came to a spot where he found the cow lying on the ground half devoured. Feeling assured that the depredator was not far off, and would in time return to renew his feast, he erected a kind of stage between two trees, for the purpose of fully commanding the spot, and being also in some degree of safety from the bear. Here he took his station, with his gun in his hand, and a boy for a companion. In the course of a few hours, a large black bear made its appearance, and began to regale himself with the cow. The man fired, and the bear rolled over, as if killed. He descended from the stage to complete his victory if necessary, but was immediately attacked by the monster in a most furious manner. The boy ran off screaming, and soon brought a number of peasants with sticks to the rescue of their companion, but before they could force the bear to let the man go, he was quite dead. They bore off the body through the wood towards his home, and, as they went, the bear hung upon the party, and, wounded as he was, made repeated and furious efforts to get his victim once more into his power. When they reached the house, and deposited the body, the animal came up to the door, and made many attempts to force his way in, his object evidently being to revenge himself still further upon the man who had wounded him. In a little, growing faint with loss of blood, he withdrew with two or three fearful growls, lay down opposite the door, and died.

Of the other sports of Lithuania, our friend supplies the following note from his journal:- The fishing is excellent. In the river St Swinton, which runs close by, and joins the Niemen at Kovno, the salmon reach to about thirty pounds' weight; and I never ate better fish at Broughty-Ferry. (St Swinton is the river the Prince of Lithuania was baptised in when converted to Christianity). There is also a kind of sea-trout, which gives very good sport. One forenoon, I killed twenty-seven, some weighing nearly two pounds, all with a small black fly and a light fishing-rod. This kind of angling was never before heard of in this country. There is also in the loch, near the house,

excellent pike, perch, and bream, which give good sport. Some pike have been killed, weighing upwards of twenty pounds.'

A HISTORICAL BALL.

THE time has not yet fully arrived for making the last war the theme of grandfathers' tales or historical romances, but yet it is surprising with what a new zest we occasionally hear or read of incidents, and associations of persons to which that contest gave rise. Turned as the public mind of Britain now is towards the social improvements which befit a state of peace, a reminiscence of Bonaparte or Wellington startles the ear like the blare of the trumpet suddenly arising in the midst of a commercial street, to call attention to some state proclamation. We were forcibly struck with this fact some years ago, when, at an evening party, a gentleman of no more than middle age chanced to give an account of a certain ball at which he was present in Paris in the year 1815. The narrative, briefly and modestly as it was expressed, related to circumstances so uncominon, and so unlike anything which has since occurred, or is likely ever to occur again, that the whole party, after listening to it in almost breathless silence, declared it to be more like a chapter of romance than anything which a living man might be supposed to have passed through in his own proper person. In compliance with our request, the narrator has thrown his story into the following shape, for the benefit of a more numerous audience :-

On arriving in Paris about the end of July 1815, from an intensely interesting sojourn of some time in the region of the memorable contest of Waterloo, and full of curiosity to see the men who had achieved that great victory, by which the capital of France had fallen into their hands about a fortnight before my arrival, I was informed by my friend Sir John Malcolm, who had been

a companion in arms of the Duke of Wellington in India, that, in two days, His Grace was to give a splendid ball to the monarchs, princes, generals, and statesmen who were then, from so many countries of Europe, met in Paris; though, for obvious reasons, none of the royal family of France were expected to be present. My friend, of his own accord, promised to endeavour to obtain for me, late as it was, a ticket of admission. This prospect, enough to raise any one's hopes, had its full effect on mine, and my disappointment was great indeed when informed on the morning of the day itself, that I was too late; the Duke had peremptorily refused to issue one admission more-too many for even his spacious saloons having been given out already. There was nothing for it but resignation, and the whole day was passed by me in seeing sights, with an occasional sigh for the ball, not less sincere than that heaved on similar occasions by many a ticketless damsel, whose case is aggravated by having to assist in dressing a more fortunate sister for the treat which has been denied to herself. It was nine at night of a hot and most fatiguing day, my only remaining ambition then being to be lifted by some good angel, and put into bed without the labour of even undressing. I could not move a muscle without the greatest reluctance, but lay on a sofa, a capital subject for the experiment of the power of mind over body, which was the next moment to be made upon me.

