AftermyfirstvisittoBoston,IspentalmosteverywiheNorth.OnceIwentonavisittoaNewEnglandvillagewithitsfrozenlakesandvastsnowfields.ItwasthenthatIhadopportunitiessuchashadneverbeeoeothetreasuresofthesnow.

    Irecallmysurpriseondiscthatamysterioushandhadstrippedthetreesandbushes,leavingonlyhereandthereawrinkledleaf.Thebirdshadflown,andtheiremptysinthebaretreeswerefilledwithsnow.

    Winterwasonhillaheearthseemedbenumbedbyhisicytoudtheveryspiritsofthetreeshadwithdrawntotheirroots,andthere,curledupinthedark,layfastasleep.Alllifeseemedtohaveebbedaway,andevehesunshohedaywasShrunkandcold,Asifherveinsweresaplessandold,AndsheroseupdecrepitlyForalastdimlookatearthandsea.

    Thewitheredgrassandthebushesweretransformedintoaforestoficicles.

    Thencameadaywhenthechillairportendedasnowstorm.Werushedout-of-doorstofeelthefirstfewtinyflakesdesding.Hourbyhourtheflakesdroppedsilently,softlyfromtheirairyheighttotheearth,andthetrybecamemoreandmorelevel.Asnowynightclosedupontheworld,andinthemonecouldscarcelyreizeafeatureofthelandscape.Alltheroadswerehidden,notasinglelandmarkwasvisible,onlyawasteofsnowwithtreesrisingoutofit.

    Intheeveningawindfromthenortheastsprangup,andtheflakesrushedhitherandthitherinfuriousmelee.

    Aroundthegreatfirewesatandtoldmerrytales,andfrolicked,andquitefotthatwewereinthemidstofadesolatesolitude,shutinfromallunicationwiththeoutsideworld.Butduringthenightthefuryofthewindincreasedtosuchadegreethatitthrilleduswithavagueterror.Therafterscreakedandstrai