90 The Home of tJic Wolverene and Beaver. 



different scene presented itself. The leaves were 

 whirling niadly in the air, borne aloft by a blast that 

 shook old Osnaburg House to its foundations, and 

 churned the usually placid lake into a yeast of 

 angry white ; the little islands that the preceding 

 night had looked so beautiful as the setting sun 

 threw into relief their varied hues, were now little 

 black spots half buried in the flying scud ; the 

 gloomy pines creaked and moaned dismally as the 

 blast swayed them to and fro, the aspect of the 

 country was changed as by the touch of an enchan- 

 ter's wand. But the storm speedily subsided, and 

 down came the snow, in little granules at first, but 

 presently in broad, crisp flakes, that in two hours 

 flung a white mantle over the whole country. Down 

 it came noiselessly but ceaselessly, for hour after 

 hour, for day after day, until a week had run its 

 course, then the leaden sky broke into rifts through 

 which the bright sun smiled cheerily, the discom- 

 forted snow clouds fled away and vanished in the 

 distance, the pure blue canopy appeared illimitable 

 in its serene tranquillity, and the bright stars shone 

 radiant through the frosty air, seeming so close that 

 the beholder felt impelled to stretch out his hands 

 and grasp them. The winter had set in ; the hard, 

 rigorous, unyielding cold of Canada, so different tc 

 the changeable climate and the noxious east winds of 



