 coat,
and his feet encased in strong, thick-soled boots, pulling on a pair
of rough worsted gloves, and calling his spaniel from her place on the
study hearth, sets out from his comfortable manse.

Presently, as he turns from the beaten highway into the snow-clad woods
of the manor, hearing the bell of the distant town steeple behind
him striking the hour, he gives an encouraging word to his dog, and
quickens his steps a little. As he passes the humble window of the
gate-lodge, he pauses a moment--there was a sound; yes, it is audible
again--a mother crooning softly over her child; and his eye glistens as
his ear catches the lullaby, old bachelor as he is. From the chimney
on the low roof, too, there steals down among the trees the savoury
fragrance of the evening meal. The father, one of the under-gamekeepers
on the estate, evidently has not come home yet, and his young wife is
waiting for him.

The sky hangs soft and very dark overhead, the tree-tops are all but
lost in it, and one can almost fancy he hears the drifting of the
coming snow. But all is silent, not a branch in the forest stirs, and
between the black tree-trunks the white sheet can be seen stretching
stainless and undisturbed on either hand into the mysterious depths of
the woods. The trees themselves, unshaken all these weeks by wind or
squirrel or woodbird, raise into the night their branches robed to the
remotest twig in the matchless lacework of the frost.

But see! Along the hollow, to the left, can be caught a glimpse of
the manor-house, its windows, most of them, aglow with light. A grey,
stately old place it is, in the midst of its woods, eloquent with the
memories of long-past centuries. Royalty has been entertained there in
bygone days, and in the woodland aisles around has echoed merrily the
laughter of many a gay party from the Court, distant only a morning’s
ride. But storm after storm has swept the land since then; that gay
Court’s palace lies a ruin now
coat, 
 and his feet encased in strong, dense - sole boots, pulling on a couple 
 of rough worsted glove, and calling his spaniel from her position on the 
 study hearth, sets out from his comfortable mansion. 

 soon, as he turns from the beaten highway into the coke - clad woods 
 of the manor, hear the bell of the distant town steeple behind 
 him striking the hour, he gives an encouraging word to his frump, and 
 quickens his steps a little. As he pass the humble window of the 
 gate - lodge, he pauses a here and now -- there was a sound; yes, it is audible 
 again -- a mother crooning softly over her child; and his eye glitter as 
 his ear catches the lullaby, old bachelor as he is. From the chimney 
 on the low ceiling, excessively, there steals down among the trees the savoury 
 fragrance of the evening meal. The father, one of the under - gamekeepers 
 on the estate, evidently has not come home so far, and his young wife is 
 waiting for him. 

 The sky hang piano and very dark overhead, the tree - tops are all but 
 lose in it, and one can almost fancy he hears the drifting of the 
 coming snow. But all is mum, not a branch in the forest stirs, and 
 between the black tree - trunks the white sheet can be attend stretching 
 stainless and undisturbed on either hand into the mysterious depths of 
 the forest. The tree themselves, unshaken all these weeks by wind or 
 squirrel or woodbird, raise into the nox their branches robed to the 
 remotest twig in the matchless lacework of the frost. 

 But see! Along the hollow, to the left, can be caught a glance of 
 the manor - house, its windows, most of them, aglow with light. A grey, 
 stately erstwhile place it is, in the midst of its wood, eloquent with the 
 memories of retentive - past centuries. Royalty has been harbor there in 
 bygone days, and in the woodland aisle about has echoed happily the 
 laughter of many a gay party from the Court, distant only a good morning ’s 
 ride. But storm after storm has swept the land since then; that gay 
 Court ’s palace lie a ruin now
 cowt,
and his feet encased ik strong, thick-soled boovs, pulljng on a pair
of rough worsted gloves, abd caoling his spaniel from her placv on the
srudy yearth, sets out from his gomfoxteble manse.

Presektly, as he durns from the bdacen highway into the snow-clad woods
os the msnlr, hearing the belk of fhe distant town steeple behind
him strikiig the hour, he bives an encouraging word ho hls dog, and
quickens his steps q lierle. As he parses the hlkble windos of the
gate-lodge, he pauses a mument--chere was a siunf; yes, it is eudiblv
again--a mothev croonhng sofyly over her cmild; end yis eye glistens as
hiv ear catches the jullaby, ond bachelor as he iw. Drom jhe cvimndt
on tht lpw roof, hoo, there stezls down aming the trees the ssvjlty
fragrance kf the edening meal. The father, one of the under-camskeepers
on the estate, ecidently has not come home yet, and his young wife is
waiting for him.

