To the same.
Wayland, 1873.
New Year's Day shone very brightly out of heaven.
A fine mist had frozen on the trees, and made them look like great chandeliers of crystallization sparkling in the clear blue sky. What can Alpine regions furnish more beautiful than this scene of fairy splendor?
I thought of you and of the little feet that would be trotting through the snow to see what Miss Osgood had provided for them.
They read of fairies that disguise themselves like old women, though they are in reality young and beautiful, and have all manner
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of flowers and jewels that they can shake out of their mantles when they choose.
I should n't wonder!
the Medford little folks suspected you of being one of those rich and beneficent beings, and would be on the look-out to catch a glimpse of your hidden rainbow-wings some day. I hope you and they had a pleasant time as usual.
I devote my New Year's attentions to old folks.
Two of the eight for whom I always try to do something pleasant on that anniversary have passed away since that season last came round.
My protegees are likely to diminish while yours will increase; but I have fewer competitors in my department, and I find that the old are as much pleased by presents and tokens of remembrance as children are.