LEWISBURG K- h 1 J 9 THE WEST BRANCH FARMER. 0 RONICl APJD an BY 0. N; WOEDEN. THE RAVEN....BJ Edgar A. Poe, dee'd. ' . 1 Oore upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, wrak end weary,' Over many a quaiut and curious volume of forgotten lore While I nodded, nearly napping, suddeoly (here came a tapping, As of onie one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door " Tie aome visiter," I mutt-red, "tapping at my chamJer door Only this, and nothing more." ft Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, . And each separate dying ember wrought its ghot upou the floor, lieivrly I wished the morrow ; vainly 1 had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorro fur the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Leaore Nameless here for evermore. f And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me filled me with fuuiastic terrors never felt before J So that oow to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating, Tie some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door This it is, and nothing more." 4 Present! my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer. Sir." said 1, " or Madam, truly your forgiveness 1 implore ; But the fad is I was napping, and so geutly you came rapping. And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door. That I scarce was sure I heard vou" here I opened wide the dour Da rliBt-si there, nnd nothing more. 3 Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing. Doubting, dreaming dreams do mortal ever dared to dream before : Hut the sileuce was unbroken, and the stillness give no token. And the only word there spoken was the whispered wofJ "Ignore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more. Baek into my chamber turning all my soul within me burning, Soon again 1 hesrd a tapping somewhat louder than before. p Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice ; ' Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; Tis the wind, and nothing more ! f Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flatter. In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore : Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute stopped or stayed he t Hut with mien of lord or lady perched above my chamber door 1'crcht d upou a bust of Pallas juvl above my chamber door Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 8 Tbn this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, Hy the grave and sttro decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," said, "art sure no craven. Ghastly, grim, and ancient Rtvea wandering from the Nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore?" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 8' Much I marveled, this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly. Though its answer little meaning luile relevancy bore ; For we can not help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet wsa blessed with setting bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upou the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as Nevermore." !0 B jt the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only . That one word, as if his soul he did in that ou'pour. Nothing further then he muttered not a feather then he filtered Till I scarcely more than uttered ' O her friends have flown before' Oo the morrow he will leave me, as my friend have flowo before." Then he said, Nevermore." 11 Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, Doubtless," said I, " what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some un nappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster until bis soul one burden bore Till the dirges of bis Hope that melancholy burden bore Ot Never nevermore. " 12 Rut the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling. Straight 1 wheeled a cushioned seal in Iront of bird, and bust, and door, Then upon the velvet sinking, 1 betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy thinking what this ominous bird of yore What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yors Meant by croaking " Nevermore." T9 Thus 1 sst engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose hvry eves now burned within my bosom's core ; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining. On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore ! ft Then, meihought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swuiij: by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tutted floor. "Wretch!" 1 cried, " thy God hath lent thet -by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe Irom thv memories of Lenore! Qua!', O quatf this kind nepenthe, and lorget the loft Lenore!" Quoth the Riven, " Nevermore !" IS " Prophet!" said h "thing of evil prophet still, if bird or devil f Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore; Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this horse by Horror hacnted tell me truly, 1 implore Is there. i$ there ba'm in Gilead tell me tell me. I implore !" