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been poor in many countries?' asked the gentleman lightly.

held on the crooked stick over his shoulder. 'No,' 'It's fairish,' said the traveller, 'what there is he said again as he drew nearer; 'I can't afford of it. But I'll say this about your country, to have the weight of a fusee on my mind for mister-it's the wust country in the hull globe the next three hours; I should have it cryin' to be poor in.' out at me every step, an' I should be fightin' 'Have you not to smoke all the way. I've got to keep that pipe for supper. It's all the supper I shall have, an' that's a fact.' Drawing near the stranger, he flung him a 'Good afternoon,' which sounded discourteous and aggressive.

'Good afternoon,' said the stranger in a round cheery voice. "Going on to Brierham?'

'If that's the next town on this road,' said the lame traveller, 'I'm goin' there.'

'Yes,' said the young Englishman, rising and walking into the dusty road; 'it's the next

town.'

'Can you tell me how fur 'tis?' asked the traveller.

If

'About nine miles,' returned the other. you are willing to earn a few shillings, I will ask you to take a note for me.'

'I guess,' responded the lame traveller, 'I'm game to do a good deal for half a dollar.'

'Hard-up?" asked the young man carelessly. It was not insolently meant; but the other fired at it. He cooled again, or restrained himself, and answered: 'I am willin' to sell any service I can render to anybody who can pay

me,'

"Wait a minute, then,' said the stranger; and drawing a note-book from his breast-pocket, he wrote a few lines upon one of its pages, pencilling the letters with apparently minute care. Then tearing out the leaf, he folded it, and wrote an address upon it. 'Ask for Mr Valentine Strange at the Manor House. Anybody will direct you. And this will pay you for your trouble.' He drew out a purse as he spoke, and made a feint of being disappointed as he looked into it. 'I've nothing but gold,' he said. 'Well, there you are. You don't earn half a sovereign so easily every day, I suppose?' The traveller took the coin, and answered simply: If you'll say how much of this I am to keep, I'll hand over the balance at the other

end.'

'Oh,' said the other carelessly, 'keep the lot.' Wal,' said the traveller, pocketing the coin with unchanged visage, I s'pose you can afford it. It's the first wind o' good fortune as has blowed my way for many's a day, an' that's a fact. I can't give you a permanent address to write to just at present; but if ever you happen to be in want of a good turn, you've on'y got to find me, an' I'll spend my last dollar to serve you.'

"That's very good of you,' said the young Englishman, with a twinkle in his eyes. 'You're an American, I think?'

'Yes,' said the traveller, drawling on the word; and added 'Sir,' as though that were an afterthought not of respect, but of added affirmation.

'A few,' said the traveller grimly. It might be-I don't know as it will be-but it might be satisfactory to you to know————

'You'll deliver the note, won't you?' said the Englishman, half turning away.

"Wait a minute, mister. It might be satisfactory to you to know that you're the man that's turned my fortune. You might like to know it, if you hear o' me again. An' if ever you get in a real corner, you might do worse than ask Providence to furnish a mo-ment'ry interview with Hiram Search. That's me. I ain't a lot

to look at; but if ever you're cornered, you ask to see me.'

'You are really very good,' said the Englishman with a satire too grave for the other's comprehension.-You won't forget the note, will you? Good afternoon.'

They parted, and went their separate ways; the Englishman sauntering blithely with rod and well-filled creel; the American limping stolidly under a burden which, pitifully light as it was, seemed almost too heavy for him. A score of times as he went, Hiram Search drew out the half-sovereign from his pocket, and having gazed at it, returned it. A hundred times he felt carefully with thumb and finger, to make sure that it had not been spirited away.

'I'll make a stroke with you, my beauty,' said Hiram, standing still to contemplate the coin; after which he put the half-sovereign back into his pocket, and went on, with one gaunt leg limping and one gaunt arm jerking until again the desire to realise the possession of good fortune came upon him. Then the coin came out once more, and Hiram stood still to admire it. like the fairy's tent Uncle Josh used to read to us about out of Arabian Nights. You kin pack it in a nutshell, an' it'll spread into board an' lodgin' over a hunderd an' fifty mile. Money's a great idea. Saves kerryin' about a house along with you.

'It's

It's plaster for a sore foot, an' food to your empty stomach, an' comfort all over. I could fight a wagin-load o' such fellers as I was an hour ago. When I think o' that poor creetur settin' down to his last hunk o' bread a mile or tew back, I feel like a manumitted nigger lookin' at a mean white, an' longin' to kick him out o' pure contempt.'

