PREFACE
BY THE WESTERN CHELA.
The winds of a cheerless winter day had whirled and twirled snow-wreaths through the air until the world seemed wrapped in fleecy clouds.
The space above and below man's feet was all white, all glistening with crystal flakes that multiplied themselves in endless forms and nestled on tha earth like a gossamer pall. It was winter, and winter in a climate inhospitable and bitter even in its best aspects; winter in the north, where the bleak blasts were far too many and the warmth of summer tarried not long. This day there seemed to have been united the disagreeableness of many snowstorms, and the leaden look of the early dawn had justified the predictions of the weather-wise that there was likelihood of a strong blow from the polar regions. It came duly, and thick and fast, the pretty down kissed the cold earth and sank out of sight in its absorbing embrace. At first this was the ease, but by-and-by the old mother, weary of a repetition of such visits, returned them no more, and the little messengers gathered together on her breast, closely packing themselves, until she was entirely hidden from view and there was no more of her brown self visible to man.