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!' 1 Prophet .'" said I, " thing of evil prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that heaven that bends above us -by that G id we both adore Tell this soul with sorrow laden if within the distant Aidden It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore f Q i-jtb the Raven, "Nevermore. f 7 "Re that word-our sign of parting, bird or fiend !" I shrieked, upstarting " Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore 1 Leave no black- plume as a token of that lie thou hast spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbrokeu ! quit the bust above my door ! Take Ihy beak Irom out my heart, and take thy form from off my doof P' Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore!" IT And the Riven; never flitting, stiH is sitting, tlill is silting Oa the pull id bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;' And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him-streaming throws his shadow on the floor ! And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted nevermore ! Why is the great Russian Bear, Nicho- I 'sts, like a half-starved fox ? Because he's J gt Nung(a)ry, and wants Turkey. Apples are not only palatable and cheap bat also nuTHious and heakby J rare I wtnbiuatioo. ' independent jatnUn The Commissioners to determine the Southern boundary line of Pennsy lvania, have discovered old landmarks which show ,h" eeral valuable farina, heretofore supposed to belong to Delaware, arc in fact the territory of Pennsylvania. flapec bcuotcu to FERGUS. V JACOB ABBOTT. Concluded George stood at the window too.lookinjr out at one of the lower panes. They watch ed Fergus as he waded along, pikestaff in hand, tie went slowly on titl he passed out of lb yard, and apprjtehed the apple tree,where he was to turn off iutoi the road, out of his parents' si-iht. He turned around, waved his pil.es'.uff with a parting smile, and then disappeared. George turned away in silence to the cradle, and began gently to rock it, saying to himself 'How possi ble it is that we shnll never see him smile again I" Mary went away intsjSJtie other room, and knelt at the bedside, and prayed that as they had now done what seemed to the.n best, God would take the result in to bis own hands, and give them hearts of quiet submission to his will. She pressed her handkerchief upon her eyes, with both her hecde',as her head reclined upon them, hut the pishing would come, while she offered the petition. H it we will follow Fcrg'j. (lis rond led !.!n down into a valley, in which it crossed Va brook where he had played in the stim- p mer days many an afternwn. He reached the brook without muoh diiTiaulty, and as the wind had blown the snow rncstlffalVpm the bridge he walked over it freely.Vng his pikesTtfi upon the"wks, and looking with a kind of eati jc(tou At his clothes. whitened with the .snow higher tbanJw knees. He looked over the ratlin? of rte bridge, and was surprised f' Nr much the brook had disappeared, a been frozen over, and was conipnneiy covered with snow, and even thebed of the stream was so filled in with drifts that all indica tions of a brook were entirely gone. Still, when he listened, he could hear a low gurgling, as if under ground. Fergus did not stop long at the bridge the wind and falling snow drove him on. His road here turned down the valley, but at the turn a large drift, which was too deep tor him, extended across the road. He waded into it as far as he could, and then thrust his pikestaff down into it, on before. It was almost over his head, and the snow was falling so thick around him, and blew with such violence in'o his face and eyes, that he could not see. He sank down oo the soft bed beneath him to rest a moment. turning his hick towards the wind. " I wonder," said he to himself, "what makes it always blow the hardest just as I am in the middle of the deepest drifts! I'll keep still till it is tired." As he sat or rather reclined thus, almost buried in the drift, his face turned toward j the side of the road, he saw that along on the other side of the fence was a sort of an eddy where the snow had almost entirely blown away. He could see with difficulty, for the air was thick, and his eyelids ere frosted over. He perceived, however, by the little tufts ol grass, (hit the ground was birely covered there, near the fence. So, after renting a moment, and letting his lace get warm by keeping it sheltered from the wind, he plongVd his way out ol the drift, climbed over the fence, and walked along under its Ice. It was an open rail fence, and Fergus could not understand how it could have so much effect iu