With this jubilant statement, Hiram put the coin away finally, and jerked along until, bent nearly double with fatigue and pain, he reached the town, and inquired for the Manor House. It was a mile beyond the town, said the man he questioned. Hiram groaned in spirit; but he buckled loyally to his task, and went on. Evening was merging slowly into night; but a street lamp shed its rays upon a stone column beside a gateway, and on the column he read in graven letters, 'The Manor House.' He passed through the gateway into darkness, and walked painfully along a gravelled drive. see how lonely an' re-tired the big folks live "You don't seem to be favourably impressed in this small island,' said Hiram contempla

"There are not many Americans who think it worth while to try their fortunes in the old country.'

No,' said the lame traveller with great dryness. "They air a sensible people, as a rule.' The other laughed.

with England?'

'To

tively, 'you might think as hull prairies could

be had for askin'.' The drive was nearly a quarter of a mile in length; but the lame traveller went pluckily along it, and at last halted before a grim-looking old house of dark stone. There was not a light visible; and Hiram searched for the bell-handle in some misgiving lest the place should prove empty. The peal he rang sounded solitary and funereal, but it brought an immediate answer. The footman looked down on Hiram Search and his bundle with one glance of swift disdain, and closed the door in his face. Hiram took the bell-handle in his lean fingers and pulled as though he were sounding an alarm of fire.

The footman returned indignant. 'Wotter yer

a-makin' that row for?' he demanded.

It sounded like a foreign tongue to the American. Hiram looked, and beheld the scoff and scorn of his own people-a flunkey. He had never before seen one so near at hand. The footman was a gorgeous creature, crimson plush and silk stocking as to his lower man, sky-blue and white powdered in his higher parts. He planted a trim shoe, with a bulbous ankle and a slim calf above it, on the doorstep, and surveyed the poor traveller with an ineffable lordly disdain.

"When you re-quire to know what a man wants,' said Hiram gravely, 'it's a roundabout way to shut the door on him. You should find out first, an' shut the door after.'

'I can't stend 'eah all night,' returned the footman with such an assumption of the fine-gentleman accent as he could compass. Wottah yah

want?'

Young man,' said Hiram severely, 'your clothes air tew many for you. You are not Lord-Justice an' Chief Gold-stick in Waitin'-yet.' Wotter yer want?' cried the footman, angrily relapsing into the tone of his native Hammersmith.

'I dew not want a po-lite male help,' returned Hiram with aggravating slowness of nasal delivery; 'an' when I dew-if ever I dew-this is not the store I shall apply at.'-The footman gazed into the darkness over Hiram's head, and stood there as if impervious to the sharpest shaft of satire. "Take that in to your master, you-you gilded menial!' quoth the lame traveller, as he produced

the note.

'Hany hanswer?' asked the gilded menial with sublime contempt. He hoped inwardly that this queer person might be a begging letter-writer, and that it might be his own happy lot to see him off the premises.

'Ask your master, you po-maytum'd slave!' returned the messenger. Hiram's republican gorge arose at the mere notion of a flunkey. He knew that there was no great probability of an answer being intrusted to his keeping; but it was something for the free citizen of an enlightened republic to triumph over this remnant of the enslaved ages in a darkened monarchical realm, even so far as to make him come to the door again.

'Wait there,' said the footman in his lordliest tones. He made as if to close the door; but the lame traveller thrust in his bundle.

'Shut that door again afore you've done my arrand, you poor clothes-hoss,' said Hiram, 'an' I'll ring the bell off the handle.'

'Hoskins,' said a voice from the hall, 'what's the matter there?'

'Pusson with a note, sir,' said the footman, with a sudden change of tone.

He had dis

Hiram looked round the figure of the footman, and saw standing in the hall a gentleman who carried a billiard cue in his hand. carded coat and waistcoat, and stood in a spotless white shirt, with one brilliant stud sparkling in the breast of it. Close-cut, well-groomed hair, with a reddish tinge in it; eyebrows and moustache a shade darker; forehead high and smooth; outline of the face an almost perfect oval. Eyes large, dark-gray, and luminous. Nose, mouth, and chin a trifle womanish, but finely modelled. These details the lame traveller's hawk-like eyes took in at a single glance.

