1 3 o A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



and set my head for Temple, E.G., the shadowy 

 side of my life. 



It is the morning after the snow, and as bright 

 as yesterday it was dim. The two lost pack- 

 horses have been found, and already my redskin 

 and I are half-way up the bluff above the peat 

 bog. Looking down at our little gray tents 

 among the bare burnt pine-poles, we give an 

 involuntary shudder, and wonder how we ever 

 lived out yesterday's storm. Looking up, our 

 eyes are dazzled with the sun's laugh upon the 

 snow, with the glitter and the flashing of the 

 millions of diamonds on the great white cone 

 above us, up which we creep ever so slowly. 

 When we reach the top we see how local the 

 snowstorm has been. Round us all is white, but 

 away to the west, line upon line the blue ridges 

 run, without a flake of snow upon them. From 

 the nearest a great feather of mist floats out into 

 the clear sky, like the smoke from some mighty 

 fire. All else is clear and sharply outlined. On 

 the sunny side the ridge we feel there is no time 

 so good for man as a winter morning, but cross 

 the top and leave the sunlight, and you will see 

 Winter without his smile. The diamonds are all 

 dead, their lights gone out ; no colour glows in 

 the gray air ; Nature is without life-blood, cold, 

 bitter, unbeautiful. Even in the sun that day 