sheltering the ground be yond it ; but wiser philosophers than Fer- igus hsve been puzzled in attempting to account for the distribution of the drifts in a snow storm. He went along quite easily till he came to the woods, where ihe fence turned off in snother direction, nnd then he came into the road again. These woods continued uninterrupted down to the pond, an J consequently for the rest of ihe way the wind ceased, and the surface of snow vtfas level. It was pretty deep, but then it was light, and Fergus broke his way in it without much difficulty, tho he proceeded sbwly. He, in fact, enjoyed going thro' the woods. The calmness of the air, and the gentleness with which the snow fell, led him, as it has often dene more experienced travelers, to imagine that the violence of the storm was abating. The air actually felt mild and bland to bis cheek.and Fergus thought his troubles were over. The noise ol the blast still sweeping heavily along the tops of the trees, might' Rave undeceived him, but Fergus attended only (o the pleasanter indications" that were near. After walking thus a quarter of a mile through the woods, he came out upon the shore of the pond, at the lahding.where he emerged suddenly into a tempest of wind and driving snow. A great drift lay in his way. He struggled into it. but it was too deep for him to get through, and the News, fiiteratnte, WEDNESDAY, NOV. snow whirled around bim, and drove into his face so that ho could not see or scarcely bieatho. He turned hi back to it sga'ii, and paused in the snow to r t. His eyes fell on a daik object diwn by the shore of the pond Now any dark object always attracts tl.e foe-steps ol a trawler when forcing b-s sy through deep snows. It seems to belong to t!;e solid ground, an:i promises an easier paih by the side of it. Fergus turned in tht direction, nnd soon reached it. It was he eo'ge of the boat, in whk-h he had often crossed in summer, and which hud been hau'e l up there.frozen in, and a 'most buried. Fergus could not help wishing it was a summer evening, wuh green fielils.and blue sky, and a soft breeze among the leaves so that he might launch the boat and psdJIo himself to the other shore. He paused thus for a moment to contrast the summer with the winter scene.and then turned his fice towards the smooth and level surfHco of the pond before him- The air was so lull of driving snow that he could not see but a very little way, but then some traces of the road across the ice were visible, nnd he pushed on. The snow was level upon the pond, as it had been in the woods, but it was more conso lidated, and his progress through it more laborious. The wind, too, which came roaring down from old Hoary head, in the north-east, over the broad, open surface of the pond; made it hard for him to struggle on. He succeeded, however, at length, in fairly gaining the opposite shore, without actually losing his track, and then after a short walk in a sheltered valley, he turned nut of the road into the Doctor's yard, and waded up to his door. And now, since he is safely there, we will return to his parents. ,George went to his shop to finish his work, promising to return and take care of Renny while Mary prepared supper. He accordingly came in again after half an hour, looking up anx iously as he crossed the yard at the signs of increasing violence in (he storm. As he entered, Mary was rocking i-enoy, and he took her place, in a low chair he ha I ovide expressly for the purpose. "Benny," said he, holding out his hands to the little suff erer. " Benny ! want to come and rock with father?' Benny made an effort to reach out his hnnds, but from wenkness they dropped again, at his side. George took him up gently, and laying the child's face upon his shoulder. murmured words of sympathy and coiidolenci-Jn his ear. M iry went to the window. " Oh, my George," said she, "what a storm ! Poor Fergus he nrter will get across the pond. How could we let him go!" " We d:d the be-t we could, Mary, nnd now you must not make yourself aud me anxious and unhappy about it." "Why how can I help feeling an.iious my poor boy out on a lone road, in such a storm as this, and night coming on !" 