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Updated: June 21, 2025
For the first time he made himself believe that she would go. And there, hand in hand, they would follow his boyhood footprints over the meadows and through the hills, and he would gather flowers for her in place of the mother that was gone, and he would tell her all the old stories of the days that were passed. It was the snow-man!
We made enormous snow-balls by beginning with a small one and rolling it over and over in the soft snow till it waxed too vast for our strength; two or three of these piled one on another would be sculptured by the author of The Scarlet Letter into a snow-man, who would stand stanch for weeks. Snow-storms in Lenox began early and lasted till far into April.
Until late that night Billy sat beside his campfire with the snow-man. Strange and new thoughts had come to him, and among these was the wondering one asking himself why he had never built a snow-man before.
"You are as cold as my snow-man in the court-yard! Won't you come out to-day for half-an-hour?" And his hands, in truth, were always ice-like, even though the hearth was heaped with blazing logs. "Not to-day, petite," he would reply. "It is too bleak for me and besides, you see, I am writing." It was his invariable reply.
The snow-man was gone from his vision home and hope. He had never been hurt as he was hurt now. He was yet awake when the moon passed far over his head, sank behind the wilderness to the west, and blackness came. Toward dawn he fell into an uneasy slumber, and from that sleep he was awakened by Pierre Couchée's voice.
The sun went down, the full moon rose, large, round, clear and beautiful, in the dark blue sky. 'There it is again on the other side! said the Snow-man, by which he meant the sun was appearing again. 'I have become quite accustomed to its glaring. I hope it will hang there and shine, so that I may be able to see myself. I wish I knew, though, how one ought to see about changing one's position.
Do you know who they are? 'Do I know them indeed? answered the yard-dog. 'She has often stroked me, and he has given me bones. I don't bite either of them! 'But what are they? asked the Snow-man. 'Lovers! replied the yard-dog. 'They will go into one kennel and gnaw the same bone! 'Are they the same kind of beings that we are? asked the Snow-man.
The Snow-man, however, was not listening to him any more; he was looking into the room where the housekeeper lived, where the stove stood on its four iron legs, and seemed to be just the same size as the Snow-man. 'How something is cracking inside me! he said. 'Shall I never be able to get in there? It is certainly a very innocent wish, and our innocent wishes ought to be fulfilled.
I had my own pillow, and there was a stove there, which at this time of year is the most beautiful thing in the world. I used to creep right under that stove. Ah me! I often dream of that stove still! Bow-wow! 'Is a stove so beautiful? asked the Snow-man. 'Is it anything like me? 'It is just the opposite of you! It is coal-black, and has a long neck with a brass pipe.
A warmth that was not of the fire leaped into his face, and he gathered up the softened snow, raking it into piles with a snow-shoe; and before Isobel's astonished and delighted eyes there grew into shape a snow-man almost as big as himself. He gave it arms and a head, and eyes of charred wood, and when it was done he placed his own cap on the crown of it and his pipe in its mouth.
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