SNUGGING-DOWN DAYS 



promise of snow. But the clouds stopped 

 at a definite line in the west and at setting 

 the sun dropped below this and sent a 

 golden flood rolling through the trees that 

 mark the boundary between field and 

 pond, lighting up all the bog with glory 

 and gilding the muskrat teepees and the 

 tall bog grass and the distant trees across 

 the water till all the sere and withered 

 leaves were bathed in serenity, as softly 

 and serenely bright as if the golden age 

 had come to us all. In this wise the crys- 

 tal day, with its sheltered exultation of 

 spring and its gray promise of winter's 

 snow all fused into one golden delight of 

 sunset glory, marched on over the western 

 hills trailing paths of gilded shadow be- 

 hind it along which one walked the home- 

 ward way as if into the perfect day. 



21 



