The Wildness of the Home

The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to a say-another trial, when a young man without coat and shouldering a pitchfork appeared in the yard behind. He held me to follow him, and after marching through a wash-house and a paved area containing a cold-shed pump and pigeon-caught, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of cold peat and wood, and near the table laid for a plentiful evening meal,. I was pleased to observe the misses, an individual whose existence I had never previously suspected. She looked