A SNOWSTORM
Last night, the cold north wind blew great snow clouds over the sky. Not a star, not a bit of blue sky could be seen.
Soon the tiny flakes floated softly down, like flocks of little white birds. Faster and faster they came, till they filled the air. They made no noise, but they were busy all night long.
They covered all the ground with a soft, white carpet. They hung beautiful plumes on the tall, green firs. The little bushes, they put to sleep in warm nightgowns and caps.
They hid the paths so that the boys might have the fun of digging new ones. They turned the old picket fence into a row of soldiers, and the gate posts into captains, with tall white hats on.
The old corn basket that was left out by the barn, upside down, they made into a cunning little snow house with a round food.
When the busy little flakes had done their work, the sun came up to see what they had been about.
He must have been pleased with what he saw, for he smiled such a bright, sweet, that the whole white world sparkled as if it were made of little stars.
Who would have thought that the black clouds could hide the little fairies that made the earth so beautiful!
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