I 



234 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



turesque winter. The water of the 

 Sound is gray-blue, but with the chang- 

 ing flaws it wears as many hues as the 

 moods of the stirring winds. Not a 

 sail is to be seen nor even a smoke 

 puff. Two lighthouses stand at the 

 reef-points, the tide creeps over the 

 sand beach in a crescent. By the mouth 

 of the creek, the bells of St. Mary's 

 hang silent, the gulls sweep about and 

 float on the water, and clattering, flock 

 on the long sand bars. Next lies the 

 village, with its various houses nestled 

 among the bare elms, a rampart of out- 

 lines. To the eastward stand tall chim- 

 neys that breathe flame and cinders, a 

 factory city, whose thin, piercing spires 

 are partly hidden by smoke. 



Look at these chimneys also, though 

 they break the harmonious circle, we 

 must wear clothes and we must eat, for 

 we may not all find sweetness in white 