'Gentleman,' said Hiram to himself. 'British breed. Strength, delicacy, an' stayin' power.' These criticisms related to physique only. Hiram made no pretence to an ability to read character in that off-hand fashion; but he was an intense and therefore a ready admirer of British physical development.

'Pusson with a note, sir,' said the footman. 'For whom?' asked the gentleman.

'Valentine Strange, Es-quire,' said Hiram from the darkness.

'Come in,' said the gentleman; and Hiram entered, limping and jerking in his gait, dusty and worn out with travel.-Where is the note? Who sends it?'

'Your po-lite menial has the note,' slinging his bundle to his shoulder again.

The footman had hastily seized a salver and placed the little missive upon it.

The gentleman took the note, opened it, surveying Hiram Search the while, then read it a little slowly and with a puzzled look. Having read it, he glanced at Hiram with an inquiring smile, glanced through the note again, and looked once more at Hiram. The note was in English, but written in Greek characters, and ran thus:

DEAR VAL-I have nothing to say; but I wanted to give the queer fish who carries this something to do to excuse charity. Let me know if you receive it.-Yours,

GERARD LUMBY.

'Come this way,' said Valentine Strange; and Hiram, limping and jerking gauntly, followed into a billiard-room. There sat a diminutive man with a bald head, smoking a cigar, which looked too large for him. The diminutive man looked up and glanced from one to the other. Hiram, with his bundle hung on its stick over his shoulder, returned his regard. The diminutive man had a merry face, which looked at once old and young. Either he was not yet old enough to have grown a beard or was clean shaven-a matter not easily decided at a cursory glance. His head shone like a billiard ball, and below the baldness lay the slightest ring of light hair, which he smoothed with his right hand as he surveyed Hiram, and then looked inquiringly at Strange.

Where did you get this note?' asked the master of the house.

'Somewheer 'bout five hunderd mile back, countin' by a lame man's measure,' responded Hiram. 'You might call it ten.'

'When did you get it?'

'This afternoon,' Hiram answered, 'four hours ago,'

'You look tired,' said his interlocutor. 'Appearances,' returned Hiram, 'air not always deceptive.' His long face was pallid with fatigue and hunger. He could scarcely draw himself upright to assert his manhood. Where are you going?' 'London,' he answered briefly.

The flunkey smiled, thinking his own wounded honour avenged.

'I was allays inclined to wonder, up till now, how it come about that a man an' à Britisher could bear to have sech a creetur' as a flunkey foolin' round at all. But I guess there's a spice of the flunkey in the Britisher himself, when all's told, an' mebbe that's the reason.'

Hoskins slammed the door upon his heels and

'Were you paid for bringing this note?' Strange retired with dignity. Valentine Strange took up asked.

'I was so,' returned the messenger. 'What are you? Have you a trade?' 'Compositor, Clerk, Auctioneer, Smith, Builder, Cabinet-maker. I ain't partickler.'

'It seems not. You're an American, of

course?'

'I am so,' said Hiram.

'Well,' said Strange, regarding him with a comic seriousness, 'this is a very important document indeed. Had it been intrusted to careless hands, I dare scarcely guess what terrible consequences might have come about. You have proved a trusty messenger, and you deserve to be rewarded. There's an extra half-crown for you.'

Hiram solemnly pouched the coin, and spoke in turn. 'Look here, mister. If you don't mind, I want to ask a question. Who wrote that

note ??

'Why do you want to know?' asked Strange. 'Wal,' said Hiram, shifting his bundle and lifting his lame foot to ease it, 'so fur as I know, I ain't superstitious, but I dew believe in luck. The man that wrote that note brought the first streak of luck I've had sence I landed in this country. Now, you've widened the streak-not much; but you've widened it, an' I'm thenkful for it. From this out, I'm bound to prosper. Things like this don't happen for nothin', I guess. Now, I want to know the name o' the man that did me this good turn. If it's all the same to you, mister, I should like to know

it.'

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Gerard Lumby,' he said quietly to himself, and repeated the name once or twice-Gerard Lumby. Thank you, mister. I shan't forget.'

'Ah!' said Strange, still smiling, 'you read Greek, do you? Did you master the contents of this important state document by the way?'

'There's your coin, Colonel,' said Hiram, throwing the half-crown on to the green cloth of the table. His sallow features flushed and his keen eyes glittered with anger. He drew himself to his full height, and wheeling round, he walked from the room without a limp. Here, you flunkey!' he called out in the hall, let me out o' this, d'ye hear?'

