WINTER SUNSHINE. 13 



azure, and the buzzards look like kingly birds, sail- 

 ing round and round. 



Or it may be later in the season, well into Decem- 

 ber. The days are equally bright, but a little more 

 rugged. The mornings are ushered in by an im- 

 mense spectrum thrown upon the eastern sky. A 

 broad bar of red and orange lies along the low hori- 

 zon, surmounted by an expanse of color in which 

 green struggles with yellow and blue with green half 

 the way to the zenith. By and by the red and or- 

 ange spread upward and grow dim, the spectrum fades 

 and the sky becomes suffused with yellow white light, 

 and in a moment the fiery scintillations of the sun 

 begin to break across the Maryland hills. Then be- 

 fore long the mists and vapors uprise like the breath 

 of a giant army, and for an hour or two one is re- 

 minded of a November morning in England. But 

 by mid-forenoon the only trace of the obscurity that 

 remains is a slight haze, and the day is indeed a sum- 

 mons and a challenge to come forth. If the Octo- 

 ber days were a cordial like the sub-acids of fruit, 

 these are a tonic like the wine of iron. Drink deep 

 or be careful how you taste this December vintage. 

 The first sip may chill, but a full draught warms and 

 invigorates. No loitering by the brooks or in the 

 woods now, but spirited, rugged walking along the 

 public highway. The sunbeams are welcome now. 

 They seem like pure electricity like friendly and 

 recuperating lightning. Are we led to think elec- 

 tricity abounds only in summer, when we see in the 



