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A STRANGE CHARACTER.
(From Personal Remembrances.)
I.
“Is there a station near here, my fellow?”
“Well, it is doubtful if we shall arrive before the snow-drift; just look, what a cloud of dust is driving up from the north.”
“True! how can we arrive before the storm?”
Towards evening it begins to get cooler. One hears how the snow creaks under the runners: the cold becomes more intense, the north wind roars more lustily in the dark forest, and the branches of the fir-trees are spreading out towards the forest-path, swinging heavily at the fall of dusk. It is cold and uncomfortable. This small closed carriage is too narrow,
