252 UNDER THE OPEN SKY 



The frost crystals scream a brisk accom- 

 paniment to each step, and that means crisp 

 cold. The wheels of the train ring on the 

 steel rails. You never catch such a clang 

 as that in the summer time. Watch the 

 long line of white cloud as the steam from 

 the locomotive stack trails back. It does 

 not build the piled cottony white masses 

 that follow the locomotive on a summer af- 

 ternoon, especially before a thunder-shower. 

 Instead, the white stream soon melts into 

 a whispy, curly, diaphanous cloud, that 

 floats away in flecks. And then too how 

 the telegraph wires sing this morning ! This 

 is the time for these iEolian harps. On 

 these cold days the wires run in almost 

 straight lines from pole to pole. The cold 

 makes them shorter, and so tightens them 

 up. In summer they sag, and are not tense 

 enough to sing. But now every crisp breeze 

 sets them humming and ringing with a most 

 cheerful tune. If you have never heard 

 it before, lay your ear against the telegraph 

 pole, and you will catch music weird and 

 strange, with its absence of measured ca- 



