SNOW 169 
glade. But the trees furnish society enough. 
What a congress of ermined kings is this circle 
of hemlocks, which stand, white in their soft 
raiment, around the dais of this woodland pond! 
Are they held here, like the sovereigns in the 
palace of the Sleeping Beauty, till some mortal 
breaks their spell? What sage counsels must 
be theirs, as they nod their weary heads and 
whisper ghostly memories and old men’s tales 
to each other, while the red leaves dance on the 
snowy sward below, or a fox or squirrel steals 
hurriedly through the wild and wintry night! 
Here and there is some discrowned Lear, who 
has thrown off his regal mantle, and stands in 
faded russet, misplaced among the monarchs. 
What a simple and stately hospitality is that 
of nature in winter! The season which the 
residents of cities think an obstruction is in 
the country an extension of intercourse: it 
opens every forest from here to Labrador, free 
of entrance; themost tangled thicket, the most 
treacherous marsh, becomes passable; and the 
lumberman or moose hunter, mounted on his 
snowshoes, has the world before him. He says 
“ good snowshoeing,” as we say “good sleigh- 
ing ;” and it gives a sensation like a first visit 
to the seaside and the shipping, when one first 
sees exhibited for sale, in the streets of Bangor 
or Montreal, these delicate Indian conveyances. 
