believe, the author ever wrote--that fits well the distended pupil of
the mind's eye about the camp-fire at night. It was printed many years
ago in the "Atlantic Monthly," and is called "The Walker of the Snow;"
it begins thus:--

"'Speed on, speed on, good master;
The camp lies far away;
We must cross the haunted valley
Before the close of day.'''

"That has a Canadian sound," said Aaron; "give us more of it."

"'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.'

And so on. The intent seems to be to personify the fearful cold that
overtakes and benumbs the traveler in the great Canadian forests in
winter. This stanza brings out the silence or desolation of the scene
very effectively,--a scene without sound or motion:--

"'Save the wailing of the moose-bird
With a plaintive note and low;
And the skating of the red leaf
Upon the frozen snow.'

"The rest of the poem runs thus:--

"'And said I, Though dark is falling,