Anticipation of Winter 329 



ANTICIPATION OF WINTER. 



Our earth, in its yearly journey round the sun, has so far 

 reclined on its axis that those of us who reside in its northern 

 part, now see his face for only comparatively short periods 

 during each daily revolution. The labourer can no longer 

 have enough light for his work much after four in the after- 

 noon, and it is useless for him to be up and about much 

 before seven in the morning. With a fairly clear conscience 

 we can now remain in bed till near breakfast time, and if, as 

 all breakfast room windows ought to do, ours open to the 

 east, we may be dazzled at our meal by brilliant rays of 

 light which make straight for our eyes. We had nothing of 

 this trouble in the summer, but now, morning and evening, 

 the sun looks almost horizontally in at our windows. It may 

 in this way glorify pictures hanging on the opposite wall, of 

 which, during three fourths of the year, the beauties have 

 been but half seen. This shortening of our day is not only 

 an evidence of changed conditions, but it is ominous of others, 

 and more serious ones, to come. Nor is it a novelty; the 

 drama has been repeated year by year, millions of times, and 

 all that lives on the earth's surface has accommodated itself 

 to the recurring change. In a sense, the world may be said 

 to expect it. From the most lowly vegetable onward, through 

 the whole animal creation, it is recognised that a cold season 

 will come, and that with it there will be the slowing of all 

 life's energies and a temporary suspension of many of them. 

 The cold may bring with it various concomitants. The sur- 

 face ground may become hard as rock, the waters solid as 

 glass, and all surface-growth may be buried for weeks in a 

 thick wrapper of snow. 



It follows as a natural result of the long recurrence of 

 these changes, that all the various forms of life on the planet 



