be confessed, with stories which he at least half believed of witchcraft and apparitions. My mother, who was born in the Indianhaunted region of Somersworth, New Hampshire, between Dover and Portsmouth, told us of the inroads of the savages, and the narrow escape of her ancestors."

Before we try to read the story, let us know something of those who were snow-bound."

First, as Whittier tells us, there was the boy's father, John Whittier, a fine, stern old Quaker.

There was Whittier's good mother, a born story-teller, who remembered many tales of Indian raids against her ancestors in New Hampshire.

There was Whittier's uncle, Moses, a simple-minded man without education, but full of good stories of hunting and fishing.

There was the poet's aunt, a quiet, gentle, kindly woman. There were his elder sister Martha, a very noble woman, and his beloved younger sister Elizabeth; also his brother Matthew, who outlived all the rest of the family except the poet himself.

There were two other persons "snow-bound" in the Whittier home, the teacher of the neighborhood school, a young college student named George Haskell, and a Miss Harriet Livermore, but they will not concern the story as you will read it here.

Now look at the picture on page 90, and try to think of a darkening gray sky and the beginning of the great snowstorm. Then turn to Part I and read it over silently, slowly, and carefully, trying hard to see all the wonderful pictures which the poem gives of,

1. The signs that foretold the coming of the storm.

2. The doing of the "chores."

a. The bringing in of the wood.

b. The feeding of the farm animals.

3. The beginning of the great snowstorm.

Read slowly, giving yourself time to hear the wood rattling as it falls into the great woodbox. Hear the whinnying of the

92

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

horses, and the clashing of the horns of the cattle, as the animals waited impatiently to be fed. See and hear the ol as he scolded from his perch. Then see the whirling snow, the growing darkness, and the world turned white

snow.

Then think of yourself as waking in the morning and fin storm continuing, and see each object outside so strangely by its covering of snow.

Try to think of the snow falling all day. Then of the tions for the second night of the storm.

See the preparations for the evening fire in the great w place. See the fire blaze up,

"Until the old, rude-furnished room

Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom."

And see the reflection of the fire through the window on th drifts outside.

Then around the fireplace, see the family "snow-boun safe from the roaring storm without, while the great fire and,

"The great throat of the chimney laughed.”

The family and the guests are safe and comfortable ins house in spite of the storm raging outside. They will joyous evening telling stories, eating apples, and crackin eating nuts.

"What matter how the night behaved?

What matter how the north-wind raved?
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow

Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow."

When you have read Part I over carefully and slowly to s wonderful pictures, go over it again, and this time you will b

to see the pictures more clearly and you will enjoy them

બાપા મમાં

as the hu

he old ro ling flakes

white by

d finding gely char

the prepe

at wide fr

the sno

und,"

Tre roare

nside the have

ing an

See the

De able

more

and more. Try to think that they make a moving picture, which you are seeing on the screen of your mind.

At a moving picture show, have you not often wished that you knew the meanings of all the words in the "sub-titles," or printed parts of the picture, because they would have helped you so much to understand and enjoy the picture? Now the meanings of the words that you do not know are the same as the "sub-titles." If you do not know them before you begin to read, you miss many of the "pictures" in the story, or poem.

So, before reading all these lines, you will find it helpful to learn the meanings of certain words, or else you will miss some fine pictures. Here they are:

ominous prophecy (prof'e-si): | Pisa's (pē'sä) leaning miracle: a foretelling of a bad storm. a tower at Pisa, Italy, which portent (pôr'těnt): something leans from the usual straight

that warns of possible danger.

littered the stalls: scattered
straw under the cattle and
horses for their beds.
stanchion rows: devices for
fastening cattle in their stalls.
querulous challenge (kwer'oo-
lus): a questioning, some-
what ill-tempered challenge.
(Do these words well describe
the cock's challenge?)
firmament: the sky.

sty: a pen or shed where hogs
are kept.

bridle-post: a hitching post.
high cocked hat: a hat the brim.
of which is turned up to the
crown on three sides.

up-and-down line.

backstick and forestick: good-
sized logs placed at the back
and the front of a fireplace to
hold in the smaller wood
placed between them.
clean-winged hearth (härth): In
Whittier's time, the wing of a
turkey was used to brush into
the fireplace any ashes on the
hearth.

tropic heat: heat like that of the
countries under the equator,
or in the "tropics.
roaring draught (dräft): the
loud rush of heated air and
flame up the great chimney.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

SNOW-BOUND

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,

Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,

The coming of the snow-storm told.`

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.
Unwarmed by any sunset light

The gray day darkened into night,

SNOW-BOUND

A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag wavering to and fro

Crossed and recrossed the wingéd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below,
A universe of sky and snow!
The old familiar sights of ours

Took marvelous shapes; strange domes and towers
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,

Or garden-wall or belt of wood;

A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
A fenceless drift what once was road;

The bridle-post an old man sat

With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof,
In its slant splendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa's leaning miracle.