uter world. It does not even want sympathy; it merely wants to be left
alone.

It strangely chimed in with my mood on this particular and very perfect
morning that no jolt shook me up, that we glided along over virgin snow
which had come soft-footedly over night, in a motion, so smooth and
silent as to suggest that wingless flight...

We spurned the miles, and I saw them not. As if in a dream we turned in
at one of the "half way farms," and the horses drank. And we went on
and wound our way across that corner of the marsh. We came to the "White
Range Line House," and though there were many things to see, I still
closed the eye of conscious vision and saw them not. We neared the
bridge, and we crossed it; and then--when I had turned southeast--on to
the winding log-road through the bush--at last the spell that was cast
over me gave way and broke. My horses fell into their accustomed walk,
and at last I saw.

Now, what I saw, may not be worth the describing, I do not know. It
surely is hardly capable of being described. But if I had been led
through fairylands or enchanted gardens, I could not have been awakened
to a truer day of joy, to a greater realization of the good will towards
all things than I was here.

Oh, the surpassing beauty of it! There stood the trees, motionless under
that veil of mist, and not their slenderest finger but was clothed in
white. And the white it was! A translucent white, receding into itself,
with strange backgrounds of white behind it--a modest white, and yet
full of pride. An elusive white, and yet firm and substantial. The
white of a diamond lying on snow white velvet, the white of a diamond
in diffused light. None of the sparkle and colour play that the most
precious of stones assumes under a definite, limited light which
proceeds from a definite, limited source. Its colour play was suggested,
it is true, but so subdued that you hardly thought of naming or even
recognising its component parts. There was no red or yellow or blue or
violet, but merely that which might flash into red and yellow and blue
and violet, should perchance the sun break forth and monopolize
the luminosity of the atmosphere. There was, as it were, a latent
opalescence.

And every twig and every bough, every branch and every limb, every trunk
and every crack even in the bark was furred with it. It seemed as if
the hoarfrost still continued to form. It looked heavy, and yet it was
nearly without weight. Not a tw