It was like a spring day. The little lake in
front of the window glittered like a mirror of silver, set in its
dark frame of pine woods.
I, too, was wearying for the snow, and was tempted to think that it
did not come as early as usual, in order to disappoint us. But I
kept this to myself, and comforted the expecting child with the
oft-repeated assertion that it would certainly snow upon the morrow.
But the morrow came and passed away, and many other morrows, and the
same mild, open weather prevailed. The last night of the old year
was ushered in with furious storms of wind and snow; the rafters of
our log cabin shook beneath the violence of the gale, which swept
up from the lake like a lion roaring for its prey, driving the
snow-flakes through every open crevice, of which there were not a
few, and powdering the floor until it rivalled in whiteness the
ground without.
"Oh, what a dreadful night!" we cried, as we huddled, shivering,
around the old broken stove. "A person abroad in the woods to-night
would be frozen. Flesh and blood could not long stand this cutting
wind."
"It reminds me of the commencement of a laughable extempore ditty,"
said I to my young friend, A. C - -, who was staying with me,
"composed by my husband, during the first very cold night we spent
in Canada" -
Oh, the cold of Canada nobody knows,
The fire burns our shoes without warming our toes;
Oh, dear, what shall we do?
Our blankets are thin, and our noses are blue -
Our noses are blue, and our blankets are thin,
It's at zero without, and we're freezing within!
(Chorus) - Oh, dear, what shall we do?
