After a storm, which has stirred up the bottom of the sea, any one walking on the sands will find the whole beach covered with dark green seaweed, which the storm has sowed with sunny gleaming amber stones. The smooth and shining pieces sparkle like crystals of gold on the dull dark underground of seaweed ; and no newly-discovered diamonds in Brazilian mines can excite more joy in the finders than these gleaming fragments in the merry bathers of Couriand. The great harvest of amber falls, indeed, after this festive period — namely, in the autumn. It is oftenest found by the poor fishermen and peasants, of whom it is purchased at low prices by cunning Jews, who sell it again at a considerable profit. In these provinces, however, the amber-fishery is as free as the ehace, and every one has what he finds. In Prussia, the laws of the amber-fishery spoil this pleasant diversion for the bathers, just as the game-laws often deprive an amateur sportsman of the pleasure of shooting a hare.
Sea-bathing being so dear a diversion to every Courlander, the parting with the merry Baltic coast is a very melancholy parting, and the wish soon to return is, for the most part, generally and sincerely expressed. These wishes, and the natural feeling of thankfulness towards the health-giving sea, has led to the establishment of a custom intended to show the gratitude of the bathers by a symbolical ceremony. After the last bath, accordingly, all the bathers proceed to the sands, and throw into the waves either a few coins, or a ring, or a pearl, pronouncing at the same time the wish to spend next year four more happy weeks on the coast. The sea has always kept its word, and for many thousand years has always been at the appointed rendezvous at the proper time, but changeable mankind do not always keep their promises. By the next summer some have travelled into distant countries, forsaking their good Baltic, and many, though they have remained faithful to their country, have found repose within some narrow grave.
As I have already said, the sociahty of the Baltic provinces is so great,
that In a wealthy family every day Is a Suuday, a feast day, or a holiday ; yet, on extraordinary occasions, the merriment and festivity rise even higher than usual ; so after one of these extraordinary occasions, a short languor generally prevails. Such a period of languor and repose is that which immediately follows the bathing-season. The Courlanders have then to mourn the vanished revels, and to settle themselves again in the interior ; but the good Courlanders are too sociable to like mourning without company ; they soon begin to close in friendly communion again, and httle circles are formed everywhere, who sigh together over the recollection of the sea, and soon mutually resolve to chase melancholy by dancing, feasting, and jesting. The season for the chase, so anxiously looked for by the Courland gentlemen, soon follows, to which I shall devote the next chapter.
" Owz, la philosophie c'est qitelque chose, mais la danse c^estplus,^' said once a lady to a philosopher. Had a Livonian or Courlander been speaking In her place, he would have said the same, only substituting " la chasse" for " la danse y It has been settled in these provinces that the head of all philosophy, the most important study of the present day, now that there are no more heathens and barbarians to attack, is the chase, whether directed against wolf, fox, bear, badger, elk, lynx, deer, hare, otter, snipe, heron, swan, or heathcock.
With us there no longer exists any proper kind of hunting. Cultivation has invaded and hmited the domains of wild beasts ; and the chase Is fettered by various restraints. This man may shoot, that man may not. Here one may hunt, there not. In this manner the whole noble art is rendered matter of mechanical routine, and dull science banishes all poetry from the chase.
Civilization has exterminated many wild races. Of wolves and bears there is no trace left. Stags are veiy rare ; lynxes exist only in the proverb about lynx-eyes. The wild beasts that we have, are preserved and confined on the few wild spots which the agriculturist has left the hunter, and are more slaughtered than hunted. And against what tame terrors do our hunters draw forth with bold and spirited songs ? Hare's feet that scratch no one, deer's teeth that bite oidy the grass, and the howls of foxes that frighten no one.