“and it is more peculiarly the case in these mountains. The winter
seems to retreat to the fast nesses of the hills, as to the citadel of
its dominion, and is only expelled after a tedious siege, in which
either party, at times, would seem to be gaining the victory.”

“A very just and apposite figure, Judge Temple,” observed the sheriff;
“and the garrison under the command of Jack Frost make formidable
sorties—you understand what I mean by sorties, monsieur; sallies, in
English— and sometimes drive General Spring and his troops back again
into the low countries.”

“Yes sair,” returned the Frenchman, whose prominent eyes were watching
the precarious footsteps of the beast he rode, as it picked its
dangerous way among the roots of trees, holes, log bridges, and
sloughs that formed the aggregate of the highway. “Je vous entends;
de low countrie is freeze up for half de year.”

The error of Mr. Le Quoi was not noticed by the sheriff; and the rest
of the party were yielding to the influence of the changeful season,
which was already teaching the equestrians that a continuance of its
mildness was not to be expected for any length of time. Silence and
thoughtfulness succeeded the gayety and conversation that had
prevailed during the commencement of the ride, as clouds began to
gather about the heavens, apparently collecting from every quarter, in
quick motion, without the agency of a breath of air,

While riding over one of the cleared eminencies that occurred in their
route, the watchful eye of Judge Temple pointed out to his daughter
the approach of a tempest. Flurries of snow already obscured the
mountain that formed the northern boundary of the lake, and the genial