My father has had the customary letters written to announce the marriage, and will send them by the chamberlains to the various parts of Poland. The most distinguished among our chamberlains, and an equerry richly equipped, will depart in two days to carry letters to the king, the princes his sons, the primate, and the principal senators. My father announces the marriage, and begs them to give it their benediction; if he does not exactly invite them, he gives them to understand that he would feel highly honored by their presence. Ah! if one of the princes were to come--the Duke of Courland, for example--what a lustre it would throw upon the wedding! But they will merely send their representatives, as is usual upon such occasions. The castle is in a state of constant activity; great preparations are making for the approaching festivities. The starost has displayed an unexampled generosity; he has made us all the most beautiful presents. He has given me a turquoise pin; Sophia has received a ruby cross; Mary, a Venetian chain, and even my parents have condescended to accept gifts from him. My father has a silver-gilt goblet, admirably chased; and my mother, a beautiful box made of mother-of-pearl mounted in gold. Even madame has not been forgotten, for she found a blonde mantle on her bed this morning; she praises the generosity of the Polish lords to the skies. But this is the only virtue she concedes to our nation, so that I cannot love madame; her injustice toward my countrymen repels me. We had yesterday a grand state supper; the orchestra played unceasingly, toasts were drunk in honor of the happy couple, and the dragoons fired numberless volleys of musketry; their captain gave them as their watchword for the day, 'Michael and Barbara.' Barbara begins to take courage; she only blushes now when she looks at her ring; she hides it as much as she can; but it is of no use, for every one sees it, and the brilliants sparkle like stars. This morning all the court went hunting, in accordance with the old custom, which renders this action of good omen to the wedded pair. Formerly before they set out, the betrothed was obliged to display her ankle to the hunters. God be praised that this custom no longer exists, for I am sure Barbara would have died of shame. But our little Matthias insisted upon the performance of this ceremony, saying that if it were omitted the chase would certainly be unfortunate. For once his prophecy failed; they killed a wild boar, two bucks, an elk, and many hares. The starost killed the wild boar with his own hand, and laid it at Barbara's feet.