craft these, of rich aspeft; caciques and royal barges 

 upon some Golden Horn. Here and there, one 

 more venturesome steers boldly out into the open, 

 carried by favoring winds, and makes some foreign 

 port among the lily-pads. You may become enam- 

 ored of a winsome pond on October days, a mys- 

 tical beauty veiled in autumn haze, only to find 

 her mood changed for the reserve and uncom- 

 municativeness of winter. 



When the pond freezes over we experience 

 something of that feeling which comes with the 

 first snow, a delightful sense of novelty, briefly 

 entertained each season. The water has suddenly 

 lost its mobility and become passive and expres- 

 sionless, as one in a hypnotic state. A great calm 

 has settled upon the earth; the winter sleep is in 

 the air and the ponds have succumbed with the 

 woodchuck. Only the chickadees, scolding and 

 gossiping in trie pitch-pines, seem to be awake 

 and unaffected by the change. A cold bluish light 

 pervades the leafless woods, reflected from the 

 snow and appearing to emanate from the ground 

 rather than the sky. The earth is wrapped in 

 silence, yet it is not austere nor repellent. One 

 feels this stillness, which appeals to some sixth 



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