SNOW 167 
by one infinitesimal step farther, reach the 
mood to dwell in it. 
Leaving behind us the sleighs and snow- 
shovels of the street, we turn noiselessly toward 
the radiant margin of the sunlit woods. The 
yellow willows on the causeway burn like flame 
against the darker background, and will burn on 
until they burst into April. Yonder pines and 
hemlocks stand motionless and dark against the 
sky. The statelier trees have already shaken 
all the snow from their summits, but it still 
clothes the lower ones with a white covering 
that looks solid as marble. Yet see how lightly 
it escapes ! — a slight gust shakes a single tree, 
there is a Staud-bach for a moment, and the 
branches stand free as in summer, a pyramid 
of green amid the whiteness of the yet im- 
prisoned forest. Each branch raises itself 
when emancipated, thus changing the whole 
outline of the growth ; and the snow beneath 
is punctured with a thousand little depressions, 
where the petty avalanches have just buried 
themselves and disappeared. 
In crossing this white level, we have been 
tracking our way across an invisible pond, which . 
was alive last week with five hundred skaters. 
Now there is a foot of snow upon it, through 
which there is a boyish excitement in making 
the first path. Looking back upon our track, 
