144 NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 



of depravity that honest people, who love 

 a paradox without knowing it, find perfec- 

 tion, of no matter how innocent a sort, just 

 a little wearisome. Therefore, I say, let 

 me have a year made up of well-defined 

 contrasts; in short, a New England year, 

 of four clearly marked seasons. 



It is often alleged, I know, that we really 

 have only three seasons ; that winter leaps 

 into the lap of summer, and spring is noth- 

 ing but a myth of the almanac makers. I 

 shall credit this story when I am convinced 

 of the truth of another statement, equally 

 current and equally well vouched, that 

 every successive summer is the hottest (or 

 the coldest) for the last twenty-five years. 

 As there is no subject so much talked about 

 as the weather, so, almost of course, there 

 is none so much lied about. Winter claims 

 most of March, as the astronomers give it 

 leave to do, I believe ; but April and May, 

 despite a snow-storm or two in the former, 

 and a torrid week in the latter, are neither 

 summer nor winter, but spring ; somewhat 

 fickle, it is true, more or less uncertain of it- 

 self, but still retaining its personal identity. 



As for our actual winter, it may enhance 



