1872.] WINTER GLORIES. 313 



letter, in which he asked for an answer to it which (if in 

 French) he might be allowed to translate for the papers. 

 None was sent; but (December 4, 1876) he wrote to me: 

 "No doctor has dared to say any more about C.D.A. : so I 

 simply file the documents you kindly send, to be ready." 



It was well that he was able to sweeten his imagination, 

 and gladden his heart, in the midst of his strivings with loath- 

 some corruption and sin, by his intense enjoyment of the 

 beauties of nature. He wrote (January 2, 1872) : "I do wish 

 you could all have seen, just for half an hour, the glories of our 

 illuminations yesterday and to-day. . . . The rain froze at 

 night, and deposited a very thick coating (half an inch to an 

 inch) of ice, over everything, including doors, walls, and every 

 twig and wire. After that, came the slightest little dusting of 

 snow, just as confectioners dust their cakes with sugar. The 

 New Year's sun rose in an almost cloudless deep-blue sky, and 

 transformed the whole face of nature into the most brilliant 

 spangles. Everything glittered beyond the diamond. The 

 ice of the purest water : each twig and bud and evergreen 

 leaf first wetted, then encased. The flower-buds of the 

 early maples, the red berries of barberry, mountain ash, etc., 

 and the greens of spruce and cedar, all bedecked with one 

 gorgeous diamond sparkling at every angle. This, multiplied 

 as far as the eye could reach. The trees bent by the weight 

 into the most graceful curves. The walls of the houses 

 sometimes on fire with the sun, and fringed at every ledge with 

 regular pendants of icicles. Then the soft, clear, yet bracing 

 air, perfectly still ; a few white cumuloid clouds, which gradu- 

 ally faded into uninterrupted ultra-cceline blue. The white 

 expanses of the river and plain, ending in the bold outlines of 

 Beloeil and the Carmelites, the Green Mountains and the 

 ancient Adirondacks. It was a complete paradise of beauty." 



Philip had long been anxious about the health of his wife, 

 and she was persuaded this summer (1872) to visit England, 

 where she spent most of the time at Weymouth. We were all 

 glad to hear from her various particulars as to their life and 

 friends at Montreal, which we had not learnt from letters. 



