I Pulled The Rag Carpet From The Floor And Covered Myself With
It, But Could Not Get Warm.
The sun rose gloriously on a
shrouded earth.
Barns, road, shrubs, fences, river, lake, all
lay under the glittering snow. It was light and powdery, and
sparkled like diamonds. Not a breath of wind stirred, there was
not a sound. I had to wait till a passing horseman had broken
the track, but soon after I set off into the new, shining world.
I soon lost the horseman's foot-marks, but kept on near the road
by means of the innumerable foot-prints of birds and ground
squirrels, which all went in one direction. After riding for an
hour I was obliged to get off and walk for another, for the snow
balled in Birdie's feet to such an extent that she could hardly
keep up even without my weight on her, and my pick was not strong
enough to remove it. Turning off the road to ask for a chisel, I
came upon the cabin of the people whose muff I had picked up a
few days before, and they received me very warmly, gave me a
tumbler of cream, and made some strong coffee. They were "old
Country folk," and I stayed too long with them. After leaving
them I rode twelve miles, but it was "bad traveling," from the
balling of the snow and the difficulty of finding the track.
There was a fearful loneliness about it. The track was
untrodden, and I saw neither man nor beast.
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