130 SYLVAN WINTER. 



above the horizon, and soon emerges into full 

 view, casting as yet but a feeble light. Anon, it 

 struggles through fleecy clouds, now appearing, 

 now obscured. Then at length it rises clear into 

 the blue arc, throwing the full flood of its silvery 

 radiance upon meadow and hedge and tree. The 

 wintry trees have an appearance of singular still- 

 ness, of desolateness and abandonment for in 

 summer, when clothed with their delightful dress 

 of green leaves, there is about them an air of 

 comfort, a sort of restful fullness. 



Here and there meadows which receive the 

 full light of the moon are thrown into relief 

 by the shadows which lurk in trenches that 

 cross and intersect them. Presently the vision 

 momentarily changes as the train runs into 

 a station. The red, blue, and white lights; 

 the sheen of the worn and polished rails as the 

 moonbeams are reflected from them; the rush 

 of passengers for refreshment; the hurry, 

 bustle, and general excitement ; the lights of the 

 town, sometimes houses only, and sometimes 

 houses and trees sometimes level, and sometimes 

 undulated or hilly. Then away again into a 



