The Silver Maple
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By Mary Esther MacGregor 16 Nov, 2020
The storm was over, the snow had ceased falling, and under its muffling mantle, white and spent with the day's struggle, lay the great swamp of the Oro. It seemed to hold in its motionless bosom the very spirit of silence and death. The delicately tr ... Read more
The storm was over, the snow had ceased falling, and under its muffling mantle, white and spent with the day's struggle, lay the great swamp of the Oro. It seemed to hold in its motionless bosom the very spirit of silence and death. The delicately traced pattern of a rabbit or weasel track, and a narrow human pathway that wound tortuously into the sepulchral depths, were the only signs of life in all the white stillness. Away down the dim, cathedral-like aisles, that fainted into softest grey in the distance, the crackling of an overburdened twig rang startlingly clear in the awesome hush. The tall firs and pines swept the white earth with their snow-laden branches, the drooping limbs looking like throngs of cowled heads, bent to worship in the sacred stillness of a vast temple. For the forest was, indeed, a place in which to wonder and to pray, a place all white and holy, filled with the mystery and awe of death. Less
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  • 229.641 KB
  • 357
  • Public Domain Book
  • English
  • 978-1499183078
Mary Esther Miller MacGregor, (August 27, 1872 – February 10, 1961) also known as Marian Keith, was a Canadian author of fiction. MacGregor was born in Rugby, Ontario in 1872. Her parents were Jo...
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