Letters to a Friend 



April 1 3th. 



About twelve inches of snow fell in that last 

 snowstorm. It disappeared as suddenly as it 

 came, snatched away hastily almost before it 

 had time to melt, as if a mistake had been made 

 in allowing it to come here at all. 



A week of spring days bright in every hour, 

 without a stain or thought of the storm, came 

 in glorious colors, giving still greater pledges of 

 happy life to every living creature of the spring, 

 but a loud, energetic snowstorm possessed 

 every hour of yesterday. Every tree and broken 

 weed bloomed yet once more; all summer dis 

 tinctions were leveled off; all plants and the 

 very rocks and streams were equally polypetal- 

 ous. 



This morning winter had everything in the 

 valley. The snow drifted about in the frosty 

 wind like meal, and the falls were muffled in 

 thick sheets of frozen spray. Thus do winter 

 and spring leap into the valley by turns, each 

 remaining long enough to form a small season 

 or climate of its own, or going and coming 

 [ 75 1 



