THIN ICE 



TOWARD midnight the pond fell 

 asleep. All day long it had frolicked with 

 the boisterous north wind, pretending to 

 frown and turn black in the face when 

 the cold shoulders of the gale bore down 

 upon its surface, dimpling as the pres- 

 sure left it and sparkling in brilliant glee 

 as the low hung sun laughed across its 

 ruffles. The wind went down with the 

 sun, as north winds often do, and left a 

 clear mirror stretching from shore to 

 shore, and reflecting the cold yellow of 

 the winter twilight. 



As this chill twilight iced into the 



frozen purple of dusk, tremulous stars 



quivered into being out of the violet 



blackness of space. The nebular hypoth- 



47 



