You hear what Crawford says, Lavalette?" I exclaimed. “You must search that inexhaustible storehouse of yours-memory!"

"What do you take me for?" Lavalette replied, smiling and brightening up (for he had looked very much like one in a brown study). "You must fancy me an Eastern story-teller!"

"We take you to be the cleverest and the most obliging fellow in the world; and, no doubt, if you were born a Turk you would make your fortune as a narrator. But do give us something!"

And, as I paused for a reply, Crawford joined his entreaties to

mine.

"Well, what will you have, then, if I must try to while away the night? I will do my best to entertain you-that is if we are not crushed by the fall of some of the old trees, or rendered houseless by being blown into the forest, to be there, perhaps, devoured by wolves. Will you have my own personal experience of a hunt in the Forest of Fontainebleau ? or a hunt of Louis XVI., from the memoirs of "Your own personal experience, by all means, Lavalette," I said, interrupting him. "But first one word about the wolves; Do wolves

infest these forests ?"

"Not in any great numbers," Lavalette replied; "but in a severe winter they descend in packs from the mountains

'Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave!

Burning for blood! bony and gaunt and grim!'

in search of food. Then they scatter through the country, hiding themselves in the forests; and a whole province is sometimes kept in alarm for a month together by two or three of them. Their strength, eunning, and agility surpass description; and poison, pitfalls, and traps are too often tried in vain; while armed bands of men and large housedogs endeavour without success to surround the spots where they are supposed to lurk. They have a vehement appetite for animal foodparticularly for human flesh; and this makes them the fiercest of all savage beasts. The wolf enters the village in the night-time, undermines the thresholds of the doors within which sheep are housed, destroys them on the instant, satisfies his appetite, and then flies with a carcass into the woods. If however he steals amongst them before

the shepherd has gathered them into the fold, he invariably falls upon the shepherd in preference to his flock."

"Do you never hunt these ferocious beasts with dogs?" Crawford asked. "They certainly do in some countries."

"Yes, sometimes," Lavalette replied; "but it is not a favourite sport, though, probably you will say, a most useful one. You must have a good starter to put up a wolf, and every means must be used to encourage him in his pursuit, for all dogs have a natural antipathy to this animal. The repugnance is so great that a young dog shudders at the sight of him; and a large dog falls upon him at once with the bitterest animosity, as if he were his deadliest enemy. He is hunted with greyhounds and harriers; but the dogs are cold in their endeavours, and, when he is killed, testify no appetite to enjoy the victory, but leave him where he falls. That the cunning of the wolf equals his bloodthirstiness may be perceived from the various anecdotes given of the modes in which he manages to destroy animals greatly his superior in speed-many of which I have heard, though I cannot recall them at this moment.'

"Yes," replied Crawford, "I believe his cunning must be as great as that of the fox, for I remember in Captain Franklin's narrative of his journey to the shores of the Polar Sea is the following passage, if my memory serves me right: So much snow had fallen on the night of the 24th that the track we intended to follow was completely covered, and our march to-day was very fatiguing. We passed the remains of two red deer, lying at the bases of perpendicular cliffs, from the summits of which they had probably been forced by the wolves. These voracious animals, who are inferior in speed to the moose or red deer, are said frequently to have recourse to this expedient in places where extensive plains are bounded by precipitous cliffs. Whilst the deer are quietly grazing, the wolves assemble in great numbers, and, forming a crescent, creep slowly towards the herd, so as not to alarm them much at first; but when they perceive that they have fairly hemmed-in the unsuspecting creatures, and cut off their retreat across the plain, they move more quickly, and with hideous yells terrify their prey and urge them to flight by the only way open, which is towards the precipice, appearing to know that when the herd is at full speed, it is easily driven over the cliff, the rearmost urging on those that are before. The wolves then descend at their leisure and feast on the mangled carcases.' There is likewise an interesting anecdote given in the same work how they (the wolves) attempted to hem-in Dr. Richardson when he was keeping the first watch, seated on the summit of a hill, long after dusk, contemplating the river that washed the precipice under his feet: And now he was roused from his reverie by hearing an indistinct noise behind him; and now, looking round, he perceived nine white wolves through the gloaming, arranged in the form of a crescent (the mode generally adopted by a pack of wolves to prevent the escape of the object of their chase), moving towards him, apparently with the intention of driving him into the river. Fortunately, however, he had time to make his way down to the tents.""

6

"Nine white wolves approaching!" said Lavalette, with a shudder, "I should be sorry to see them."

"Well, we have discussed the wolves now, without any desire to chase them or meet with them," I said; "and so, Lavalette, we turn to you But what a blue-winged flash! And hark! no doubt that fierce commotion tells us that some of the ancients of the forest are torn from their roots-most likely struck by the lightning. You must give us pleasanter thoughts, my friend, than that of being blown into the forest. So pray begin.'

"Be it so," said Lavalette. "The hunt I allude to took place in the month of October, 1827. I was paying a visit in Paris at the time; and thus it came about that I was at it.

