I.   A fluttering bevy left the gate  With hurried steps, and sped away;  And then a coach with drooping freight,  Wrapped in its film of dusty gray,  Stopped; and the pastor and his mate   Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door,  And closed it on the gazing street.  "Oh Philip!" She could say no more.  "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my... more...

PICTURE.   Winter's wild birthnight! In the fretful East  The uneasy wind moans with its sense of cold,  And sends its sighs through gloomy mountain gorge,  Along the valley, up the whitening hill,  To tease the sighing spirits of the pines,  And waste in dismal woods their chilly life.  The sky is dark, and on the huddled leaves—  The restless, rustling... more...