The weather has look'd snowy, for several days past, but has remained, in Statu quo,
till this evening; Which is pretty stormy.
The cherish'd fields
Put on their winter robe of purest white.1
I am not fond of seeing this Robe; there is something so dreary so gloomy, to me,
in looking, all around, to see a dull lifeless sameness, every where, that the first
appearance of snow, is quite disagreeable to me.