100 PERILS OF THE HUNTERS.

 

his musket. How terrible is the
thought, that many persons in that
cold country, as well as among the Alps,
in Europe, get benumbed with the cold,
sink down in the snow, and never rise
again.

When I was a little boy, and first
came across those lines written by the
poet Thomson, on a man who perished
in the snow, I remember, as the wind
was howling around the house, and
blowing the snow into huge drifts, I
used to lie awake, thinking about the
poor man, and his wife and children,
who were waiting for him at home.