We hear the sound of wood-chopping at the farmers’ doors， far over the frozen earth， the baying of the house-dog， and the distant clarion of the cock， —though the thin and frosty air conveys only the finer particles of sound to our ears， with short and sweet vibrations， as the waves subside soonest on the purest and lightest liquids， in which gross substances sink to the bottom. They come clear and bell-like， and from a greater distance in the horizon， as if there were fewer impediments than in summer to make them faint and ragged. The ground is sonorous， like seasoned wood， and even the ordinary rural sounds are melodious， and the jingling of the ice on the trees is sweet and liquid. There is the least possible moisture in the atmosphere， all being dried up or congealed， and it is of such extreme tenuity and elasticity that it becomes a source of delight. The withdrawn and tense sky seems groined like the aisles of a cathedral， and the polished air sparkles as if there were crystals of ice floating in it. As they who have resided in Greenland tell us that when it freezes “the sea smokes like burning turf-land， and a fog or mist arises， called frost-smoke，” which “cutting smoke frequently raises blisters on the face and hands， and is very pernicious to the health.” But this pure， stinging cold is an elixir to the lungs， and not so much a frozen mist as a crystallized midsummer haze， refined and purified by cold.
The sun at length rises through the distant woods， as if with the faint clashing， swinging sound of cymbals， melting the air with his beams， and with such rapid steps the morning travels， that already his rays are gilding the distant western mountains. Meanwhile we step hastily along through the powdery snow， warmed by an inward heat， enjoying an Indian summer still， in the increased glow of thought and feeling. Probably if our lives were more conformed to nature， we should not need to defend ourselves against her heats and colds， but find her our constant nurse and friend， as do plants and quadrupeds.
The wonderful purity of nature at this season is a most pleasing fact. Every decayed stump and moss-grown stone and rail， and the dead leaves of autumn， are concealed by a clean napkin of snow. In the bare fields and tinkling woods， see what virtue survives. In the coldest and bleakest places， the warmest charities still maintain a foothold. A cold and searching wind drives away all contagion， and nothing can withstand it but what has a virtue in it， and accordingly， whatever we meet with in cold and bleak places， as the tops of mountains， we respect for a sort of sturdy innocence， a Puritan toughness. All things beside seem to be called in for shelter， and what stays out must be part of the original frame of the universe， and of such valor as God himself. It is invigorating to breathe the cleansed air. Its greater fineness and purity are visible to the eye， and we would fain stay out long and late， that the gales may sigh through us， too， as through the leafless trees， and fit us for the winter， —as if we hoped so to borrow some pure and steadfast virtue， which will stead us in all seasons.
风轻轻地低声吹着，吹过百叶窗，吹在窗上，轻软地好像羽毛一般；有时候数声叹息，几乎叫人想起夏季长夜漫漫和风吹动树叶的声音。田鼠已经舒舒服服地在地底下的楼房中睡着了，猫头鹰安坐在沼地深处一棵空心树里面，兔子、松鼠、狐狸都躲在家里安居不动。看家的狗在火炉旁边安静地躺着，牛羊在栏圈里一声不响地站着。大地也睡着了——这不是长眠，这似乎是它辛勤一年以来的第一次安然入睡。时虽半夜，大自然还是不断地忙着，只有街上商店招牌或是木屋的门轴上，偶然轻轻地发出叽咯的声音，给寂寥的大自然添一些慰藉。茫茫宇宙，在金星和火星之间，只有这些声音表示天地万物还没有全体入睡——我们想起了远处（就在心里头吧？）还有温暖，还有神圣的欢欣和友朋相聚之乐；可是这种境界是天神们互相往来时才能领略，凡人是不胜其荒凉的。天地现在是睡着了，可是空气中还是充满了生机，鹅毛片片，不断地落下，好像有一个北方的五谷女神，正在我们的田亩上撒下无数银色的谷种。
我们也睡着了，一觉醒来，正是冬天的早晨。万籁无声，雪厚厚地堆着，窗槛上像是铺了温暖的棉花；窗格子显得更宽了，玻璃上结了冰纹，光线暗淡而静，更加强了屋内的舒适愉快的感觉。早晨的安静，似乎静在骨子里，我们走到窗口，挑了一处没有冰霜封住的地方，眺望田野的景色；可是我们单是走这几步路，脚下的地板已经在吱吱地响。窗外一幢幢的房子都是白雪盖顶；屋檐下、篱笆上都累累地挂满了雪条；院子里像石笋似地站了很多雪柱，雪里藏的是什么东西，我们却看不出来，大树小树四面八方的伸出白色的手臂，指向天空；本来是墙壁篱笆的地方，形状更是奇怪，在昏暗的大地上面，它们向左右延伸，如跳如跃，似乎大自然一夜之间，把田野风景重新设计过，好让人间的画师来临摹。
我们悄悄地拔去了门闩，雪花飘飘，立刻落到屋子里来；走出屋外，寒风迎面扑来，利如刀割。星光已经不这么闪烁光亮，地平线上面笼罩着一层昏昏的铅状的薄雾。东方露出一种奇幻的古铜色的光彩，表示天快要亮了；可是四面的景物，还是模模糊糊，一片幽暗，鬼影幢幢，疑非人间。耳边的声音，也带一种鬼气——鸡啼狗吠，木柴的砍劈声，牛群的低鸣声——这一切都好像是阴阳河彼岸冥王的农场里所发出的声音；声音本身并没有特别凄凉之处，只是天色未明，这种种活动显得太庄严了，太神秘了，不像是人间所有的。
院子里雪地上，狐狸和水獭所留下的足迹犹新，这使我们想起：即使在冬夜最静寂的时候，自然界生物没有一个钟头不在活动，它们还在雪上留下痕迹。把院子门打开，我们以轻快的脚步，跨上寂寞的乡村公路，雪干而脆，脚踏上去发出破碎的声音；早起的农夫，驾了雪橇，到远处的市场去赶早市；这辆雪橇一夏天都在农夫的门口闲放着，与木屑稻梗为伍，现在可有了用武之地，它的尖锐清晰刺耳的声音，对于早起赶路之人，也有提神醒脑的作用。农舍窗上虽然积雪很多，但是屋里的农夫已经早把蜡烛点起，烛光孤寂地照射出来，像一颗暗淡的星。树际和雪堆之间，炊烟也是一处一处地从烟囱里往上飞升。
大地冰冻，远处鸡啼狗吠；从各处农舍门口，也不时地传来劈柴的声音。空气稀薄干寒，只有比较美妙的声音才能传入我们的耳朵，这种音听来都有一种简短的可是悦耳的颤动；凡是至清至轻的流体，波动总是稍发即止，因为里面粗粒硬块，早就沉到底下去了。声音从地平线的远处传来，都清悦明亮，犹如钟声，冬天的空气清明，不像夏天那样多杂质阻碍，因此声音听来也不像夏天那样毛糙模糊。脚下的土地，铿锵有声，犹如叩响坚硬的古木；一切乡村间平凡的声音，此刻听来都美妙悦耳；树上的冰条，互相撞击，其声琤琮，如流水，如妙乐。
大气里面一点水分都没有，水蒸气不是干化，就是凝结成冰霜的了；空气十分稀薄而似有弹性，人呼吸其中，自觉心旷神怡。天似乎是绷紧了的，往后收缩，人从下向上望，很像处身大教堂中，顶上是一块连一块弧状的屋顶；空气中闪光点点，好像有冰晶浮游其间。据在格陵兰住过的人告诉我们说，那边结冰的时候，“海就冒烟，像大火燎原一般；而且有一种雾气上升，名叫烟雾；这种烟雾有害健康，伤人皮肤，能使人手脸等处，生疮肿胀。”我们这里的寒气，虽然寒冷入骨，然而质地清纯可提神，可清肺；我们不能把它认为是冻结的雾，只能认为是仲夏的雾气的结晶，经过寒冬的洗涤，越发变得清纯了。
太阳最后总算从远处的林间上升，阳光照处，空中的冰霜都融化，隐隐之中似乎有铙钹伴奏，铙钹每响一次，阳光的威力逐渐增加；时间很快从黎明变成早晨，早晨也愈来愈老，很快地把西面远处的山头，镀上一层金色。我们匆匆地踏着粉状的干雪前进，因为思想感情更为激动，内心发出一种热力，天气也好像变得像十月小阳春似的温暖。假如我们能改造我们的生活，和大自然更能配合一致，我们也许就无需畏惧寒暑之侵，我们将同草木走兽一样，认为大自然是我们的保姆和良友，她是永远照顾着我们的。
大自然在这个季节，特别显得纯洁，这是我们觉得最为高兴的。残干枯木，苔痕斑斑的石头和栏杆，秋天的落叶，到现在被大雪淹没，像上面盖了一块干净的手巾。寒风一吹，无孔不入，一切乌烟瘴气都一扫而空，凡是不能坚贞自守的，都无法抵御；因此凡是在寒冷荒僻的地方（例如在高山之顶），我们所能看得见的东西，都是值得我们尊敬的，因为它们有一种坚强的纯朴的性格——一种清教徒式的坚忍。别的东西都寻求隐蔽保护去了，凡是能卓然独立于寒风之中者，一定是天地灵气之所钟，是自然界骨气的表现，它们具有和天神一般的勇敢。空气经过洗涤，呼吸进去特别有劲。空气的清明纯洁，甚至用眼睛都能看得出来；我们宁可整天处在户外，不到天黑不回家，我们希望朔风吹过光秃秃的大树一般地吹彻我们的身体，使得我们更能适应寒冬的气候。我们希望藉此能从大自然借来一点纯洁坚定的力量，这种力量对于我们是一年四季都有用的。
