To quote from Charley Marden, it was "cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey,"-- an observation which seemed to me extremely happy, though I knew little or nothing concerning the endurance of brass monkeys, having never seen one.
I had looked forward to the advent of the season with grave apprehensions, nerving myself to meet dreary nights and monotonous days; but summer itself was not more jolly than winter at Rivermouth.
Snow-balling at school, skating on the Mill Pond, coasting by moonlight, long rides behind Gypsy in a brand-new little sleigh built expressly for her, were sports no less exhilarating than those which belonged to the sunny months.

And then Thanksgiving! The nose of Memory--why shouldn't Memory have a nose ?--dilates with pleasure over the rich perfume of Miss Abigail's forty mince-pies, each one more delightful than the other, like the Sultan's forty wives.

Christmas was another red-letter day, though it was not so generally observed in New England as it is now.
The great wood-fire in the tiled chimney-place made our sitting-room very cheerful of winter nights.

When the north-wind howled about the eaves, and the sharp fingers of the sleet tapped against the window-panes, it was nice to be so warmly sheltered from the storm.

A dish of apples and a pitcher of chilly cider were always served during the evening.