WINTER. 



147 



barn floor, now chinking soft on the broken sheaf, now loud and clear on 

 the sounding boards. Upon the roof above we see the cooing doves, 

 with nodding heads and necks gleaming with iridescent sheen. Turning, 

 in another corner we look upon a miscellaneous group of ploughs and 

 rakes and all the farm utensils, and harness hanging on the wooden pegs. 

 There, too, is the little sleigh we love so well. Could it but speak, how 

 sweet a story it could tell of lovely drives through romantic glens and 

 moonlit woods, of tender squeezes of the little hand beneath the covering 

 robe, of whispered vows, and of the encircling arm — a shelter from the 

 cold and cruel wind ! But no — I'll say no more : these are memories too 

 sacred for the common ear. And there's the carry-all sleigh just by its 

 side. How well you'll remember the merry loads it carried, its three 

 wide seats and space between packed full of jolly company ! How the 

 hard-pressed snow squeaked beneath the gliding runners, as with pran- 



11^^- *■■■-.- ' ^*:V .V 



THE MOONLIGHT RIDE. 



cine span and jingling bells you sped down through the village street, 

 with waving handkerchiefs and cheerful greetings right and left ! How 

 with "ducking" heads and muffled screams you ran the gauntlet past 

 the school-house mob ; saw them scrambling for " a hitch," and with tan- 



