to seek mixed wine.... At the last it biteth like a serpent, and
stingeth like an adder."--Prov. 23: 29-35.]


PART I.

All day the snow came silently to earth,
Until the branches of the apple trees
Bent lower than in autumn 'neath their weight
Of glossy fruit: the youthful pines that stood,
With leafless beech and maple interspersed,
To speak of summer when all else that laughed
In balmy air with summer should depart,
Were robed in white, save where some little twig
Of deepest verdure timidly looked forth,
Like gentle Spring reclining in the arms
Of stern old Winter. Silence reigned abroad;
There was no sun, no sky, but over all
A dense dark mist which hid the blue beyond.

The cottager had tarried long that day
Within the village inn, and night drew near
And found him at his glass; then rose the wind
And hurled the snow against the window pane.
"Come, father, come;" a little hand was laid
Upon the father's arm, and into his
A pair of pleading eyes looked gently up.
"Come, father, come; the wind begins to blow,
And mother waits and watches all alone."
He heeded not the warning; to the bar