228 CROSS-CUT VIEWS OF WINTER. 



polishers launders the immaculate drapery. With 

 a glass, the sheen of the ice varnish on the hill- 

 sides, ten miles away, is visible, and the spots 

 among the evergreens glow like white flames. 

 The yellowish reflections and the sharply outlined 

 blue shadows of objects on the enameled landscape 

 are at different angles, and present a striking ap- 

 pearance. The trees are made of glass, bedecked 

 with gems that quickly change as if by magic, 

 from amethysts to emeralds, sapphires to rubies, 

 and again to opals and pearls. 



A fairy land indeed. In the evenings the moon 

 rises early and, like a genial warder, glides through 

 the galleries and chambers, again polishing the 

 floors and lighting up the tree chandeliers with 

 millions of diamond jets. In the distance on the 

 white flelds and hills rests a dim light, as if in the 

 full light of the sun they were viewed through a 

 piece of delicately azure-tinted glass; the ever- 

 greens, in striking contrast, appear almost black 

 with their distinct clear-cut shadows, while here 

 and there, in relief, like crimson checks in alabas- 

 ter, gleam the ruddy cheerful lights of evening 

 lamps. 



Truly, in winter, even, there is much to interest 

 one who walks across lots. Pretty pictures, cun- 



