204 THE WOODS IN ERMINE. 



lings was duplicated in porcelain, from which the 

 tall trees lifted their brown trunks as if they had 

 sprung out of a sea of Parian marble. It seemed 

 almost like an absolution to plunge into that ocean 

 of whiteness. As I stood in those wooded aisles, 

 I felt that the place was indeed a Bethel, a natural 

 temple where one might kneel and worship, scarcely 

 needing any other chrism than that of the softly 

 filtering snow. 



Sometimes, by bending low, I could creep into 

 a secluded boudoir beneath the bushes, where I 

 stood completely engirded and over-arched by a 

 filigree of crj^stal shafts. At some places the 

 bushes bent low beneath their burdens, and one 

 sapling had broken down entirely, and lay across 

 my pathway, held to the ground in the embrace of 

 the snow. In one place the wood-road I was pur- 

 suing was completely closed up by the interlock- 

 ing branches on either side, so that I had to turn 

 out of my way and creep around the crystalline 

 obstruction. A slender sapling, that had not cast 

 off its last summer's suit of leaves, was bending 

 over until its top almost touched the ground, 

 making a graceful arch of white and brown. 

 Every tre'e and bush was, in fact, a vision of 

 loveliness. I stood beneath a low but widely- 