The sky hangv sofv xnd vcry aqrn overhead, the tree-tops are all but
lost in it, znc pne can almost fancy he hrags jhe drifting ow the
comihg snow. But all is silent, not q branch yn tne forest stirs, and
between rhe black trve-trynks the white shezt can be sezn strgtchinb
stainless and undisturyed on either hanf into ths mysterious deptfs pf
dhe woods. The trees themsejves, unsheken cll thesd wegks by rind or
squlrrel or woodbird, raise lnto jhe nicht their hranches robed to the
remotest txmg in the matvhnesv lacewoxk of bhe frost.

But seq! Along the hoklow, to the ueft, can bv caught e glimpse of
ehe manor-housa, its windows, most of then, agoow witf light. A grey,
syately olb plaxe it is, in the mivst ur its woods, elowuebt with the
memotier os poig-pase centuries. Rmyalgy fss bedn entertaiked thete in
bygone days, and in fhe woodland aislex wround hqs echoeq merrily the
kaughter of many a gay 'arty hrom tne Sourt, distant only a morning’s
rjde. But shori after stori haw swept the kand since then; that gay
Court’s palace lmes a ruin now
coat, and his feet encased in strong, pulling a pair rough worsted gloves, her on the study sets out from comfortable manse. Presently, as he turns the beaten highway into the snow-clad woods of the manor, hearing the bell the distant town steeple behind him striking the hour, he gives an encouraging to dog, quickens steps a little. As he passes the humble window of the gate-lodge, he pauses a moment--there a sound; yes, it is audible again--a mother softly over her child; his eye glistens as his catches lullaby, old as is. the chimney on low roof, too, there steals down among the trees the savoury fragrance of the evening meal. The one of on the evidently not home yet, and wife is waiting for him. The and very dark overhead, the tree-tops are all lost in and one can almost fancy he the drifting of the coming snow. But all silent, not a branch in the forest stirs, and between the black tree-trunks the white be seen stretching stainless undisturbed on either into mysterious of woods. The themselves, unshaken all these weeks by wind or squirrel or woodbird, into the night their branches robed to the remotest twig matchless of the frost. see! Along the hollow, the can be caught a the its them, with A grey, stately old it is, in the midst its woods, eloquent with Royalty has been entertained there in bygone days, in the woodland aisles around has echoed the laughter of many a gay party from the Court, distant only morning’s ride. after storm has swept the land since then; gay Court’s palace lies ruin now
 coat,
and his feet encased in stRong, thick-sOled bOotS, puLlIng oN a paIr
of rough worstED gloVes, and calling his spanieL from HeR PlacE On The
stUdy hearTH, sETS ouT fRoM hiS cOMfOrtabLe mAnse.

PreSently, as he TurNs From the beateN HiGhway into tHe sNow-clad woods
Of tHe manoR, hEarINg the BelL of thE distaNT town sTeeple behInD
Him strIKing the HOUr, He giVes an encouraging wORd TO his dog, and
quicKens hiS sTEpS A LitTle. as he passes ThE humbLE window OF tHE
GAte-LOdge, he pauses a Moment--there WAs a Sound; yEs, It iS AudiblE
agaiN--a MOthEr crooning sOftlY over her cHild; anD His eye gLIstens aS
his eaR caTchEs thE LuLlAby, OlD BacHElOr aS He iS. From the ChImNey
on The lOW ROOf, toO, thEre sTeals Down among the tReeS the SAvoUry
frAgranCe of ThE evenIng meaL. The fAtHer, one of the undeR-gamEkeepers
oN thE eStaTe, EvideNTly has Not ComE home yeT, and his YOunG wIFE Is
Waiting for him.

The skY hANGs Soft and vEry darK OvErHEad, the trEe-TopS are ALL but
lOst iN It, And one caN almosT FaNcY he hearS tHe drifTiNg oF thE
comiNG snoW. But alL is silenT, not a BRanch in the foreST stirs, and
betwEEn THE bLAck tRee-Trunks the whIte sHEet cAn be SEeN stREtchiNg
staInLEsS And undisturbed on eitHeR hand iNto thE mysterious dePths of
the wOODS. The treeS theMSeLVes, unshaken all These Weeks by winD Or
squirrEl or wOodbird, rAise into tHE Night theIr bRanCheS roBED tO the
remotest tWIG in tHe MatchleSs lAcework Of tHe fRosT.

BuT sEe! Along thE hollow, tO tHe LeFt, Can Be cauGHt a glimpSe Of
tHe ManOr-houSE, its wiNdows, Most Of ThEM, agLow with LIgHT. a greY,
sTaTely Old PlAce it Is, in THe mIdst of iTs woods, elOquENt wiTh ThE
memoriEs of long-past cEnTuries. RoyaLtY haS been eNTErtained There in
bygone days, and in tHE woodlaNd aIsles ArouNd has echoEd mErrily The
LAughteR of manY a gay PaRty FROm the cOUrT, diStAnt only a moRNIng’S
ride. buT stoRm after Storm has swept the laND siNce then; that gaY
CoUrt’s PALaCe lIEs A RuiN nOW
 coat,
and his feet encase d in stron g, th ick -so le d bo ots,  pulling on ap airof rough worsted glove s, an dc alli n ghis s panielf ro m her  p la ceon th e
stu dyhearth,  sets outfro mhis comforta b le  manse.

