2 IN WINTER. 



old worm fence, and capped the outreaching 

 branches of the scattered trees. The glint of 

 splintered glass filled the landscape. 



Knowing the view would there be least ob- 

 structed, I walked leisurely to a high knoll in the 

 lower meadows, leaving a curiously dark streak 

 behind me where I brushed away the frost as I 

 passed. Not a bird greeted me. The sparrows 

 and chickadees of yesterday were still asleep. 

 The crackling of brittle twigs beneath my feet 

 was the only sound I heard, save, of course, the 

 blended voices of the distant crows. The bright- 

 ening of the eastern sky proceeded slowly. 

 Cloud above cloud threatened to shut out the 

 light until the day had well advanced ; while 

 from the river rose a filmy bank of smoke-like 

 fog that settled in huge masses over the interven- 

 ing marshes. But still the crows were clamor- 

 ous, and I had been told that their songs at sun- 

 rise augured a fair day ; so, 'twixt hope and fear, 

 I reached the high knoll in my neighbor's mead- 

 ow. It was at the nick of time. Without a 

 heralding ray in the whole horizon, a flood of 

 rosy light leaped through a rift in the clouds 

 and every cold gray crystal of the frost glowed 

 with ruddy warmth. Then deafening loud was 

 the din of the foraging crows, as though they 

 exulted at the fullfillment of their prediction ; and 

 from that moment on, the day was beautiful. 



