AN ICE-STORM 



sudden crash, shattering in a thousand 

 fragments the brief adornments that 

 have wrought its destruction. 



Every kind of tree has as marked in- 

 dividuality in its icy garniture as in its 

 summer foliage. The gracefulness of 

 the elms, the maples, the birches, the 

 beeches, and the hornbeams is preserved 

 and even intensified ; the clumsy ramage 

 of the butternut and ash is as stiff as 

 ever, though every unbending twig bears 

 its row of glittering pendants. The 

 hemlocks and firs are tents of ice, but 

 the pines are still pines, with every 

 needle exaggerated in bristling crystal. 



Some worthless things have become 

 of present value, as the wayside thistles 

 and the bejeweled grass of an unshorn 

 meadow, that yesterday with its dun 

 unsightliness, rustling above the snow, 

 proclaimed the shiftlessness of its owner. 



Things most unpicturesque are made 

 beautiful. The wire of the telegraph 

 with its dull undulations is transformed 

 to festoons of crystal fringe, linking to- 

 gether shining pillars of glass that yes- 

 terday were but bare, unsightly posts. 



The woods are a maze of fantastic 

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