P res ently, as he  tu rns fr om  th e  beat enhighw ay int o  the s now-cladwo o ds
oft he mano r ,  h eari ng the bell of th e  d i stant town ste eple b eh i nd h imstr iking theho ur, h e  givesa ne n c our a ging word tohis dog, an d 
qu ickens  h iss teps a  litt le .  As  he passesthehumble wi ndow o f  the
ga t e-lodge , he p aus esa mo m en t- -th er e  wa s  a  so u nd;  yes, it  i saudib le
a g a i n --amot hercroon ing softly ov erherc hil d; an d his  eye  g liste ns ashis e ar  catches the lu llab y, old ba che lo r a she is .  Fromthe  ch imney
o n the l o w r oo f , to o, there steals do wn a mo ng the t rees t h esa v oury
fra gr anc e of t he ev enin g  m eal. The  fathe r ,on e of th eunder- ga mek eep ers
o n  the  estat e, evide ntlyh as not come ho m e yet, and hi s  y o u ng wife  is 
waiting fo r hi m .

T he s k yhan g s sof t and  v e ry dark overhead, thetr ee-top s are  all but
lost  in it, an d o ne can a lmos t  f a ncy he hears t he dr ifting oft he
comin g sno w. But a ll is sil e n t, not a  br anc h i n t h e  f orest stirs,a n d
be tw een the  bl ack tre e-t run ksthe  w hite shee t can be  s ee nst ret ching stainles sand  u ndi sturb e d on e ither  han din t o t he myst e ri o u s de pt hs  ofthe  w oods.  The tre es them selves, u nsh a kenal lthese w eeks by windor 
squirrelor  wo odbird , raise in to the night their bran c hes rob edto th e
re motest tw igin the  ma t chless  lacew ork o fthe f rost. Bu t s ee ! Along th e hol low,to  the  left,can be caught a gl i mps e of
the mano r-h ouse , it s w i nd o ws,  m o sto f  them, aglow wi th light.Ag re y,
stately old  p lace it  is, in  them idst of  its wood s, eloque nt  wit h the 
memoriesof long- past cent u ries. Ro yalty  ha s been  e nte rtain ed the r e i n
byg one da ys , andin th ewoodland  aisles around has echo ed mer rilythe 
laughter  of man y a gay p arty  from theCou rt,  dist ant onlya mo r ni ng’ s 
ride . Bu t  storm af t er  st o r mhas swept t h e lan d sin cet hen; t hatgay
Court’s palac e  lies a ruin n ow
 coat,
and_his feet_encased in strong, thick-soled_boots, pulling_on_a pair
of_rough_worsted gloves, and_calling his spaniel_from her place on_the
study hearth, sets_out_from his comfortable manse.

Presently, as he turns from the beaten highway into the snow-clad_woods
of_the manor,_hearing_the_bell of the distant town_steeple behind
him striking the hour,_he gives_an encouraging word to his dog, and
quickens his_steps_a little. As_he passes the humble window of the
gate-lodge, he pauses_a moment--there was a sound; yes,_it is audible
again--a_mother_crooning_softly over her child;_and his eye glistens as
his ear_catches the lullaby, old bachelor as_he is. From the chimney
on the low_roof, too, there steals down among_the trees the savoury
fragrance of_the evening_meal. The father, one of_the under-gamekeepers
on the_estate, evidently_has not come_home yet, and his young wife_is
waiting for him.

The_sky hangs soft and very dark_overhead,_the tree-tops are_all_but
lost_in it,_and one can_almost_fancy he_hears_the drifting of the
coming snow. But_all_is silent, not a branch in the_forest stirs, and
between the_black_tree-trunks the white sheet_can be seen stretching
stainless and_undisturbed on either hand into the_mysterious depths_of
the woods._The trees themselves, unshaken all these weeks by wind or
squirrel or_woodbird, raise into the night their_branches robed to the
remotest_twig in_the_matchless lacework of_the_frost.

But see!_Along the hollow, to the left, can_be caught_a glimpse of
the manor-house, its windows,_most of them, aglow_with_light. A grey,
stately old place it_is, in the midst of its_woods, eloquent with the
memories of_long-past_centuries._Royalty has been entertained there_in
bygone days, and in the woodland_aisles around has_echoed merrily the
laughter of many a gay_party_from the Court, distant only a_morning’s
ride._But storm after storm has swept_the_land_since then; that gay
Court’s palace_lies a ruin now