"Would Donald gang?" and keek'd' in Donald's face, While Donald blink'd with meditative gaze,

As if he knew full brawly what we said,
And ponder'd o'er it, wiser far than we.
But how I answer'd, how explain'd these themes,
I know not. Oft I could not speak at all.
Yet every question made me think of things
Forgotten, puzzled so, and when I strove
To reason, puzzled me so much the more,
That, flinging logic to the winds, I went
Straight onward to the mark in Willie's way,
Took most for granted, laid down premises
Of Faith, imagined, gave my wit the reins,
And oft on nights at e'en, to my surprise,
Felt palpably an angel's glowing face
Glimmering down upon me, while mine eyes
Dimm'd their old orbs with tears that came unbid
To bear the glory of the light they saw.

So summer pass'd. Yon chestnut at the door
Scatter'd its burnish'd leaves and made a sound
Of wind among its branches.

Every day

Came Willie, seldom going home again

Till near the sunset: wet or dry he came :
Oft in the rainy weather carrying

A big umbrella, under which he walk'd-
A little fairy in a parachute,

Blown hither, thither, at the wind's wild will.
Pleased was my heart to see his pallid cheeks
Were gathering rosy posies, that his eyes
Were softer and less sad. Then, with a gust,
Old Winter tumbled shrieking from the hills,
His white hair blowing in the wind.

The house

Where Willie's mother lives is scarce a mile

From yonder hallan, if you take a cut
Before you reach the village, crossing o'er

1 Peeped.

Green meadows till you reach the road again ;
But he who thither goes along the road
Loses a reaper's mile. The summer long

Wee Willie came and went across the fields:
He loved the smell of flowers and grass, the sight
Of cows and sheep, the changing stalks of wheat,
And he was weak and small. When winter came,
Still caring not a straw for wind or rain,
Came Willie and the collie; till by night
Down fell the snow, and fell three nights and days,
Then ceased, The ground was white and ankle-deep;
The window of the school was threaded o'er
With flowers of hueless ice-Frost's unseen hands
Prick'd you from head to foot with tinging heat;
The shouting urchins, yonder on the green,
Play'd snowballs. In the school a cheery fire
Was kindled every day, and every day
When Willie came he had the warmest seat,
And every day old Donald, punctual, came
To join us, after labour, in the lowe.

Three days and nights the snow had mistily fall'n.
It lay long miles along the country-side,
White, awful, silent. In the keen cold air
There was a hush, a sleepless silentness,
And 'mid it all, upraising eyes, you felt
God's breath upon your face; and in your blood,
Though you were cold to touch, was flaming fire,
Such as within the bowels of the earth

Burnt at the bones of ice, and wreath'd them round With grass ungrown.

One day in school I saw, Through threaded window-panes, soft, snowy flakes Swim with unquiet motion, mistily, slowly, At intervals; but when the boys were gone, And in ran Donald with a dripping nose, The air was clear and grey as glass. An hour Sat Willie, Donald, and myself around

The murmuring fire, and then with tender hand
I wrapt a comforter round Willie's throat,
Button'd his coat around him close and warm,
And off he ran with Donald, happy-eyed
And merry, leaving fairy prints of feet

Behind him on the snow. I watch'd them fade
Round the white curve, and, turning with a sigh,
Came in to sort the room and smoke a pipe
Before the fire. Here, dreamingly and alone,
I sat and smoked, and in the fire saw clear
The norland mountains, white and cold with snow
That crumbled silently, and moved, and changed,—
When suddenly the air grew sick and dark,
And from the distance came a hollow sound,
A murmur like the moan of far-off seas.

I started to my feet, look'd out, and knew
The winter wind was whistling from the clouds
To lash the snow-clothed plain, and to myself
I prophesied a storm before the night.
Then with an icy pain, an eldritch gleam,
I thought of Willie; but I cheer'd my heart,
"He's home, and with his mother, long ere this!"
While thus I stood the hollow murmur grew
Deeper, the wold grew darker, and the snow
Rush'd downward, whirling in a shadowy mist.
I walk'd to yonder door and open'd it.

Whirr! the wind swung it from me with a clang,
And in upon me with an iron-like crash

Swoop'd in the drift. With pinch'd sharp face I gazed
Out on the storm! Dark, dark was all! A mist,
A blinding, whirling mist, of chilly snow,

The falling and the driven; for the wind
Swept round and round in clouds upon the earth,
And birm'd the deathly drift aloft with moans,
Till all was swooning darkness. Far above
A voice was shrieking, like a human cry.

I closed the door, and turn'd me to the fire,

With something on my heart--a load—a sense
Of an impending pain. Down the broad lum1
Came melting flakes that hiss'd upon the coal;
Under my eyelids blew the blinding smoke,
And for a time I sat like one bewitch'd,
Still as a stone. The lonely room grew dark,
The flickering fire threw phantoms of the snow
Along the floor and on the walls around;
The melancholy ticking of the clock

Was like the beating of my heart. But, hush!
Above the moaning of the wind I heard
A sudden scraping at the door; my heart
Stood still and listen'd; and with that there rose
An awsome howl, shrill as a dying screech,

And scrape-scrape-scrape, the sound beyond the door;
I could not think-I could not breathe-
—a dark,
Awful foreboding gript me like a hand,
As opening the door I gazed straight out,
Saw nothing, till I felt against my knees

Something that moved, and heard a moaning sound-
Then, panting, moaning, o'er the threshold leapt,
Donald the dog, alone, and white with snow.

Down, Donald! down, old man! Sir, look at him I swear he knows the meaning of my words, And tho' he cannot speak, his heart is full! See now! see now! he puts his cold black nose Into my palm and whines! he knows, he knows! Would speak, and cannot, but he minds that night!

The terror of my heart seem'd choking me: Dumbly I stared and wildly at the dog, Who gazed into my face and whined and moan'd, Leapt at the door, then touch'd me with his paws, And lastly, gript my coat between his teeth, And pull'd and pull'd, whiles growling, whining whiles, Till fairly madden'd, in bewilder'd fear,

I let him drag me through the banging door

Out to the whirling storm. Bareheaded, wild,
The wind and snow-drift beating on my face,
Blowing me hither, thither, with the dog,
I dash'd along the road. What follow'd seem'd
An eerie,1 eerie dream !—a world of snow,
A sky of wind, a whirling, howling mist
Which swam around with hundred sickly eyes;
And Donald dragging, dragging, beaten, bruised,
Leading me on to something that I fear'd-
An awful something, and I knew not what!
On, on, and farther on, and still the snow
Whirling, the tempest moaning! Then I mind
Of groping, groping in the shadowy light,
And Donald by me burrowing with his nose
And whining. Next a darkness, blank and deep!
But then I mind of tearing thro' the storm,
Stumbling and tripping, blind and deaf and dumb,
And holding to my heart an icy load

I clutch'd with freezing fingers. Far away-
It seem'd long miles on miles away-I saw
A yellow light-unto that light I tore-
And last, remember opening a door
And falling, dazzled by a blinding gleam
Of human faces and a flaming fire,
And with a crash of voices in my ears
Fading away into a world of snow.

When I awaken'd to myself, I lay
In my own bed at home. I started up
As from an evil dream and look'd around,
And to my side came one, a neighbour's wife,
Mother to two young lads I taught in school.
With hollow, hollow voice I question'd her,
And soon knew all : how a long night had pass'd
Since, with a lifeless laddie in my arms,
I stumbled, horror-stricken, swooning, wild
Into a ploughman's cottage: at my side,
My coat between his teeth, a dog; and how

1 Dismal.