moon was full, and the stars were out
by thousands: you could have read large print by the cold, clear light,
as my cousins and I stood at my uncle's door, fervently wishing it had
been any other evening. Suddenly, our ears caught the sound of bells and
laughing voices, and in a few minutes up drove the Lorenski sledge in
its gayest trappings, with Constanza, the Russian countess, and the
young cousins, all looking blithe and rosy in the frosty air, while
Emerich and Theodore sat in true hunter's trim, and Father Cassimer
himself in charge of the reins, with the well-covered pork beside him.
They had two noble horses of the best Tartar blood, unequalled in the
province, as we knew, for speed and strength; and Emerich's cheerful
voice first saluted us with: "Ho! friends, it is seven hours yet till
midnight: won't you come with us?--it is a shame to let Christmas in
without a wolf-skin!"

That was enough for us: we flew in for our equipments. My uncle was not
at first willing that we should go; but the merry company now at his
door, the unequivocal countenance which Father Cassimer gave to the
proceeding, and the high spirits of the young Russians, who were, as
usual, wild for the sport, made him think that, after all, there was no
harm in the young people taking an hour or two in the woods before mass,
which on Christmas-eve begins always at midnight. Our hunting-gear was
donned in a trice; and with my uncle's most trusty man, Metski, to
assist in driving, away we went at full speed to the forest.

Father Cassimer was an experienced general in expeditions of the kind;
he knew the turns of the woods where the wolves scented best; and when
we had got fairly among the tall oaks, down went his pork. For some time
it dragged on without a single wolf appearing, though the odor came
strong and savory through cords and straw.

"If I were a wolf myself, I would come for that," said old Metski. The
priest quickened his speed, vowing he would not say mass without a skin
that night; and we got deeper into the wilderness of oak and pine. Like
most of our Lithuanian forests, it had no underwood. There was ample
space for our sledge among the great trees, and the moonlight fell in a
flood of brightness upon their huge white trunks, and through the
frost-covered branches. We could see the long icicles gleaming like
pendants of diamond for miles through the wide woods, but never a wolf.
The priest began to look disappointed; Metski sy