 This was such a snow-storm! Twenty miles of it might have been visible at once, between the windows of Tanglewood and the dome of Taconic, had it been possible to see so far, among the eddying drifts that whitened all the atmosphere.  It seemed as if the hills were giants, and were flinging monstrous handfuls of snow at one another, in their enormous sport.  So thick were the fluttering snow-flakes, that even the trees, midway down the valley, were hidden by them the greater part of the time.  Sometimes, it is true, the little prisoners of Tanglewood could discern a dim outline of Monument Mountain, and the smooth whiteness of the frozen lake at its base, and the black or gray tracts of woodland in the nearer landscape. But these were merely peeps through the tempest.