From the December 18 & 25, 1937, issues

NO TWO ALIKE

Snow has such untellable beauty, as it sifts down from gray clouds, or lies glistening under the morning sun after the storm, that we almost forgive the roughness of winter, since he comes with such a gift. Remote still are the February days when we shall think it burdensome; at first snowfall the white flakes are words of silent poetry, marvelous in their likeness to one another, yet infinite in their variety.