154 NEW ENGLAND WINTER. 



Winter beauty, such as I have been hint- 

 ing at, is not far to seek, whether by towns- 

 man or rustic. Bostonians have only to 

 cross the Mill-Dam, a rather too fashion- 

 able promenade, it is true, but even here 

 one may be tolerably certain of elbow-room 

 on a January morning. Often have I taken 

 this road to health and happiness, waxing 

 enthusiastic as I have proceeded, admiring 

 the snow-bound scene with a fervor which 

 the most opulent of summer landscapes sel- 

 dom excites ; and, pushing on with increas- 

 ing exhilaration, have brought up at last on 

 Corey Hill, where the inquisitive north-wind 

 has very likely abbreviated my stay, but 

 has never yet spoiled my rapture at the 

 wonderful white world underneath. 



Economy has its pleasures, it is said, for 

 all healthily constituted minds. We like, 

 all of us, to make much out of little ; to do 

 a notable piece of work with ordinary tools ; 

 to treat a meagre and commonplace theme 

 in such a manner that whoever begins to 

 read has no alternative but to finish ; to 

 tempt an epicure with the daintiest of re- 

 pasts out of the simplest and fewest of 

 every - day materials ; to paint a picture 