"Lavalette!' said the friend with whom I was staying, raising his eyes from the Gazette de France, which he had been studying while I was still employed in doing justice to a substantial breakfast; there will be a hunt at Fontainebleau in a day or two. It is announced in this paper that the hunting equipage (officers, dogs, &c.) has been transferred thither from Rambouillet, and that the King and his suite will follow to-morrow. What do you say to our going?"

"I replied to him, with great eagerness, that there was nothing in the world I should like better. My good old friend (a perfect gentleman of the old school) smiled at my impetuosity, and seemed pleased at having found means to gratify me.

"The King, with the dauphin and dauphiness, left Paris on the morrow for their palace at Fontainebleau; and my kind host and I took the route thither on the afternoon of the same day.

"It was late when we arrived at the château, where, my friend assured me, a hearty welcome would await us both. It opened upon us amidst thick woods-an ancient baronial residence, with huge gates in front, admitting us into a spacious court, and having hanging-gardens at the back.

"Scarcely was my name announced, when, to my surprise, the Viscount de V, who owned the château, after having greeted my companion cordially, advanced to receive me with open arms. My family were not unknown to him: he had fought side by side with my uncle,' he said as he led me into the salon, and introduced me to the viscountess.

"Early on the following morning we heard the neighing and stamping of horses in the courtyard, awaiting the time when we should be ready to mount. Our host assisted at the preparation of our hunting equipment.

"The rendezvous is at the Cross of the Grand Master,' he informed us, as he took out his watch. We are to meet there at eleven o'clock; it is now seven, and I am quite sure that the King is up. His Majesty is most punctual in his hour of rising, and I think I can see him looking at the thermometer which is placed in one of the windows of his sleeping-room. His bedstead is the magnificent gilded one which belonged to Bonaparte; his sleeping-room on the same floor with the flight of steps which lead down to the orangery. Into that orangery he descends every morning, and takes a turn in it. Charming as this enclosure is now, perhaps it was even more so when Henry the Fourth had it as an aviary. But the King does not linger there long; the daily papers are awaiting him on a small round acacia table in his own apartment. That table is the one on which Bonaparte signed, in 1814, his abdication. Less superstitious than his grandfather Louis

the Fourteenth, the King has no fear of having this memorial always before his eyes-a memorial with which the remembrance of so signal a reverse of fortune is indelibly connected. Yet I have heard that Charles has been more than once observed to fix his eyes thoughtfully on it as if pondering over the event to which it has been a silent witness.'

"Much more did our host say, during our morning repast, of the employments and habits of Charles the Tenth-the minutest particulars relating to royalty have a charm for many poeple, and we were not uninterested in his details. At length the hour arrived when he thought it was time that we should proceed to the Cross of the Grand Master, and at a signal from him our horses were brought to us ready saddled and bridled.

"A few paces before us Charles the Tenth issued from the park with his suite, and entered the forest. At the Cross of the Grand Master his Majesty was received with acclamation by the assemblage that waited for him. A stag of ten had been harboured at the HautMont that morning, and thither Charles determined to proceed

at once.

"This decision was hailed with murmurs of applause; and now, that everyone knew at what point the stag would be attacked, each took the route which suited him best. In ancient times, according to the customs of those days, when the King was ready to proceed on his way to attack the stag, the grand huntsman, or, in his absence the commandant of the hunt, presented to his Majesty a batoon about two feet long, to put aside any branches of trees which might impede his progress. This usage, like many others, has died away, and the ancient manner of attacking the stag has likewise changed.

"In 1726 the practice was to set the bloodhounds on the stag at once, and then the valets of these dogs withdrew them as soon as the animal was dislodged. These dogs-particularly if the weather was hot-were frequently of no use in the pursuit. Now the plan is to let loose on the stag some old, slow dogs, which would not be missed in the chase.

"Towards the north-east part of the forest, and in the middle of a bare spot of ground, from thirty to forty acres in extent, rose a steep hill, whose calcareous peak was almost bare, but whose sides, covered with bushes and underwood, afforded a thick covert for game. It was a sight worth beholding to watch a deer spring from amongst the precipitous acclivities and dense thickets of the Haut-Mont, for so was it named; and, to enjoy it, the Monarch with his suite and a crowd of eager spectators besides-ranged themselves at the foot of this hill. There, full of expectation, with eyes fixed upon the valets, who, with the bloodhounds, which they had uncoupled, laboured up the sides of the mount, they waited with breathless impatience for the appearance of the stag. "We shall soon see him!' whispered the Viscount. Be careful when he springs! Stand out of his path! You may be certain, if the crowd do not separate or scatter, the animal will make a way for himself through them, either with his agile limbs or his strong horns.'

"I hardly heard what the Viscount said, as he still continued his remarks. It was such choice sport to watch the hounds, half-buried in the tangled underwood that clothed the rocky sides of the Haut-Mont, going on the scent, labouring up here, labouring up there, smelling at