TXKfo £tf t on t$t (£oc8i«r 



long admired this ever-cheerful, ever-spreading 

 vine before I appreciated the good though hum- 

 ble work it is constantly doing. I had often 

 stopped to greet it, — the only green thing upon 

 a rock ledge or a sandy stretch, — had walked 

 over it in forest avenues beneath tall and stately 

 pines, and had slept comfortably upon its spicy, 

 elastic rugs, liking it from the first. But on one 

 of my winter tramps I fell in love with this beau- 

 tiful evergreen. 



The day was a cold one, and the high, gusty 

 wind was tossing and playing with the last snow- 

 fall. I had been snowshoeing through the forest, 

 and had come out upon an unsheltered ridge 

 that was a part of a barren area which repeated 

 fires had changed from a forested condition to 

 desert. The snow lay several feet deep in the 

 woods, but as the gravelly distance before me 

 was bare, I took off my snowshoes. I went walk- 

 ing, and at times blowing, along the bleak ridge, 

 scarcely able to see through the snow-filled air. 

 But during a lull the air cleared of snow-dust 

 and I paused to look about me. The wind still 

 roared in the distance, and against the blue east- 



172 



