The Winter Night. 



297 



its sheltering purity ! There is nothing more deliciously 

 restful, soft, and white. This snowless ice-plain is like 

 a life without love nothing to sofcen it. The marks of 

 all the battles and pressures of the ice stand forth just 

 as when they were made, rugged and difficult to move 





*mKw 



SSKtffcM' 



. 



l$k- Ji. 



By H. Egidius~\ 



A NOCTURNAL VISITANT. \.f>-o,,t a Photograph. 



among. Love is life's snow. It falls deepest and 

 softest into the gashes left by the fight whiter and 

 purer than snow itself. What is life without love? It 

 is like this ice a cold, bare, rugged mass, the wind 

 driving it and rending it and then forcing it together 