'Wo can h'-io feeling anxious in a mea sure," replied Oeoigo, " we cau try to think of something else, and il an anxious thought comes into yur mind, do n't say it out speaking it only makes it stronger. The child is in God's hands, and we have now nothing to do for him." Mary could not reply to this, and went about her work, preparing supper. But ber mind was ill at ease. Sim could not deny George's position that their boy Was entirely out of their hands, and that God by making it plainly their duty to send him (at least as it appeared to them,) had1 takeu the re sponsibilityof his s-tfeiy into Hi own hands but after all her heart was not submissive. George,too,fell an instinctive parental soli- citude,which made him follow in imagina tion every step ol Fergus' way, nut his heart was subdued, and submissive to the will of God, in regard to the result ; so that he was calm and peicel'ul in spirit, tho' the swelling emotions of his heart repea'edly filled his eyes. He hummed in Benny's ear.in words too imperfectly ariiculaled to be heard, the good old hymn, "Upwarifo I lift mine eyes. From God is all my-sid." And they who know by experience what it is really to resign everything into God's hands in the hour of serious danger or trouble, will not think it stmngel that he spent a half hour in a slate of very pure and heart-felt enjoyment. In the meantime, Mary wna'btrsy in her preparations for supper, and particularly in making a little apple turn-over' for Fergus, against he came back." An apple turn over was Fergus' Highest idea of luxury, and Mary by her interest in making" rt got over another half hour very well. TIm! time however soon rrived' thirt UtoMmtmi to' Politics Vgrtcultnre, 6rience and iHorolitn. 8, 1849. l,e doctor's sleigh-bells. It was a quart.-r viotK-o of il.e moral sense that such a of an hour before they should rea-o:.ab:y lee: v.r.i rebellion against God in one tr. fcetxpected, bul this 'quarter of an hour wh-jrr, Ud hd always been s kind and gilded awav very soon, and davlitfhi lgsnW'n-V. a prottcor, w guilty b the ex sensibly to decline. She repeatedly 'ef, j 'ten e.whether she could he'p it or i-t.and for work to gaze anxiously from the wiu-it thu fruitless!.-, cf her atte.np's t dow. At last h asked lieorb-e il it wu.'lrol H, only showed ht.w deeply it was n..t time for them to rome ? s"'eJ- Th a" her slJ 13 End " Why, no," said (t.-r-rge. heating. ' Ij f-' 8 cf contending emotioas. should hsrdlv expect then, v.t. j mnn time Reuny had been re- "l is two hour an. more, aWv, and Mn-d to his cradle, and he gradually it is urowi,,,; d.rk." M-ry brought her face! unk into a kin! of lethargy. Geoiee sat ' cloe to the gluss.sha.li.ii her eyes from the i light in the room by pulling her hands on Ipach side erf them, and straining her sight to j look down the road ; but the snow which filled the air.drove 3g:iinst the w indow.and trickled down on the outside.nid prevented her seeina much. I do not believe it is possible for the poor little fellow to get across the pond in such a niht as this." Well Mary, we hive nothing to do but to wait quietly for the end, now. There is nothing ue can do, and it is wrong to be restless and anxious about it." "O dear!" s;iid Mary, sitting down and gazing into tl.e Are with a look of j;rni distress. "How sorry 1 n. we let him g! mirrht hsve iors and now he will i-eri,!. - o - . in the scow, and I shall never heve another moment's peace, as long as I live. "But consider.Marv ," sa'd Georgr, "wo have done the best we could ; and I e is ia God's hands. You are not willing to leave him there." "Oh George,' said she, ''it is too dread ful." She arose and walked back and forth across the room with a hurried and restUsa! step. The truth was that the strong impulses ol maternal anxiety, had gained an entire triumph over her feelings of Christian re signation to Ihe divine will. George had ieft the case in the hands of God. and was quietly awaiting the result. Not coldly and with unconcern for his heart was full of the deepest and trnderest imeiest in j the fa,e r hi ,itt,e son ' bul uhi! fections and sympathies were all deeply in terested in the case, his will stood aside, and entered into oo enn'est with God in respect to the issue. Mary however c uM not cive up the ense to (, icf. ii-r uiinu and will struuiled for tho con'rol u' it, and as she was utterly uh;i:t -: r, her soul was in a state of indevvibj l lu tumult and agita'ion. Nothing n.ulvCs such commo tions in the soul, as a will struggling for dominion, while yet it is powerless. Ii rages like a maniac, chained, but unsub dued. Two reasons made the duty of submiss ion, in this case, far more easy furGeorue. than for Mary. First, he was not the mother- There was a semi-animal instinct of parental love in her ! s m, whi.-h was' altogether weaker in his. Then ogiin from difference in their habits of mind, he wa accustomed to see more of the bright side, and she more of the dark. I lis natural association of thought were rh's-r.V; Mi ry's were sad. So that when any rode blast ol unusual fury shook the windows it was lollowed in M iry'smind by tiieidea of Fergus perishing under in the snow- while to George, it suggested ihe probabil ity that the wind it elf might be a g'ide to Fergus, to the poin's of the compass, if h should get lost or that it would llowfT the snow from the ice, or some other en couraging idea. Thus submission was a far more easy duty to George than to M i ry, still it was no less a duly to both. The tumult in Mary's mind