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, a week ago, as if, in my time as a boy, we lived out of doors every day, and all day long, regardless of everything that winter could do to hinder us. That was an exaggeration. Now and then there came a time when the weather shook itself loose, as it were, and bore down upon us with banners flying. Then the strong man bowed himself, and even the playful boy took to his burrow. The pond might be smooth as glass, but he did not skate; the hill-track might be in prime condition, but he did not slide. He sang low, and waited for a change.

Not that he stayed at home from school. Let no degenerate reader, the enfeebled victim of modern ideas, think that. The day of coddling had not yet dawned upon New England. There was no bell then to announce a full holiday, or "one session,"