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Zany left a large circle of sorrowing friends； if not relatives。 Gypsy； I think；
never entirely recovered from the shock occasioned by his early demise。
She became fonder of me； though； and one of her cunningest
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demonstrations was to escape from the stable…yard； and trot up to the door
of the Temple Grammar School； where I would discover her at recess
patiently waiting for me； with her fore feet on the second step； and wisps
of straw standing out all over her； like quills upon the fretful porcupine。
I should fail if I tried to tell you how dear the pony was to me。 Even
hard； unloving men become attached to the horses they take care of； so I；
who was neither unloving nor hard； grew to love every glossy hair of the
pretty little creature that depended on me for her soft straw bed and her
daily modicum of oats。 In my prayer at night I never forgot to mention
Gypsy with the rest of the family…generally setting forth her claims first。
Whatever relates to Gypsy belongs properly to this narrative； therefore
I offer no apology for rescuing from oblivion； and boldly printing here a
short composition which I wrote in the early part of my first quarter at the
Temple Grammar School。 It is my maiden effort in a difficult art； and is；
perhaps； lacking in those graces of thought and style which are reached
only after the severest practice。
Every Wednesday morning； on entering school； each pupil was
expected to lay his exercise on Mr。 Grimshaw's desk； the subject was
usually selected by Mr。 Grimshaw himself； the Monday previous。 With a
humor characteristic of him； our teacher had instituted two prizes； one for
the best and the other for the worst composition of the month。 The first
prize consisted of a penknife； or a pencil…case； or some such article dear to
the heart of youth； the second prize entitled the winner to wear for an hour
or two a sort of conical paper cap； on the front of which was written； in tall
letters； this modest admission： I AM A DUNCE！ The competitor who took
prize No。 2。 wasn't generally an object of envy。
My pulse beat high with pride and expectation that Wednesday
morning； as I laid my essay； neatly folded； on the master's table。 I firmly
decline to say which prize I won； but here's the composition to speak for
itself。
It is no small…author vanity that induces me to publish this stray leaf of
natural history。 I lay it before our young folks； not for their admiration； but
for their criticism。 Let each reader take his lead…pencil and remorselessly
correct the orthography； the capitalization； and the punctuation of the
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essay。 I shall not feel hurt at seeing my treatise cut all to pieces； though I
think highly of the production； not on account of its literary excellence；
which I candidly admit is not overpowering； but because it was written
years and years ago about Gypsy； by a little fellow who； when I strive to
recall him； appears to me like a reduced ghost of my present self。
I am confident that any reader who has ever had pets； birds or animals；
will forgive me for this brief digression。
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CHAPTER Twelve
Winter at Rivermouth
〃I guess we're going to have a regular old…fashioned snowstorm；〃 said
Captain Nutter； one bleak December morning； casting a peculiarly nautical
glance skyward。
The Captain was always hazarding prophecies about the weather；
which somehow never turned out according to his prediction。 The vanes
on the church…steeples seemed to take fiendish pleasure in humiliating the
dear old gentleman。 If he said it was going to be a clear day； a dense sea…
fog was pretty certain to set in before noon。 Once he caused a protracted
drought by assuring us every morning； for six consecutive weeks； that it
would rain in a few hours。 But； sure enough； that afternoon it began
snowing。
Now I had not seen a snow…storm since I was eighteen months old； and
of course remembered nothing about it。 A boy familiar from his infancy
with the rigors of our New England winters can form no idea of the
impression made on me by this natural phenomenon。 My delight and
surprise were as boundless as if the heavy gray sky had let down a shower
of pond lilies and white roses； instead of snow…flakes。 It happened to be a
half…holiday； so I had nothing to do but watch the feathery crystals
whirling hither and thither through the air。 I stood by the sitting…room
window gazing at the wonder until twilight shut out the novel scene。
We had had several slight flurries of hail and snow before； but this was
a regular nor'easter。
Several inches of snow had already fallen。 The rose…bushes at the door
drooped with the weight of their magical blossoms； and the two posts that
held the garden gate were transformed into stately Turks； with white
turbans； guarding the entrance to the Nutter House。
The storm increased at sundown； and continued with unabated
violence through the night。 The next morning； when I jumped out of bed；
the sun was shining brightly； the cloudless heavens wore the tender azure
of June； and the whole earth lay muffled up to the eyes； as it were； in a
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thick mantle of milk…white down。
It was a very deep snow。 The Oldest Inhabitant （what would become
of a New England town or village without its oldest Inhabitant？）
overhauled his almanacs； and pronounced it the deepest snow we had bad
for twenty years。 It couldn't have been much deeper without smothering us
all。 Our street was a sight to be seen； or； rather； it was a sight not to be
seen； for very little street was visible。 One huge drift completely banked
up our front door and half covered my bedroom window。
There was no school that day； for all the thoroughfares were
impassable。 By twelve o'clock； however； the great snowploughs； each
drawn by four yokes of oxen； broke