with a laugh, "flashes through the leaves like a mirror in the sun."

"I will not have him ridiculed," replied Mary. "Let us go and meet the good, dear old man."

CHAPTER XI.

"An envious sneaping frost,

That bites the first-born infants of the spring.".

IN a thick shower the flakes of snow fell whirling to the ground, wrapping in a bleached mantle the naked boughs of the trees, and burying the ground in one sheet of winter's garb. A stinging wind swept humming through the thorn, and nipped the leaves of the hardy laurel and ivy, until they drooped and curled in his hostile pinch. Chilly birds stood balancing themselves first on one leg and then on the other, chirruping disconsolately in doleful cadence.

It was cold, very cold, and all external

things, both animate and inanimate, gave unequivocal signs of their cheerless condition.

With a badger's-skin cap drawn over his ears, some hay-bands twined round his legs and feet, and a sack thrown over his shoulders, Mike stood pelting diminutive snow-balls at the window of John Hardy's dormitory.

John had just woke from one of those blissful dreams in which his imagination led him to believe, for the nonce, that he and his friend Harry Lawrence, were two fat, chubby boys again, and they were now once more playing marbles, bowling hoops, and flying kites together. It can scarcely be alleged, in strictness, that John felt disappointed to find, at cockcrow, he was not the plethoric child represented in the vagaries of his dream; but still there was a feeling something akin to a miscarriage of hope.

"Dear me!" exclaimed John, becoming conscious of some unusual sounds at his window. "What can be patting so at the glass?

Perhaps," continued he, raising himself on an elbow, "it's that bob-tailed cock robin."

Another, and another, of the snow-balls, came in quick succession against the panes.

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"Gracious!" ejaculated John. It's somebody throwing at the window. Who can it be?" and with this query he stepped out of his warm bed, and hastened forwards to discover the cause of his disturbance.

On peering through the frosted windows Mike's form was visible; but as a preliminary to throwing up the sash for the purpose of learning the nature of his errand, John muffled himself in a variety of raiment, and when he ventured to brave the cold, his figure bore a striking resemblance to an Egyptian mummy, with the upper division of the face exposed.

"Your pardon, Sir, for disturbing ye," said the earth-stopper, respectfully touching the front of his cap. "But there's a capital walk of snipes in the dyke moor, this morning, and a flock of teal in the dam of the old mill."

John Hardy's teeth chattered as he gave a reflective look at his informant.

"You know, Mike," replied his patron, "that I never did, and never shall, bring one of those extremely quick-flying birds down. "I really believe," continued John, emphatically, "that I might as well shoot at the moon as a snipe."

"I thought, Sir, you would like to try your luck," rejoined Mike, " and so I came to let ye know."

"You're very obliging," returned John Hardy; "but as there's no probability of my getting a sitting shot, it's no use of my going alone."

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Very true, Sir," added Mike.

"The way will be," resumed John, as if weighing a matter of deep import. " to make a little party after breakfast, and join in a general attack."

Mike thought this plan unobjectionable, and expressed himself to that effect.