Letters to a Friend 



like sheets. But last Sunday, ifjth, was a dark 

 day; the rich streams of heat and light were 

 withheld; the thermometer fell suddenly to 

 35 degrees, and down among the verdant banks 

 of new leaves, and groves of half-open ferns, 

 and thick settlements of confident flowers, came 

 heavy snow in big, blinding flakes, coming 

 down with a steady gait and taking their places 

 gracefully upon shrinking leaves and petals as 

 if they were doing exactly right. The whole 

 day was snowy and stormy like a piece of early 

 winter. Snow fell also on the i6th. A good 

 many of the ferns and delicate flowers are 

 killed. 



There are about fifty visitors in the valley at 

 present. When are you and the Doctor coming? 

 Mr. Hutchings has not yet returned from Wash 

 ington, and so I will be here all summer. I have 

 not heard from you since January. 



I had a letter the other day from Prof. Butler. 

 He has been glancing and twinkling about 

 among the towns of all the States at a most 

 unsubstantial velocity. 



[ 79] 



