62 RIVERSIDE LETTERS VMI 



leaves hanging over and lobbing about like a 

 row of drunken men. Young marrow plants 

 are reduced to absolute nothingness, and so 

 on, and so on, everywhere you look. 



The cruel wind seems to fall away to a 

 calm towards evening and the nights are clear 

 and bright ; towards morning there is a thick 

 white mist and at six o'clock the grass and 

 roofs are white with frost. The sky is cloud- 

 less at first, but about eight o'clock the old 

 persistent devil-wind begins again bringing 

 with it paltry gray clouds and the day is 

 passed in alternate intervals of scorching sun 

 and cold rain or sleet. You in town would 

 only notice the cold, but here, we are pain- 

 fully alive to the widespread misery and loss 

 such weather brings. 



No doubt but that the birds must suffer 

 too; Peter brought me yesterday two dead 

 swallows, which he picked up by the boat- 

 house, no doubt killed by the cold. I can 

 only hope that they were a husband and wife, 

 so that only one family may have suffered. 



