- Though Resign'd To Heaven's High Will,
My Joy Shall Be To Love Thee Still!
CHAPTER X
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
"O'er memory's glass I see his shadow flit,
Though he was gathered to the silent dust
Long years ago. A strange and wayward man,
That shunn'd companionship, and lived apart;
The leafy covert of the dark brown woods,
The gleamy lakes, hid in their gloomy depths,
Whose still, deep waters never knew the stroke
Of cleaving oar, or echoed to the sound
Of social life, contained for him the sum
Of human happiness. With dog and gun,
Day after day he track'd the nimble deer
Through all the tangled mazes of the forest."
It was early day. I was alone in the old shanty, preparing
breakfast, and now and then stirring the cradle with my foot, when
a tall, thin, middle-aged man walked into the house, followed by two
large, strong dogs.
Placing the rifle he had carried on his shoulder, in a corner of the
room, he advanced to the hearth, and without speaking, or seemingly
looking at me, lighted his pipe and commenced smoking. The dogs,
after growling and snapping at the cat, who had not given the
strangers a very courteous reception, sat down on the hearth-stone
on either side of their taciturn master, eyeing him from time to
time, as if long habit had made them understand all his motions.
There was a great contrast between the dogs. The one was a brindled
bulldog of the largest size, a most formidable and powerful brute;
the other a staghound, tawny, deep-chested, and strong-limbed.
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