166 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
through the valley, and the myriad rocks that - 
check its course are all rounded with fleecy sur- 
faces, till they seem like flocks of tranquil sheep 
that drink the shallow flood. 
The day is one of moderate cold, but clear 
and bracing; the air sparkles like the snow; 
everything seems dry. and resonant, like the 
wood of a violin. All sounds are musical, — 
the voices of children, the cooing of doves, the 
crowing of cocks, the chopping of wood, the 
creaking of country sleds, the sweet jangle of 
sleigh-bells. The snow has fallen under a cold 
temperature, and the flakes are perfectly crys- 
tallized; every shrub we pass bears wreaths 
which glitter as gorgeously as the nebula in the 
constellation Perseus; but in another hour of 
sunshine every one of those fragile outlines 
will disappear, and the white surface glitter no 
longer with stars but with star-dust. On such 
a day, the universe seems to hold but three 
pure tints, — blue, white, and green. The love- 
liness of the universe seems simplified to its 
last extreme of refined delicacy. That sensation 
we poor mortals often have, of being just on 
the edge of infinite beauty, yet with always a 
lingering film between, never presses down 
more closely than on days like this. Every- 
thing seems perfectly prepared to satiate the 
soul with inexpressible felicity, if we could only, 