The majestic Hoskins strolled slowly to the door and opened it.

You an' your master,' said the indignant Hiram, pausing in the doorway, 'air a pair.'

the coin from the billiard-cloth, and threw it away at angry random. It passed through the doorway of the room, struck a door opposite, and rolled with a clear silver tinkle down the mosaic floor of the hall. Strange laughed constrainedly.

'I think,' said the bald-headed man, removing his cigar to make way for the observation-'Ï think the Yankee scored.'

REMINISCENCES OF SOME SEVERE WINTERS.

THOUGH last winter was a remarkable one, and one of the most austere, in our temperate latitude, within the experience of the present generation, it is far from being unprecedented, even during the present century. Several times during the last eighty or ninety years, we have been snowed up and be-frozen to an extent quite equal to, or even exceeding in severity, the winter of 1880-81, as some of the following reminiscences will show.

In 1837, as some of our readers may perhaps remember, there was an unusually heavy fall of snow over the whole of the United Kingdom, but the effects of which appear to have been most keenly felt in England. In former days, a snowblock was perhaps less inconvenient than at the present time, inasmuch as the travelling public was much more limited; but, on the other hand, those who did venture a journey were considerably more exposed to privations than travellers nowadays. In the early part of the year above named, the mail-coach system was completely deranged; and communication between different parts of the country was for a time at a standstill. About the middle of January, in the midland counties of England, and particularly on the borders of Northampton and Warwick, the snow lay at a great depth. In some parts, the drifts exceeded twenty feet in height; and tracks of roads, or traces of coaches or travellers, were not discernible. The Cambridge coach on its way to the Metropolis on Thursday morning the 20th of January, stuck fast in a hollow part of the road, and remained in that situation, passengers, mails, and all, with the snow drifting overhead, until the following day, when it was released by the aid of fourteen horses. Nor is this a solitary instance. Coaches were, in nearly all parts of the south country, overtaken in a similar manner, and in many cases abandoned in the wreaths. At St Albans, where several coaches were completely ingulfed, passengers were under the necessity of fighting their way on foot to the nearest shelter; those of the more stalwart sex carrying the ladies.

A distinguishing feature of the storm of 1837 was the prevalence of a virulent influenza, which raged epidemically in nearly all parts of England

and Scotland. Whole families were attacked; and though the malady was not looked upon as being attended with great danger, not a few cases ended fatally. In London, the conduct of business was impeded by a great number of persons being incapacitated for their every-day occupations; and not only so, but its immediate effects on trade were considerable. Butchers, bakers, and provision merchants, in general complained loudly of a wholesale falling away in customers' appetites. Medical practitioners and apothecaries were, of course, proportionally busy; while hosiers were at their wits' end to meet the demand for flannels and mufflers. Nor did the epidemic confine its ravages to this country; it extended to the continent. In Berlin, forty thousand persons were said to be affected with it; and in France, where the doctors termed it La Grippe, its consequences were even more serious than in England.

The north of England and a considerable portion of Scotland were visited during March 1827 by a violent snow-storm. The area over which it extended was covered to a great depth, and the face of the earth, in some of the flat country districts, seemed like a trackless waste. Some hamlets were likened. to rabbit-warrens, as the houses were only discernible by a hole excavated in front of the door. The town of Lanark was for a whole week completely cut off from the outside world, and the inhabitants to a considerable extent from each other. During that time, not a vehicle of any description entered or left the town; while the rare appearance of a fatigued pedestrian from the country only made the effect more dismal. On Sunday the 4th of March, no church door was opened in the burgh.

Mail communication was, as a matter of course, nearly paralysed; yet a vigorous Post-office fought against the elements with indefatigable purpose in the exercise of its great trust. Mail-guards were the heroes of the hour, many of them deservedly so. On a coach becoming imbedded in the snow, it remained for the guard to hurry forward the mail-bags as best he could, which he generally did by floundering forward with them on horseback; or he might, if he could, as was done in some cases, drag them along the surface of the snow. If all means of transit failed, it was his duty to remain with and protect his charge-by no means an unnecessary task in days when the footpad was not an unknown personage. Purves, the guard of the Edinburgh and Dumfries mail, the Royal Bruce,' deserves honourable mention. This coach, which set out from Edinburgh accompanied by a chaise, both with full complements of passengers, experienced the dreadful storm, of Saturday the 3d of March. At Devine-glen, in Nithsdale, both vehicles were brought to a stand-still by a great wreath, said to be twenty feet deep, with no possibility of either advance or retreat, and the snow drifting with blinding fury. Purves thereupon, at no small risk, carried nearly all the passengers through the snow to a smithy, which fortunately was only three hundred yards distant. Having accomplished this, his next task was to unyoke and save the horses, which he succeeded in doing, with the assistance of a considerable number of men, after three hours of strenuous exertion. Besides the mails, there was a goodly number of valuable packages in the coach; and after

