Burst from its canopy of cloud,

And lit the landscape with the blaze

Of afternoon on autumn days,

And filled the room with light, and made The fire of logs a painted shade.

A sudden wind from out the west
Blew all its trumpets loud and shrill;
The windows rattled with the blast,
The oak-trees shouted as it passed,
And straight, as if by fear possessed,
The cloud encampment on the hill
Broke up, and fluttering flag and tent
Vanished into the firmament,
And down the valley fled amain
The rear of the retreating rain.

Only far up in the blue sky

A mass of clouds, like drifted snow
Suffused with a faint Alpine glow,
Was heaped together, vast and high,
On which a shattered rainbow hung,
Not rising like the ruined arch
Of some aerial aqueduct,

But like a roseate garland plucked

From an Olympian god, and flung

Aside in his triumphal march.

Like prisoners from their dungeon gloom,
Like birds escaping from a snare,
Like school-boys at the hour of play,
All left at once the pent-up room,
And rushed into the open air;

And no more tales were told that day.

PART THIRD.

PRELUDE.

THE evening came; the golden vane
A moment in the sunset glanced,
Then darkened, and then gleamed again,
As from the east the moon advanced
And touched it with a softer light;
While underneath, with flowing mane,
Upon the sign the Red Horse pranced,
And galloped forth into the night.

But brighter than the afternoon
That followed the dark day of rain,
And brighter than the golden vane
That glistened in the rising moon,
Within the ruddy fire-light gleamed;
And every separate window-pane,

Backed by the outer darkness, showed
A mirror, where the flamelets gleamed
And flickered to and fro, and seemed
A bonfire lighted in the road.

Amid the hospitable glow,
Like an old actor on the stage,
With the uncertain voice of age,
The singing chimney chanted low
The homely songs of long ago.

THE THEOLOGIAN'S (SECOND) TALE.

ELIZABETH.

66

I.

"Aн, how short are the days! How soon the night over

takes us!

In the old country the twilight is longer; but here in the

forest

Suddenly comes the dark, with hardly a pause in its com

ing,

Hardly a moment between the two lights, the day and the lamplight;

Yet how grand is the winter! How spotless the snow is, and perfect!"

Thus spake Elizabeth Haddon at nightfall to Hannah the housemaid,

As in the farm-house kitchen, that served for kitchen and

parlor,

By the window she sat with her work, and looked on a

landscape

White as the great white sheet that Peter saw in his

vision,

By the four corners let down and descending out of the

heavens.

Covered with snow were the forests of pine, and the fields and the meadows.

Nothing was dark but the sky, and the distant Delaware flowing

Down from its native hills, a peaceful and bountiful river.

Then with a smile on her lips made answer Hannah the housemaid:

"Beautiful winter! yea, the winter is beautiful, surely, If one could only walk like a fly with one's feet on the

66

ceiling.

But the great Delaware River is not like the Thames, as we saw it

Out of our upper windows in Rotherhithe Street in the Borough,

Crowded with masts and sails of vessels coming and going; Here there is nothing but pines, with patches of snow on

their branches.

There is snow in the air, and see! it is falling already; All the roads will be blocked, and I pity Joseph to-mor

row,

Breaking his way through the drifts, with his sled and oxen; and then, too,

How in all the world shall we get to Meeting on FirstDay?"

But Elizabeth checked her, and answered, mildly re

proving:

Surely the Lord will provide; for unto the snow he

sayeth,

Be thou on the earth, the good Lord sayeth; he is it Giveth snow like wool, like ashes scatters the hoar-frost." So she folded her work and laid it away in her basket.

Meanwhile Hannah the housemaid had closed and fastened the shutters,

Spread the cloth, and lighted the lamp on the table, and placed there

Plates and cups from the dresser, the brown rye loaf, and the butter

Fresh from the dairy, and then, protecting her hand with a holder,

Took from the crane in the chimney the steaming and simmering kettle,

Poised it aloft in the air, and filled up the earthen tea

pot,

Made in Delft, and adorned with quaint and wonderful

figures.

Then Elizabeth said, "Lo!

errand.

Joseph is long on his

I have sent him away with a hamper of food and of

clothing

For the poor in the village. A good lad and cheerful

is Joseph;

In the right place is his heart, and his hand is ready and willing."

Thus in praise of her servant she spake, and Hannah the housemaid

Laughed with her eyes, as she listened, but governed her tongue, and was silent,

While her mistress went on: "The house is far from

the village:

We should be lonely here, were it not for Friends that

in passing

Sometimes tarry o'ernight, and make us glad by their coming."

Thereupon answered Hannah the housemaid, the thrifty,

the frugal: