?HE WITCHERY OF WINTER 



" TF a walk in winter is not simply stum- 

 1 bling over the graves of a dead sum- 

 mer's darlings, what, pray, is it ?" In some 

 such way ran the remark of a man who had 

 seen our winters only from car-windows or 

 those of his house on the city's street. It 

 is not strange that he held such an opinion. 

 Not even a sleigh-ride affords a fair view of 

 the world in winter. We must be free to 

 move if we would be free to see, and only 

 when on foot and we have the freedom of 

 the fields as well as of the highways can we 

 know what winter really means, and by win- 

 ter I mean weather that requires us to make 

 war upon the wood-pile. Winter is the 

 crystallization of a summer. A fixedness 

 and quiet now replace the flowing river and 

 music of the many birds that sang through- 

 out its valley. Now are the days of slender 

 shadows that streak the dull gray ground or 

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