The Indianapolis Journal

The Stricken Monarch

The ragged firs, knee-deep in snow
Stand shivering by the frozen lake;
In eddying gusts, that, moaning low,
Their mists of icy crystal shake
On drift-hid stream and thoroughfare,
And strew them in the wild beasts' lair
And down the gorge and through the brake.
And here the monarch of the wood
With drooping antlers, piercing eye.
That tell of fear and want of food,
Hides where no living thing is nigh;
For in this deeply-drifted snow
The proud beast can no farther go,
And he must rest or he must die.
But hark! his quick ears catch the sound
The striding hunter's snow shoe makes.
He springs, but with each mighty bound
The treacherous crust beneath him breaks;
And plunging in his icy bath,
He rages with despair and wrath,
His moist breath flying in frozen flakes.
He yields at length and lower and lower,
Sinks in his white torn shroud to die.
Till from that stealthy tread once more
His startled muscles strive to fly
But only quiver to the blow,
The murderer's coward thrust, and low:
For joy some hungry half-breeds cry.
-B. S. Parker,

The half breed hunters on the border lands dividing
Maine from the Province of Quebec are said to have
Slaughtered large numbers of deer. moose and cari-
bou during the present winter the animals falling
an easy prey to them on account of the deep, crusted
snow, which rendered escape from pursuit impossi-
ble.

SHERBROOKE, June 1883.