Wilcox, in a low voice, and with that gentle air of deferential
sweetness which always made everybody well satisfied to do his will. The
consequence was, that in a few moments Mary was startled from her calm
speculations by the voice of Mrs. Wilcox, saying at her elbow, in a
formal tone,--
"Miss Scudder, I have the honor to present to your acquaintance Colonel
Burr, of the United States Senate."
(To be continued.)
THE WALKER OF THE SNOW.
Speed on, speed on, good master!
The camp lies far away;--
We must cross the haunted valley
Before the close of day.
How the snow-blight came upon me
I will tell you as we go,--
The blight of the shadow hunter
Who walks the midnight snow.
To the cold December heaven
Came the pale moon and the stars,
As the yellow sun was sinking
Behind the purple bars.
The snow was deeply drifted
Upon the ridges drear
That lay for miles between me
And the camp for which we steer.
'Twas silent on the hill-side,
And by the solemn wood
No sound of life or motion
To break the solitude,
Save the wailing of the moose-bird
With a plaintive note and low,
And the skating of the red leaf
Upon the frozen snow.
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