silver-mines of Siberia. Crack! thug! The smoke clears away. By
Jove! his imperial majesty has done it cleverly; hit the brute plumb
on the os frontis, or through the heart, it makes no difference which.
Down drops Bruin, kicking and tearing up the earth at a dreadful rate;
cheers rend the welkin; pots, pans, and kettles are banged. High above
all rises the stern voice of the autocrat, calling for another rifle,
which is immediately handed to him. Humanity requires that he should
at once put an end to the poor animal's sufferings, and he does it
with his accustomed skill.

Now the bear having kicked his last, an intrepid hunter charges up to
the spot on horseback, whirls around it two or three times, carefully
examines the body with an opera-glass, returns, and, approaching the
royal presence with uncovered head, delivers himself according to this
formula: "May it please your most gallant and imperial majesty, THE
BEAR IS DEAD!" The emperor sometimes responds, "Is he?" but usually
contents himself by waving his hand in an indifferent manner, puffing
his cigar, and calling for his horse. Sixteen grooms immediately rush
forward with his majesty's horse; and, being still young and vigorous,
he mounts without difficulty, unaided except by Master of Stirrups.
Next he draws an ivory-handled revolver--a present from Colt, of New
York--and, dashing fearlessly upon the bear, fires six shots into the
dead body; upon which he coolly dismounts, and pulling forth from the
breast of his hunting-coat an Arkansas bowie-knife--a present from the
poet Albert Pike, of Little Rock--plunges that dangerous weapon into
the bowels of the dead bear; then rising to his full height, with a
dark and stern countenance, he holds the blood-dripping blade high in
the air, so that all may see it, and utters one wild stentorian and
terrific shout, "Harasho! harasho!" signifying in English, "Good! very
well!" The cry is caught up by the princes and nobles, who, with
uncovered heads, now crowd around their gallant emperor, and waving
their hats, likewise shout "Harasho! harasho!"--"Good! very well!"
Then the five hundred peasants rush in with their tin pans, kettles,
and drums, and amid the most amazing din catch up the inspiring
strain, and deafen every ear with their wild shouts of "Harasho!
harasho!"--"Good! very well!" Upon which the emperor, rapidly
mounting, places a finger in each ear, and, still puffing his cigar,
rides triumphantly away.

The