. . .The greater the raging of the storm, the happier the young enthusiast felt herself. Amid the wildest gusts of wind and rain she hurried into the forests, and neither snow nor thunder growling overhead could stop her. In the house the world seemed too narrow for her, and she longed for the freedom of nature. Three magnificent St. Bernard dogs sprang41 romping and bounding after her; foremost of all Mentor, the favourite. When the storm broke mighty branches from the trees and drove the dry leaves whirling before her the young Princess was joyous, roaming through the pathless forests and listening to the howling and whistling of the wind and the creaking of the branches.

STORM IN THE FOREST.

There roars from the forest
A symphony wild;
The wind drives before it
The tempest-clouds piled.
With a crash the stems sunder,
The tossing trees moan;
The wind and the thunder
Hold revel alone;
’Tis a jo. . . Read More