22 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



sands across which they roared ; but beyond 

 them was no land, only the fury of gray and 

 white hanging above a hissing, greenish gray 

 and white below. The sand was brown, not a 

 warm brown, but a cold, shining, grayish brown 

 with no kindness in it. 



There was nothing in the whole world which 

 my eye could reach to suggest warmth or happi- 

 ness. True, there were the empty buildings 

 with padlocked doors among the snow-covered 

 trees, but they were more desolate and soul-chill- 

 ing than anything in nature. I walked among 

 them until wearied by the mockery of their 

 signs and broken paraphernalia. Hideous ki- 

 osks, whose blue and yellow paint was partly 

 covered by the white pity of the storm, told in 

 glaring letters of " Ice Water," " Red Hot Pop 

 Corn," " Sunshades and Fans," and " Clam 

 Chowder." The wind shrieked through their 

 cracks and pelted wet snow against their win- 

 dows. In>the amphitheatre where spectacular 

 plays are given on summer evenings the tide 

 dabbled with the rusty wheels of a sheet-iron 

 car marked " Apache." Beyond it, canvas 

 mountains and canons were swaying and creak- 

 ing in the storm, their ragged edges humming 

 in the wind. A sign offered " Seats for 50 

 cents, children 25." The seats were softly 

 cushioned by six inches of snow, but the idle 



