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Thirty below freezing! It was inconceivable till one stepped out into it at midnight, and the first shock of that clear, still air took away the breath as does a plunge into sea-water … But for the jingle of the sleigh-bells the ride might have taken place in a dream, for there was no sound of hoofs upon the snow, the runners sighed a little now and again as they glided over an inequality, and all the sheeted hills round about were as dumb as death.


This is from “In Sight of Monadnock” in Letters of Travel, 1892-1913. The young Kiplings,  newly married, had just stepped out of the New York train,  in Brattleboro, Vermont, at midnight.

This week, it has been a little warmer in Brattleboro at midnight,  twenty below.