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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish"




Chapter XVI.

"What are these,
So withered, and so wild in their attire;
That look not like the inhabitants of earth,
And yet are on't?"
Macbeth.

That sternness of the season, which has already been mentioned in these
pages, is never of long continuance in the month of April. A change in the
wind had been noted by the hunters, even before they retired from their
range among the hills; and though too seriously occupied to pay close
attention to the progress of the thaw, more than one of the young men had
found occasion to remark, that the final breaking up of the winter had
arrived. Long ere the scene of the preceding chapter reached its height,
the southern winds had mingled with the heat of the conflagration. Warm
airs, that had been following the course of the Gulf Stream, were driven
to the land, and, sweeping over the narrow island that at this point forms
the advanced work of the continent, but a few short hours had passed
before they destroyed every chilling remnant of the dominion of winter.


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