The empty carriage is close to the curb-stone, with the door swinging open as if to urge the owners to hurry and take possession.  The high-stepping trotters are covered with blankets to protect them from the piercing cold, and, with their heads drooping, are either asleep or wondering why they are not put into the stable to take their night’s rest; and the coachman is dancing about on the pavement to keep his feet warm—­not by any means a merry kind of dance, although he moves about pretty briskly.  He has taken off his gloves, for they seem to make his hands colder, and now he has thrust one hand into his pocket and is blowing on the other with all his might.  His whip, that curled so defiantly in the air, is now pushed under his arm, and the lash is trailing, limp and draggled, on the stones.  He is warmly clad, and his great-coat has three capes, but all cannot put sufficient heat into his body, for it is a bitter cold night, and the wind comes howling down the street as if it would like to bite off everybody’s ears and noses.  It shakes the leafless branches of the trees until they all seem to be moaning and groaning together.  The moon is just rising over the church, and the coachman is standing right in a broad patch of its light.  But moonlight, though very beautiful when you are where you can comfortably admire it, never warmed anybody yet.  And so the poor coachman gets no good out of that.

There is a party in the great house.  The boy is standing where he can only see the lower steps and the tall lamps, but the coachman can see that it is lighted from garret to cellar.  He knows that it is warm as summer in there.  There are stands of flowers all the way up the stairways, baskets of them are swinging from the ceilings, and vines are trailing over the walls.

Who in there could ever guess how bleak and cold it is outside!  Ladies in shimmering silks and satins, and glittering with jewels, are flitting about the halls, and floating up and down the rooms in graceful dances, to the sound of music that only comes out to the coachman in fitful bursts.

He has amused himself watching all this during part of the evening, but now he is looking in at the side-light of the door to see if there are any signs of the breaking up of the party, or if those he is to take home are ready to go away.  He is getting very impatient, and let us hope they will soon come out and relieve him.

GEYSERS, AND HOW THEY WORK.

[Illustration:  THE GRAND GEYSER OF ICELAND.]

Geysers, or fountains of hot water or mud, are found in several parts of the world.  Iceland possesses the grandest one, but in California there are a great many of these natural hot fountains, most of which throw forth mud as well as water.  Some of the American Geysers are terrible things to behold.  They are generally found near each other, in particular localities, and any one wandering about among them