ihcren-ed u tfe next hour passed away without bring ing any tidings ol her boy. Her agitation and her sufferings were increased loo, b the conviction that her feelings were w roni i and that her plain unwillingness to subom to the decision of God was entirely inci.n sistent with her Christian vows. But u. leel right is a very d.lTorent thing from struggling against feeling wrVing. She saw clearly how unreasonable it was for her to be unwilling that God should decide, nnd how foolish it was.cven in heart,to nt'empt to resists! him ; then by a kind of desper ate struggle, she would resolve to give uo the contest, and resin n the case entirely into God's hands ; bul it was of little avail. She found that the root of iubmision lay loo deep. Resolutions and determin ations somehow or other, did not reach i'. After the most energetic exercise of the will to feel right which seemed possi ble, she would find in a few minutes her heart rising-again-in restless insubmission Tlien would succeed a feeling of despair at the hopelessness of her efforts ; then selfreprdaciT for this sinful rising against God;- then' the suggestion that she could not be to Wame for what it was plain she ffffilnv a then- t!i naiicuve VOL. m " cr.a.r ny me corner,rg me craaie ana resume a imci uj i.ic i-giu u. the tire. The lea kettle hummed a mono - tonous song close beforo the fire, and by the side of it wis a plate, whose contents were covered and cocceeli'd by a bov. l re versed over it. It was Fergus lurn-over. An hour more passed away. It w;:s al ter 4ine o'clock, Mary declared she could ' br he anxiety and suspenss no longer, :rd that she wouIJ o out herself and seej what had become of her boy. George trunJ to dissuade ht-r, but with little success. Ik represented to her that she could do noth on such a night, in such a wild unfre- j quentea ron, tr.at s-ne ccuiu noi see u i . , . l I , .L . v., ! or eve ''n0 ntt wnv " I know it is bad,'' said she, " Lut ooor Fergus must be perishing in this sturm ani I tan not stay h' re " No,'' said George, " we can't be sure of that, by any means. Perhaps the doc tor kept him ihert. to wait till morning or perhaps he was not at home or per- b.tns some one my ha.e met w ith Fer - m to go Sus 00 w--v- nd d him home with him till the storm is over. At any rate it will not Jo any good for you to go out. Then besides," said he, "look at poor Benny thtT' ; if anything happens! to you, wjial will become of him V' J Mary sew tb; hcpclessmss of any efforts she could make, but a feeling which she. cou'd not resist, seeing to impel her on in her preparations, though s!ie was evidently undi eided am) perp'exed. Twice she took off her bonnet and laid it down, and then, ai"er picing back and forth across the room, took it again, saying," mutt go." At length she openad the door and went out, though she assured George ihat she was only Eoini; a ft w steps down tl.e road. The snow was so drifted in the yard that it lay in great heaps and ridges, but j its greeting better, though it was only a si she contrived to work her way slowly j lent smi'e. He found that Lora was bring a!an; u the shallow places between them, j tng a ehair for him, liltiug U laboriously The wiud blew the snow, however, so vi-1 w th both hands. He took it as silently a olently into her face, that she was altiosi ( it was trVred, and put his aching feet low blind, and sometimeshad to titro 'rottni to; aids th Sre. get b.-eath. She at length made he.- wsy 1 " I como far your father. Lorn, to go' down the yard, and out to the turn uf the road. She noticed- tlte traces ol Fergus' fool-steps thus far. but h-re c' hlj-h c:e-ttd ndte ran ob'iiucfv crs the rind, in which all traces of bis palh Lad been bur-1 ied up, , and which effectually prevented her from making any fl.'her progress. She stood here tt moment in despair. Shj caueu tereun: with ;l the streogri ol voice she could raise, and then paused. hoi. ding her brea;hf to es'ch a reply. Bj! it was in vain to attempt to listen. The sweeping sound of the sun.? flying 'round her the flapping of her cloak, and above nl! the awful howling of ihe wind among the branches and tops of the lorest trees, woul'd have been mere than than mifhVient lo have drowned the crv of a pershing ehild, had such' a cry been uttered near her and Mary turned away, pale anJ al most fainting with anxious fear.nnd toiled her way back to the house. Her heart was in a State rf utter rebellion against the supremacy of God. There is a point, both in mental and bo Ay suffering, where the power of endur ance iisell seems at length to be exhausted, hi I the words that arie sre, ' can nut leuT lis any longer." Tney who watch wiih ihe sick, observe this point, as the pa tient passes it in the progress of pain the succumbing and sinking of the spirit, when the load becomes at lusi intolerable. M i ry was