At length, with no other object than a dreamy impulse to wander among the wild scenes in the vicinity, Glenn started up, and donning a warm overcoat and seizing his rifle, set out along the cliff up the river, (a direction which he had never yet traversed,) accompanied by Joe, who seemed to look upon his master’s pale composed face, and determined though gentle motions, with curiosity, if not mystery. “Why do you stare at me so often?” inquired Glenn, pausing, after they had walked some distance in silence. “Because I don’t know what you’re after,” replied Joe. “You’ll see what I’m after,” said Glenn, setting forward, and continuing his course along the cliff. A snow of several feet in depth rested on the earth, and the sun that shone forth at noon had melted the surface so frequently, that the freezing nights which had as often succeeded had formed an icy incrustation quite strong enough to bear the weight of a man. Though it was a dreary waste, yet Glenn gleaned a satisfaction in casting his eyes around where his glance beheld no one striving to oppress his fellow being that he might acquire riches and power, to be again snatched from his grasp by others, but a peaceful scene, fresh from the hand of God, and unmarred by the workmanship of meaner creatures. The broad river far below was covered with a massy plate of ice, and the snow that rested upon it gave it the appearance of an immense plain, rather than an incrusted surface of the most perturbed and erratic stream in the world. The geese and other fowl that wandered over the frozen surface in quest of their native element, from the great distance down, seemed to be no larger than sparrows.