WINTER MARVELS 11 



opens upon a new world. The half -covered rivu- 

 let becomes a monster glacier-fed stream, rushing 

 down through grand canyons and caves, hung with 

 icy stalactites. Bit by bit the walls are under- 

 mined and massive icebergs become detached and 

 are whirled away. As for moraines, we have them 

 in plenty; only the windrows of thousands upon 

 thousands of tiny seeds of which they are com- 

 posed, are not permanent, but change their form 

 and position with every strong gust of wind. And 

 with every gust too their numbers increase, the 

 harvest of the weeds being garnered here, upon 

 barren ground. No wonder the stream will be 

 hidden from view next summer, when the myriad 

 seeds sprout and begin to fight upward for light 

 and air. 



If we cannot hope for polar bears to complete 

 our Arctic scene, we may thrill at the sight of a 

 sinuous weasel, winding his way among the 

 weeds; and if we look in vain for swans, we at 

 least may rejoice in a whirling, white flock of snow 

 buntings. 



A few flakes fall gently upon our sleeve and 

 another world opens before us. A small hand- 

 lens will be of service, although sharp eyes may 

 dispense with it. Gather a few recently fallen 

 flakes upon a piece of black cloth, and the lens will 

 reveal jewels more beautiful than any ever 

 fashioned by the hand of man. Six-pointed crys- 

 tals, always hexagonal, of a myriad patterns, 