very near this point, as she re turned to the house. But we must next see Fergus. We left him going up safely to the door of the doctor's snug Utile farm house. It was in it na'r'rbvglen, sheltered towards the north by high cliffs. A noisy stream at a small distance from the house formed in summei a beautilul brook, now nearly concealed by icu and snow. When Fergus reached the house, it appeared deserted. The snow lav piled up about the doors and windows, and he saw no track. "What," said he lo himself, "nobody si l.nmeT Then easting his eve up. he saw a slii'hl sin'oke, blowing' off from the chim ney top. "Ah e," said he. 1 thought Mother Conny at least must be there." VI., NO. 35 95. He vaded thro' the yard and weut'ruund into a thej which opened towards tft south and was of course sheltered from the storm here he could breathe Ireely. He brush d and beat the snow from bis cloihes.and took off his cap snJ shook it. His fingers and feet ache.-! with the cold, but he thought that these preparations were necessary. Sit r.I uher Conny's ideas of tidiness seemed, to grow more rigid as ahe grew old, and, she was not a particularly gentle hostess when displeased. Fergus, then ascended one or two steps which led from the shed into a small room : attached to the kitchen. It contamec yar. "ous tools aud utensils, arranged in order. and a spinning wheel in one corner. The room had a chilly, comfortless expression, which was Increased by the sound of the wind and snow driving against the window. Fergus came to the door leading into the kitchen there was no latch or handle vis ibie, but in place of them a leather string, with a knot at the enj of it, protruded thro' a gin.blct ho!o. Fergus pulled this string it raised the wooden latch on the inside ; .the door opened, and he entered, in a large, o'.i fashioned elbow chair j by the sida of tl.e tire, sat Mother Conny, knitting. Her crutches were le.inin up agiinst the chimney by her side. A plain round table was standing in the middle of j the room, with cups and plates upon it. which a beautilul little blue-eyed girl was arranging. She looked at Fergus when he came in, and smiled. ; "Why FergusyAild," said the old lady in . j rather in a severe voice, 'm :i you f Well you're in a fine case.I declare caught out here, a mile and more from home, in this s'orm. Run away, I dare say, and now your poor mother is haif crazy. VtU, said she to herself "so it is always with children. I only wish my son was not like all the rest of 'em. "Why mother," said Fergus, "the snow birds are out to day, and why should null be, I am stouter ihan a snow bird- "A snow bird !" said the old lady, with a look of contempt. And ther.'ippearng not to have anything else to went off knitting as fast as she could. Fergus turned 'round to look for little Lora again. It seemed he liked fir it child- j hood better than second at least he likei nnd see littU Cennf ; is he at home 2" " At home?" said the old lady "no my John is never at home. He is always a traveling oiT among these woods and mountains, n;ght and day. And now ne a goneo horseback, away round old Ifoa- ry head and such a storm. 1 tolJ htm it was going to be a terrible blow ; I knew by signs. And il 's turned out true, for there has not been such a slorm.since stor my M mday, thirty years ag, come next mouth." "Why Mother,'' said Feig'us" "I don't think it is so very bad. Tne snow is not so deep as it was in soma storm last win ter. But is not done yef, chilJ. I tell yevi there has not been such a storm this thirty years, as this is, and is going to b.'' Fergus piused a moment, considering his situation. Tnen rising, he said, Well, then I must go home alon?, and the sooner I'm on the pond, the better." L ra told him he had better wait ; she thought her father wjuld be at horn b-f .re long, anJ she went to thj front room win dow to sec if shj could- nit see him com ing ; but nothing was visible bul driving' and diifted snow. The old lady a'" remonstrate! aijiti'.t his going, and ured that "her John" co'jld carry him over in tin iittrnln. Tie truth was, her asperity was only superficial there was a rurrent of real g wd will be neath. Fergus however, sai 1 he mutt g back, for his in it her would be very anx ious about him! if he did not return. "That is tru:," said the old lady, "anJ I like you for that. I km ho muhers feel. I wish my John w ui'd care a little about hie mother. Bit, Lira, give him om- supper first, and let him go." l,ora bro'l a bowl of milk from live ta'iln to the fire, put in some h isty puJJing from a kettle in the comer, and uve to Fergus, who ate with great satisfaction, and then prepared to go. Mother Conny was au-' ious and agitated she called lor her pipe, put iu her tobacco out of a box which hf I- r tut mi,, rtti-h iflif ' I IOOK iruiu --' . - a into the corner for some hA ashes, where