not appear till late in the evening, when he
entered the room dressed in an antiquated blue coat with brass
buttons, finished off by a high stand-up white collar.

He staggered in, carrying a large plum cake about twice the size of
the one he had unfortunately sat down upon; which he placed upon the
coffee table, where the Hedgehog-mother was presiding over a large
collection of various cups, mugs, and saucers.

"I have only just come back from town, where I went to procure a cake
fit for this happy occasion," he whispered. "It does my heart good to
see this neighbourly gathering, and I have made up my mind to promise
you something in memory of the event. I will from this day, give up
for ever a habit which I know has been objectionable to you--the word
'Gypsies' shall never again be mentioned in the family."

UNCLE VOLODIA.

A STORY OF A RUSSIAN VILLAGE.

CHAPTER I.

On the one hill of the district, just outside the village of Viletna,
stood the great house belonging to Madame Olsheffsky.

All round it lay, what had once in the days gone by, been elaborate
gardens, but were now a mere tangle of brushwood, waving grass, and
wild flowers.

Beyond this, again, were fields of rye and hemp, bounded on one side
by the shining waters of the great Seloe Lake, dug by hundreds of
slaves in the time of Madame Olsheffsky's great-grandfather; and on
the other by the dim greenness of a pine forest, which stretched away
into the distance for mile after mile, until it seemed to melt into
the misty line of the horizon.

Between the lake and the gardens of the great house, lay Viletna, with
its rough log houses, sandy street, and great Church, crowned with a
cupola like a gaily-painted melon; where Elena, Boris, and Daria, the
three children of Madame Olsheffsky, drove every Sunday with their
mother in the old-fashioned, tumble-down carriage.

All the week the children looked forward to this expedition, for with
the exception of an occasional visit to Volodia Ivanovitch's shop in
the village, it was the only break in the quiet monotony of their
lives.

They were allowed to go to Volodia's, whenever they had money enough
to buy anything; and often spent the afternoon there listening to his
long tales, and examining the contents of the shop, which seemed to
supply all that any reasonable person could wish for--from a ball of
twine to a wedding dress.

Volodia himself, had been a servant at the great house many year