But in other years the long descent into the depth of winter is taken not with a jump like that, but gently and softly and windingly, with a great many glimpses back at the summer, and a good deal of leaning on the arm of the sun.
And so it was this time.

The autumn and the winter for a fortnight stood looking quietly at each other.

They had quite agreed to share the hours, to suit the arrangements of the sun.

The nights were starry and fresh and brisk, without any touch of tartness; and the days were sunny and soft and gentle, without any sense of languor.

It was a lovely scene--blue shadows gliding among golden light.
The Sawyer came forth, and cried, "What a shame! This makes me feel quite young again.