having seen to the safety of all lives, Purves determined, notwithstanding the entreaties of the passengers, to return to the vehicle and protect his charge. This he did, taking with him some bread and meal-the only provisions to be had. On the following day, some refreshments of a better nature were taken to him; and he continued faithfully to maintain his post until the coach was dug out four days later.

Quite as unfortunate was 'The Telegraph' in its journey from Glasgow to Ayr on the same day. Having stuck fast a short distance from King's Well, with no possibility of escape, the guard, driver, and outside passengers huddled themselves inside the coach as best they could, and there remained until the following day. One unfortunate passenger, for whom there was no available space in the interior of the conveyance, attempted to make his way to King's Well on one of the horses; but the task was a hopeless one, and the poor man perished in the storm.

The winter of 1819-20 saw a great snow-storm overspread Great Britain and Ireland. So keen had been the frost, that about the beginning of January in the latter year, loaded carts for several days passed over the Clyde at Renfrew, and footpassengers at Erskine. On Sunday evening the 16th of January, the streets of Edinburgh presented all the appearance of a Canadian storm. Snow fell densely, and was so dry, from the keenness of the atmosphere, that it was driven in great clouds, and accumulated in enormous wreaths at street_corners. During the week, on the Glasgow Road, at the village of Corstorphine, it lay at a depth of from eight to ten feet; while in Fife the ground was generally covered to a depth of four feet. So intense was the cold, that, on Tuesday morning the 18th, the great waterpipe at the reservoir on the Castle Hill, Edinburgh, was found to be frozen-a circumstance that had not occurred for thirty years before. In the South, a similar state of things prevailed. The Thames at Woolwich was frozen in several parts to a thickness of five feet; while at Lambeth, it was said that one piece of ice reached a thickness of twelve feet.

The

Following on such a storm as this, the inevitable thaw, particularly if it came suddenly, would necessarily be as inconvenient for the time as the storm itself. The thaw in some parts of Scotland set in suddenly, and great floods ensued. Water of Leith, on Monday morning the 24th of January, presented a spectacle truly imposing. Down the valley of the Dean rolled, with majestic fury, a great volume of water, carrying with it huge masses of ice, wood, stones, and other débris. At Bonnington Mills, where the ice had not yet given way, its impetuous course was impeded; and then the dammed-up stream quickly overflowed its banks as far back as Canonmills Distillery; overspread the gardens at the back of Canonmills village and Logie Green; burst through the wall at the end of Warriston Crescent, and speedily filled the spacious park there.-At Dumfries, so high did the river rise, that some of the lower lying parts more resembled a district of Venice, than of the ancient burgh. In Bridge Street and Brewery Street, where the water was lashing against the windows and oozing through the doors, a gondola would doubtless have been hailed with delight.

The winter of 1820 was in some respects even

Journal

full possession of her faculties, to her family and friends, who had given her up for lost. She said she had a distinct recollection of hearing the village bells chiming for the church service, on the day after that on which she was inwrapped in what she believed was to be her winding-sheet; and equally good was her hearing on the morning of the day on which she was rescued, when, on the bells again chiming, she recognised them. About thirty or forty years ago, a monument com

