Short Stories for English Courses

ster of Pfalzel. A little company of pilgrims, less than a score of men, were creeping

ots were crusted with snow. Drops of ice sparkled like jewels along the thongs that bound his legs. There was no other ornament to his dress except the bishop's cross hangin

dened his back, and made a man of him in stature as well as in spirit. His jacket and cap were of wolf- skin, and on his shoulder he carried an axe, with

mp, and drawn by two big, shaggy horses, blowing thick clouds of steam from their frosty nostrils. Tiny icicles hung

th bows and javelins. It was no child's p

d tangled thickets where the lynx and the boar made their lairs. Fierce bears lurked among the rocky passes, and had not yet learned to fear the face of man. The gloomy recesses of

mouth of the Rhine must travel with a little army of retainers

n groves like tidal waves. Smooth forests of beech-trees, round and gray, swept over the knolls and slopes of land in a mighty ground-swell. But most of all, the multitude of pines and firs, innumerable and monotonous, wit

ship had ploughed through the green ocean long ago, and left behind it a thick, smooth wake of foam. Along this open track the travell

still, cold air. The pale-blue shadows on the western side of the road grew longer. The sun, declining through its shallow arch, dropp

nd eat, and sleep. If we press onward now, we cannot see our steps; and will not that be aga

the legs of a man.' And so say I, for I am not minded to spare thy legs or mine, until we come farther on our way, and do what must be d

yielded to the stroke of the axes, and the snow flew from the bending branches, Winfrie

this Christmas eve. But we have work to do before we feast to-night. For this is the Yuletide, and the heathen people of the forest have gathered at the thunder-oak of Geismar to worship their god, Thor. Strange things will be seen th

take fresh heart. They flattened their backs to draw the heavy l

t into the road. A drove of wolves howled faintly in the distance, but they were receding, and the sound soon died away. The stars sparkled merrily through the stringent air; the small, round moon shon

ere spaces of meadow-land, fringed with alders, behind whi

beyond, they saw a great house, with many outbuildings and enclosed courtyards, from which the hounds bayed furiously, and a noise of stamping horses came from the stalls. But there was no othe

here a swelling hillock was crowned with a huge oak-tree. It towered above the heath, a giant with contorted arms, beckoning to the host of lesser trees. "Here," cried