THROUGHOUT THE YEAR 13 



miniature pillars roofed over by a canopy of clema- 

 tis. Its feathery seeds made a soft gray curtain 

 which hung over the entrance to a path provided, 

 as it seemed, for our extremity. Stooping, we 

 crossed the fence where the stumps stood aside 

 for us, and tall sumachs gave us welcome. They 

 formed a sort of torchlight procession back to the 

 brook-bed and there left us to continue our jour- 

 ney, while they followed the fence down the hill. 

 But a short distance below the highway the stream 

 obeyed the natural law of its family in this region 

 and dropped suddenly into a gully, continuing 

 its way toward the lowlands between precipitous 

 banks. 



Our next visit to Peppermint Brook was in Jan- 

 uary. The fireside-loving family held up their 

 hands in horror when we announced our intention 

 of going out. We dressed for snow and found it. 

 We found, too, mysterious stillness and wonder. 

 Winter had so transformed the whole region that we 

 should hardly have recognized our brook had it not 

 been for the oak tree and the island. When we 

 came to the wire fence we could not creep under on 

 account of the snow. The sumachs across the road 

 stood revealed in all their nakedness. They, too, 

 seemed to hold up their hands in horror at our 

 daring to pry into winter's mysteries. We fled back 

 over the path by which we had come, refusing to be 

 comforted until we put a friendly group of willows 

 between us and those uplifted hands. Among the 

 willows a bright little holly bush cheered us and tiny 



