54 



THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



turn of Nature, after such a career of splendor and 

 prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost 

 either upon the head or the heart. It is the philoso- 

 pher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a 

 cup of water and a crust of bread. 



And then this beautiful masquerade of the elements, 

 — the novel disguises our nearest friends put on ! 

 Here is another rain and another dew, water that will 

 not flow, nor spill, nor receive the taint of an unclean 

 vessel. And if we see truly, the same old beneficence 

 and willingness to serve lurk beneath all. 



Look up at the miracle of the falling snow, — the air 

 a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly 

 transforming the world, the exquisite crystals dropping 

 in ditch and gutter, and disguising in the same suit of 

 spotless livery all objects upon which they fall. How 

 novel and fine the first drifts ! The old, dilapidated 

 fence is suddenly set off with the most fantastic ruffles, 

 scalloped and fluted after an unheard-of fashion ! Look- 

 ing down a long line of decrepit stone-wall, in the 

 trimming of which the wind had fairly run riot, I saw, 

 as for the first time, what a severe yet master artist old 

 Winter is. Ah, a severe artist ! How stern the woods 

 look, dark and cold and as rigid against the horizon as 

 iron ! 



All life and action upon the snow have an added em- 

 phasis and significance. Every expression is under- 

 scored. Summer has few finer pictures than this 

 winter one of the farmer foddering his cattle from a 



