WINTER AS IT WAS 193 



never done. So it seemed. And how bleak 

 and comfortless the weather was while we 

 were doing it ! A cruel world, and no mis- 

 take. But half an hour afterward, on the 

 hillside or the pond, the breeze was just 

 balmy, and life there was no time to think 

 how good we found it. No doubt it is true, 

 as the poet said, 



" There 's something in a flying horse, 

 There 's something in a huge balloon ; " 



but there 's more, a thousand times over, in 

 being a boy. 



