mpy legs--a dog which an American has described as "looking as if
he was always coming out from under a bureau." Very cautiously here
and there the foresters uncovered a burrow, and a _dachshund_
disappeared. Then from below ground came the sounds of fighting. The
_dachshunde_ had found their prey. The foresters ran about, stooping
to locate the sound. When they discovered the spot a dozen of them at
once began to dig as fast as they could.

Presently a writhing, rolling, barking bunch of fur and flying sand
came into view, when a forester with a long forked stick caught the
animal just back of its head and flung it into a coarse sack, which
was then tied up and thrown aside, and the hunt went on. After we all
went home the foresters gathered up these bags and killed the poor
little animals somehow--mercifully, I hope.

The dinner, which came at two o'clock, was so much of a function, on
account of the number of guests in the house, that it impressed itself
upon my memory.

First in the salon there were small tables set, containing _hors
d'oeuvres_. There were large decanters containing _vodke_, a liquor
something like Chinese rice-brandy. There were smoked goose, smoked
bear, and salmon, white and black bread, all sorts of sausages,
anchovies and caviar, of course. After these had been tasted largely
by the guests who were not Americans, and who knew that a formidable
dinner yet had to be discussed, we were all seated at a table in the
grand dining-room.

There were a hundred of us, and the table held enough for twice that
many. We began with a hot soup made of fermented beet-juice. This we
found to be delicious, but I seemed to be eating transparent red ink
with parsley in it. This was followed by a cold soup made of sour
cream and cucumbers, with _ecrevisse_, a small and delicious lobster.
There was ice in this.

Cucumbers and sour cream! Let me see, wasn't it President Taylor who
died of eating cherries and milk?

Then came a salad of chicken and lettuce, and then huge roasts
garnished with exquisite French skill.

After the sweets came the fruit, such fruits as even our own
California cannot produce, with white raspberries of a size and taste
quite indescribable. When dinner is over comes a very pretty custom.
The hostess, whose seat is nearest the door, rises, and each guest
kisses her hand or her arm as he passes out, and thanks her in a
phrase for her hospitality. Sometimes it is only "Thank you,
princ