The speckled sky is dim with snow,
The light flakes falter and fall slow;
Athwart the hilltop, rapt and pale,
Silently drops a silvery veil;
And all the valley is shut in

By flickering curtains gray and thin.

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But cheerily the chickadee
Singeth to me on fence and tree;
The snow sails round him as he sings,
White as the down of angels' wings.

I watch the slow flakes as they fall
On bank and brier and broken wall;
Over the orchard, waste and brown,
All noiselessly they settle down,
Tipping the apple boughs and each
Light quivering twig of plum and peach.

On turf and curb and bower roof
The snowstorm spreads its ivory woof;
It paves with pearl the garden walk;
And lovingly round tattered stalk
And shivering stem its magic weaves
A mantle fair as lily leaves.

The hooded beehive, small and low,
Stands like a maiden in the snow;
And the old door slab is half hid
Under an alabaster lid.

All day it snows: the sheeted post
Gleams in the dimness like a ghost;
All day the blasted oak has stood
A muffled wizard of the wood;
Garland and airy cap adorn

The sumach and the wayside thorn,
And clustering spangles lodge and shine
In the dark tresses of the pine.

The ragged bramble, dwarfed and old,
Shrinks like a beggar in the cold;
In surplice white the cedar stands,
And blesses him with priestly hands.

Still cheerily the chickadee
Singeth to me on fence and tree :

But in my inmost ear is heard
The music of a holier bird;

And heavenly thoughts as soft and white.
As snowflakes on my soul alight,
Clothing with love my lonely heart,
Healing with peace each bruised part,
Till all my being seems to be
Transfigured by their purity.

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THE DANCING DOGS

HECTOR MALOT

HECTOR MALOT (mä lỗ) (1830-1907) was a French author whose masterpiece, Sans Famille, has been called by contemporary critics "an incomparable romance."

NOTE. The little French boy who tells the story of Sans Famille, 5 from which this selection is taken, is the assistant of a traveling showman. Three dogs and a monkey, named Joli-Cœur, make up the company of players. Owing to the monkey's misbehavior, there has been some trouble with the police, and the showman has been arrested for protecting the boy from brutal treatment.

I came at last to the shore of the Southern Canal, and after traveling in the dust ever since I left Toulouse, I found myself in a fresh, green country, with water, trees, grass, and a little spring which trickled through the crevices of a rock carpeted with plants. It was charming. 15 Imperceptibly drowsiness stole over me and I fell asleep.

When I awoke the sun was high above my head and hours had gone by. But I did not need the sun to tell me that it was a long time since I had eaten my last bit of bread. The two dogs and Joli-Coeur, on their part, showed 20 that they were hungry,- Capi and Dolci by their piteous looks and Joli-Coeur by his grimaces. And Zerbino had not yet appeared. I called, I whistled, but in vain. He did not come. He was probably digesting his breakfast under some bush.

25 My situation was becoming critical. If I went on, he might get lost and not rejoin us; if I stayed where I was,

I should find no chance to earn a few pennies to buy food. And this same need of eating became more and more imperious. The eyes of the dogs were fastened on mine despairingly, and Joli-Coeur rubbed his stomach and uttered little angry cries.

What was I to do?

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Although Zerbino was guilty and through his fault we were placed in a terrible situation, I could not make up my mind to abandon him. What would my master say if I did not bring back his three dogs? And in spite of every- 10 thing I was very fond of that rascal, Zerbino.

I decided to wait until evening, but I could not remain idle. I must invent something which would keep all four of us busy and would distract our thoughts. If we could only forget that we were hungry, we should assuredly 15 suffer less. But what could we do?

While I was pondering on this question I recollected that my master had told me that in the army, when a regiment was fatigued by a long march, the soldiers would forget their weariness in listening to gay tunes played by 20 the band. If I should play a lively air, perhaps we might forget our hunger; at any rate, while we were kept busy with singing and dancing the time would pass more rapidly.

I took my harp, which was propped up against a tree, and, turning my back on the canal, I arranged my players 25 in position and began a waltz. At first my actors did not seem disposed to dance; plainly a piece of bread would