The snow, thawed on top by the early rains, and frozen anew during the cold nights, gave an icy surface that slipped away easily beneath the runners.

The high blue hills on the other side of Lake St.John which closed the horizon behind them were gradually lost to view as they returned up the long bend of the river.
Passing the church, Samuel Chapdelaine said thoughtfully--"The mass is beautiful.

I am often very sorry that we live so far from churches.

Perhaps not being able to attend to our religion every Sunday hinders us from being just so fortunate as other people." "It is not our fault," sighed Maria, "we are too far away." Her father shook his head regretfully.

The imposing ceremonial, the Latin chants, the lighted tapers, the solemnity of the Sunday mass never failed to fill Urn with exaltation.