t formed by the huts and cottages of the Tuscan
vine-dressers.

A little child is in his path--a sweet, blooming, ruddy, noble boy; with
violet-colored eyes and flaxen hair--disporting merrily at a short
distance from his parents, who are seated at the threshold of their
dwelling.

Suddenly a strange and ominous rush--an unknown trampling of rapid feet
falls upon their ears; then, with a savage cry, a monster sweeps past.

"My child! my child!" screams the affrighted mother; and simultaneously
the shrill cry of an infant in the sudden agony of death carries
desolation to the ear!

'Tis done--'twas but the work of a moment; the wolf has swept by, the
quick rustling of his feet is no longer heard in the village. But those
sounds are succeeded by awful wails and heart-rending lamentations: for
the child--the blooming, violet-eyed, flaxen-haired boy--the darling of
his poor but tender parents, is weltering in his blood!

On, on speeds the destroyer, urged by an infernal influence which
maddens the more intensely because its victim strives vainly to struggle
against it: on, on, over the beaten road--over the fallow field--over
the cottager's garden--over the grounds of the rich one's rural villa.

And now, to add to the horrors of the scene, a pack of dogs have started
in pursuit of the wolf--dashing--hurrying--pushing--pressing upon one
another in all the anxious ardor of the chase.

The silence and shade of the open country, in the mild starlight, seem
eloquently to proclaim the peace and happiness of a rural life; but now
that silence is broken by the mingled howling of the wolf, and the deep
baying of the hounds--and this shade is crossed and darkened by the
forms of the animals as they scour so fleetly--oh! with such whirlwind
speed along.

But that Wehr-Wolf bears a charmed life; for though the hounds overtake
him--fall upon him--and attack him with all the courage of their nature,
yet does he hurl them from him, toss them aside, spurn them away, and at
length free himself from their pursuit altogether!

And now the moon rises with unclouded splendor, like a maiden looking
from her lattice screened with purple curtains; and still the monster
hurries madly on with unrelaxing speed.

For hours has he pursued his way thus madly; and, on a sudden, as he
passes the outskirts of a sleeping town, the church-bell is struck by
the watcher's hand to proclaim midnight.

Over the town, over the neighboring fields--thr