10 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



they seemed to be a mass of dark stems with 

 their tops shrouded in pale smoke through which 

 the faintest possible fire-glow permeated. I 

 suppose the color came from the reddish bark 

 of the twigs. Just then the sun found a rift 

 in the rushing clouds, and for a single minute 

 poured his glory upon the crystal world below. 

 Every tint changed. Every atom of ice re- 

 sponded, flashing to the touch of light, but the 

 east wind hurried forward fresh mists from the 

 ocean and the sunlight vanished. Below me 

 hundreds of small trees ti'ailed their tops upon 

 the snow. It seemed as though some muezzin 

 of the ice-world had called them to their prayers. 

 Farther away were acres of scattered pitch-pines, 

 every bunch of whose needles was a drooping 

 pompon of heavy ice. As I looked at them 

 through the thickly falling sleet they seemed to 

 march in ranks across the fields of snow, their 

 heads bent from the wintry storm, despair in 

 their attitude. " The retreat from Moscow," I 

 said, and hoped that the day of judgment against 

 the weak among the trees would not be followed 

 by a night of tempestuous wrath against the 

 whole ice-bound forest. 



The wind, gentle as it seemed, was too strong 

 for some trees. Once I heard a report like a 

 cannon, and turned to see an old willow forty 

 feet high plunge into the snow. At another 



