112 BEACH GRASS 



week-ends made the more interesting, but I al- 

 ways secretly hoped that the storm would block 

 the trains for my return and thereby prolong my 

 stay. 



With snowshoes I was always able to walk 

 to and from my house and the station, but trains 

 are more easily blocked. In the early days of 

 the snow, I had not prepared for this emergency 

 and had left the shoes in the Ipswich house. 

 Consequently late one Saturday afternoon in 

 January, I found myself with a friend at the 

 Ipswich railroad station, separated by three miles 

 and a half of snow-blocked road from our des- 

 tination and suitable foot gear, a distance that 

 could not be traversed by either horse or motor. 



It had snowed intermittently for a week and 

 two feet of snow on a level had fallen. For the 

 last twenty-four hours it had blown a gale from 

 the northeast and the air was filled with driving 

 snow. The walk through the village streets, 

 banked up with snow and embowered in great 

 overarching elms, their branches snow-covered, 

 glistening in the street lights, was pleasant and 

 easy. In the lee of Heart-break Hill the snow 



