a ©iiest for Winter. 2 2 1 



rod and the wild carrot, the vervain and the tansy, 

 all erect their slender stalks, and nod a brave 

 greeting. 



The trees stripped of their foilage only show their 

 splendid anatomy the more clearly. They look like 

 wrestlers trained to finest condition, with no super- 

 fluous flesh, their contours giving the impression of 

 strength and noble vigour, missed under the draperies 

 of summer leaves. This day the clearing skies 

 showed bright and cold behind the scattering clouds, 

 and the crisp atmosphere recalled Lowell's vivid 

 phrase, "The air you drink \sfrappe, its grosser par- 

 ticles precipitated, and all the dregs of your blood 

 with them." I was loth to see the sun go down and 

 end this satisfying winter day. 



But the frosty night gave promise of a clear mor- 

 row, and when the rising sun set the snows aflame 

 upon the Dome, and every twig on elm and maple 

 glittered as if crusted with gems, and the crisp snow 

 creaked under the footfalls of the few passers-by, it 

 was hard to keep from singing the Doxology aloud, 

 and impossible not to hum it under one's breath. 

 The mercury kept below fifteen degrees all day. 

 The sun shone clear and the winds were still. The 

 wood-fire in the ample fireplace shed a wholesome 

 glow into the cheery room, and the whole house, 

 the birthplace of my delightful hostess, and the 

 homestead of her father before her, was radiant with 

 the comfort and the peace of a typical New England 

 home. Twice that day it was my privilege to greet 



