56 HOMES WITHOUT HANDS. 



finds that the caloric exhaled from his body is no longer swept 

 off by the wind, but is conserved around him, and restores 

 warmth and sensation to his limbs. The hollow enlarges slight- 

 ly as the body becomes warm, and allocs its temporary inhabit- 

 ant to sink deeper into the snow, while the fast falling flakes rap- 

 idly cover him, and obliterate the traces of his presence. 



There is no fear that he should be stifled for want of air, for 

 the warmth of his breath always keeps a small passage open, 

 and the snow, instead of becoming a thick uniform sheet of white 

 substance, is broken by a little hole round which is collected a 

 mass of glittering hoar-frost, caused by the congelation of the 

 breath. There is no fear now of perishing by frost, for the 

 snow -cell is rather too hot than too cold, and the traveler can 

 sleep as warmly, if not as composedly, as in his bed at home. 



The reader may possibly remember that, even in the British 

 Islands, the snow -bed is almost annually brought into requisi- 

 tion. 



The use of snow as a warm mantle to protect the young crops 

 from the frost is familiar to all. Some of us have seen, and we 

 have nearly all read of, the wonderful scenes that take place 

 among the Scottish mountains, where the snow-drifts are heaped 

 like white hills by the wayward tempest, taking all kinds of fan- 

 tastic forms, and scooped into bays, and precipices, and- craggy 

 mountains, with outlines as bold and sharp as if cut in unyield- 

 ing granite. After such storms as raise these strange mockeries 

 of rugged landscape, whole flocks of sheep are missing, and must 

 be sought by the shepherd and his faithful dog. 



As the two allies press onward in their quest, they walk at 

 random, for the snow masses have swept over hill and dale, have 

 obliterated all the well-known landmarks, raised hills where hoi-' 

 lows had been, and have changed the face of nature. Left to 

 himself the shepherd would scarcely discover a single sheep and 

 in all probability would find himself in the very predicament 

 from which he seeks to rescue his woolly charge. Were it not 

 for the fine instincts of the quadruped many a flock would be 

 l*st, for the dog sniffs and runs about, and raises his nose in the 

 air as the well-known odor salutes his nostrils, and finally dashes 

 forward and comes to a stand-still over a little hole in the snow 

 around which is gathered a slight incrustation of hoarfrost. This 

 is a sure indication that the sheep are below and still living and 

 then the shepherd breaks through the roof of the snowy cell with 



