* * * * *
THE BOY FOUND IN THE SNOW.
One winter's night when the evening had shut in very early, owing to
the black snow clouds that hung close around the horizon, Martha sat
looking into the fire. Her old sheep dog, Fly, lay at her feet. The
cows were foddered for the night, and the sheep were penned up in the
yard. Fly was a faithful dog, and for some reason, this evening, he
was very restless. Why he pricked up his ears, and went snuffing to
the door, and pacing about the room, was more than Martha could tell.
"Lie down. Fly,--good dog--lie down," she said; but Fly would not mind
her, which was an unusual thing. She was certain something was the
matter, and she felt she must go up to the fell; and with the
foresight common to the Dale's people, who knew what mountain storms
are, she took under her cloak a small vial of gin, which was kept in
case of any accident, and set out with the dog Fly. The snow fell
fast, the wind blew, and the drifts lay thick. She had great
confidence in Fly, that if any thing was the matter he would find it
out.
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