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WAS a dismal winter's evening, fast without came down the snow, But within, the cheerful fire cast a ruddy, genial glow O'er our pleasant little parlor, that was then my mother's pride. There she sat beside the glowing grate, my sister by her side; And beyond, within the shadow, in a cosy little nook Uncle Ned and I were sitting, and in whispering tones we spoke. I was asking for a story he had promised me to tell,—