rful histories and hair-breadth escapes--of
horses and dogs ripped open, and men killed or gored; but that which put
a finishing-stroke to Adolphe's courage, was the entrance of a friend of
mine, who had himself been a sad sufferer in one of these adventures.
Wounded, but not mortally, the boar had charged him before he could
reload, tearing up with his tusk the inside of his thigh; and, as he lay
insensible on the ground, gnawing one of his calves off before any one
could come to his assistance. During the next two months death shook him
by the hand in vain, for he had fortunately an excellent constitution;
"And, though the proportions of his left leg," whispered I, "have been
restored by a slice out of a friendly cork-tree, he is, as you see,
quite recovered."

"True enough!" said the new arrival, who had overheard the concluding
remark, "and if you have any doubts, Sir, I will show you my leg;" but
Adolphe, thoroughly convinced, declined the offer, and retired to his
room for the night.

The dawn was yet gray, when the court-yard of the Chateau d'Erveau
presented a very animated appearance; horses, dogs, and beaters were
walking up and down, neighing, yelping, and conversing,--the huntsman
every now and then winding his horn, giving notice to the inmates that
all was ready. The morning was superb, and as the party filed out of the
yard, doffing their beavers to the ladies, who, screened behind their
window-curtains, dared not return their salute, Adolphe was a little
reassured. Long, however, before they reached their hunting-ground, his
chivalrous feelings had so far forsaken him, that he had serious
thoughts of returning, on the plea of indisposition.

"Why do you lag so far behind?" said I, riding up to him at this
juncture, "why your nose is quite white. Nay, don't blush; braver men
than you have felt far from comfortable the first time they went
boar-hunting. You are afraid. Come, don't deny it; but, never mind, I
will not quit you for a moment."

"With all my heart; for, though I cannot exactly say I am afraid, yet
that infernal cork-leg is continually dancing before my eyes."

"I have not the least doubt of it; and, by Terpsichore! what a pretty
thing it would be to see the handsome Gustave Adolphe de M---- dancing
polkas and redowas in the drawing-rooms of the Faubourg St. Germain with
a cork-leg or a gutta-percha calf! The very idea gives me the cramp in
every toe."

Conversing much in the same strain