A note arrived, which I had just strength to unseal and read. It said: Put on your silk stockings speedily, get a chapeau-bras, jump into a fiacre which waits for you at your hotel gate, and come off to the Place Vendome without asking a question!' This spoke too plainly to be misinterpreted. Fatigue fled as if by magical influence; I could have leaped over the house; and in an incredibly short time I was stockinged, hatted, and away, as directed by my good genius, and literally without having put a single interrogation to my conductor. Arriving at my excellent and most considerate friend's hotel, I was considerably cooled down by finding that he and a large

party, of which Sir Walter Scott was one, had departed. for the ball, leaving only a verbal message for me to follow, to make my way, and, if I should find any difficulty in gaining admission, to call him out, when he would set all to rights. My first feeling was, that the game was up. Make my way! call him out! with the halls, corridors, and staircases of the palace before my embarrassed imagination-crowded with guards and attendants speaking all the languages of Europe-and a splendid multitude in the saloons themselves, amidst which my friend appeared lost beyond recall the thing seemed impossible. I therefore gave orders to the driver of the fiacre to return to my hotel, when it occurred to me, that at the worst it was only failing. The object was well worth a bold stroke, and, if I should not succeed, I should at least, like Phaeton, or Napoleon himself on the late occasion, fail in an undertaking of no common kind. To the palace, then, of Marshal Junot, in the corner of the Place Louis XV., then the residence of the Duke of Wellington, I heroically drove.

In my doubtful state of mind, I desired that my fiacre might wait five minutes for the chance of a fare home, and entered the courtyard. A guard of honour from each of the allied powers, displayed by a blaze of torchlight, was the first of the striking scenes of the night. The mixture of troops and nations was as splendid as it was friendly. In approaching the door of entrance, an accidental circumstance 'set all to rights' without the intervention of Sir John Malcolm. An English carriage, with a coronet on its panel, drove up, and discharged a gentleman and two ladies: I stepped back to give them the lead, but followed so closely, without intending the effect, that I became, to the perceptions of all the persons we had to pass, a fourth component of my lord's party. His name alone was announced, and the two ladies and I passed halls and staircases with him, and entered, without question, into the saloon, where the Duke was receiving his illustrious guests, the first party within the door of which was my friend's.

'Well, you have made your way?'

"Yes I have; and done the most impudent thing I ever did in my life.'

'Never mind, you are really an invited guest, and I will by and by tell you how. In the meantime, take your place with us, and you will learn to know the guests by hearing them announced.'

We were fortunately early, and no very illustrious visitor had yet arrived. As we gazed with intense curiosity at the door, nobles, statesmen, generals, marshals, entered it in rapid succession. Schwartzenberg, Benningsen, Platof, Prince Wrede the hero of Hanau, Barclay de Tolly, Metternich, Castlereagh, Bulow, Humboldt, and many others of not less note, passed, announced in French. The company included, as might be expected, every British officer of distinction. Amidst a splendid display of scarlet, mingled with rich foreign uniforms, we readily distinguished a profusion of the uniform of Austria, which, being white, gives its wearers, to a British eye, the appearance of the musicians of a band. Diamonds blazed, and stars, crosses, and ribbons were seen in every direction. 'Son Altesse le Prince de Benevento' was declared, and for the first time I saw, close to me, the celebrated Talleyrand. The wily politician's appearance surprised us all. It did not indicate that superior talent and vigour which had politically survived repeated revolutions, and warned Napoleon himself of the commencement of the downward movement which hurried him to his fate. All seemed oldbeau-like about him-a powdered, old-fashioned gentleman, something younger, but much resembling Lord Ogleby in the play, and as unfit apparently to govern the diplomacy of Europe. But we did not allow his countenance to go unscrutinised, and we saw, or thought we saw, in its very calm and mildness, the practised tranquillity of the prince of diplomatists. Fouché soon followed, and we beheld the minister of police, the mover of the most tremendous engine of tyranny known to modern times. He looked the office well, and it was