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The Golden Windows by  Laura E. Richards





O NCE on a winter day, a man walked to and fro under his garden wall. "What a glorious day this is!" he said to himself. "The snow sparkles in the sun like pearl and diamond, the air is frosty yet genial, the whole world is full of life and vigor. It is good to be alive on such a day."

Presently he saw his brother passing by on the other side of the road. He looked blue with cold; his teeth chattered, and his head was drawn down between his shoulders as if in the face of something bitter.

When the man saw him, he cried out, "How now, brother? why do you look so ill at ease on a day like this, a day that fills one with the very wine of life?"

"I look ill because I am so!" replied the other. "The cold plucks at my very [34] heart, and the north wind pinches the marrow in my bones."

"Wind!" said the first man. "I feel no wind."

The other threw him a glance. "No!" he said. "If I were in a walled garden that took the sun, maybe I should not feel it either."

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