exceeded in severity by that of 1814. In January of the last-mentioned year, the snow near Glasgow lay level with the tops of the hedges, and several coaches, caught in snow-wreaths, had to be abandoned. So intense had been the frost, that, on Friday the 21st, several loaded wagons, each weighing thirty-two hundredweight, crossed the Clyde at Dalmarnock Ford. At Kelso, a number of persons availed themselves of this state of things to indulge in a species of diversion which has only been practised on rare occasions. Some of the respect-memorative of the event, with an inscription statable inhabitants of the town decided to celebrate the reign of Jack Frost by holding a dinner on the ice; and instructions were accordingly given to the jolly host of the Queen's Head to provide a feast on the middle of the river Tweed. A commodious pavilion, comfortably heated with stoves, having been erected midway in the river, a hot and sumptuous dinner was served therein to between forty and fifty persons. On the cloth being removed, the chairman gave 'King George,' which was drunk with three times three; and among other toasts and sentiments that followed, were 'Lord Wellington and our gallant armies in France;' 'General Frost, who so signally fought last winter for the deliverers of Europe, and who supports the present company;' and Both sides of the Tweed, and God preserve us in the middle.' The company were much pleased to have with them an old inhabitant who had been present at a similar entertainment, held at the same place, during the memorable winter of 1740, when part of an ox was roasted on the ice.

In the course of the winter of 1814, not only was the list of persons who perished in the snow a painfully long one, but many animals were lost, particularly sheep. There were, however, some remarkable instances of the latter being rescued, after a protracted entombment. One belonging to a gentleman in the south of Scotland, was rescued after having been buried for six weeks. It was not much the worse for its imprisonment; for, after a little stumbling, it was able to walk home before the shepherd, and by-and-by, was as strong as the rest of the flock. On the 22d of February, a sheep belonging to a farmer in Berwickshire was dug out, after having been for fourteen days entombed in the snow. Instances might be multiplied of animals having existed thus for a considerable period in a state of semitorpidity, when protected from the frost by a substantial covering of snow.

Neither are instances wanting of the almost miraculous preservation of human beings when buried in a drift-wreath. Few more remarkable than the following will be found, which occurred at the village of Impington, about three miles from Cambridge. On the 2d of February 1799, Mrs Elizabeth Woodcock, a respectable resident of the village, on returning home from market, was overtaken by snow-drift. Lying down beside a hedge, she was completely enveloped, and remained there until the 10th of the month-a period of eight days and eight nights. During the interval, one of the villagers is Baid to have dreamed, on three different occasions, that a hare was to be found at a particular spot at the roadside near the village. Immediately after the last occasion, he resolved to go and see; and on doing so, he discovered a handkerchief in a hole in the snow; and on further search, to his amazement, Mrs Woodcock. She was conveyed, in the

ing the particulars, was erected on the spot; and
persons are said to be still living in the village
who remember having seen Mrs Woodcock.
The great storm of 1795 lasted for fifty-one
days; and on a simultaneous appeal being made
to the 'Oldest Inhabitant' in all parts of the
country, that venerable personage positively failed
to conjure up from memory a parallel winter,
unless, indeed, it were that of 1740. On the
Thames, there was a general suspension of com-
merce, and it was said there were no fewer than
three hundred vessels fast in the ice. During the
months of January and February, a great many
persons perished in the snow or from the cold-
not a few in circumstances exceedingly painful.
But there was also a very considerable catalogue
of gallant rescues. We select the following two
examples of deliverance effected by the agency
of the dumb animal that has always been among
the best friends of man. One day towards the
end of January, a Norfolk farmer, while returning
home from the town of Norwich, became so
benumbed by the cold, that he was compelled
to lie down in the snow. He would undoubtedly
have perished but for his dog, which, with a
pathetic sagacity, stretched its body across its
master's breast, and so protected his lungs from
the cold. In this position it lay for several hours,
until at length, by continued barking and howling,
it attracted attention and relief.

An almost equal power of discernment was displayed in the following instance. About the same period, while a farmer near Huntlycote was, with the assistance of his shepherd, relieving some sheep from the snow-drift at the side of a bank, a large quantity of snow shot down in the form of an avalanche from the higher ground, and enveloped the two men. There they must have remained, and perhaps perished, but for the sagacity of their two faithful collies. The dogs at once scampered home, and by their excited demeanour and continuous howling, aroused the suspicions of the women, whom they by-and-by induced to follow them to the spot where their masters were buried. Arrived there, the animals commenced to scrape the snow; and the situation having thus been made plain, the men were dug out, after a confinement of six hours, of which, however, they were not much the worse.

Whether our climate has been really and substantially ameliorated, is a question which we do not propose to consider here; but certain it is that our fathers and grandfathers have told us that in their youth there were snow-storms and severe winters terribly worthy of the names, and the like of which have seldom, if ever, been experienced in recent times. It would appear that those casualties and fatal occurrences which are the invariable concomitants of austere seasons, were more frequent a century ago than now; while

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