ted basking in the
sun outside the door of her cottage. Her complexion was of the yellow
paleness of some old parchment, she was always laughing and
singing--always rocking in her arms a log of wood, a hank of hemp, or
bundle of fern--objects which to her poor crazy eyes represented her
child;--her child as it was in its tender years: she called it by his
name, she kissed, embraced and dandled it, rocked it on her knees; and
when she thought it should be tired, sang those lullabies which had
soothed the slumbers of him who was now no more. I have witnessed the
horrors of war, I have heard many a tragic story, but never has my heart
been more touched with feelings of profound grief than the day on which
I first met this poor creature--this widowed mother, then seventy years
of age--singing and walking in the forest, carrying and dandling in her
shrivelled arms a shawl rolled up; kissing and talking to the silent
bundle, smiling on it,--sitting at the foot of a tree, and opening that
bosom in which the springs of life had for years been dried, to nurse
and nourish once more what seemed to her still her baby boy.

The morning after the dreadful catastrophe of which I have just spoken,
the path in which this terrible tragedy took place was closed, and trees
were planted along its length, so that no person could in future pass
that way. But the Pere Seguin has often shown me the oak, at the foot of
which during that fearful night the young peasant suffered such agonies,
made such incredible efforts, and drew with such indomitable courage his
last breath. This tree is still called by the peasants, "The Widow's
Oak," or, "The Oak of the Wolves."

CHAPTER XX.

Shooting wolves in the summer--The most approved baits to attract
them--Fatal error--Hut-shooting--Silent joviality--The approach of
the wolves--The first volley--The retreat--The final slaughter--The
sportsman's reward--The farm-yard near St. Hibaut--The dead
colt--The onset--Scene in the morning--Horrible accident--The
gallant farmer--Death of the wolves, the dogs, and the peasant--The
wolf-skin drum--Anathema of the naturalists.

When the sportsman does not absolutely care about sleeping in his own
bed, and will not be denied the pleasure of shooting a wolf himself, a
drag is run similar to those we have already mentioned, but other parts
of the proceedings are conducted in a manner widely different. In the
first place, th