Then the snow fell thick, and the snow fell fast. The hills and the valleys, the hedges and hollows were white. The paths were all hidden, and there were drifts like mountains on the king's highway. The harper stumbled and the harper fell, but he would not turn back; and as he traveled he met the wind.
"Brother Harper, turn, I pray;
Do not journey on to-day,"
sang the wind, but the harper would not heed.
"Snows may fall and winds may blow, but I must go on," he said, "for I have a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside."
Then the wind blew an icy blast. The snow froze on the ground and the water froze in the rivers. The harper's breath froze in the air, and icicles as long as the king's sword hung from the rocks on the king's highway. The harper shivered and the harper shook, but he would not turn back; and by and by he came to the forest that lay between him and his home.
THE HARPER WAS HAPPIER THAN A KING AS HE SAT BY HIS OWN FIRESIDE.
The trees of the forest were creaking and bending in the wind, and every one of them seemed to say:
"Darkness gathers, night is near;
Harper, stop! Don't venture here."