It is quite possible we may have formed entirely erroneous ideas of what we actually see. The greenish gray patches may not be seas at all, nor the ruddy continents, solid land. Neither may the obscuring patches be clouds of vapor.
We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth;
it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death. Yet snow is but the mask of the life-giving rain; it, too, is the friend of man, the tender, sculpturesque, immaculate, warming, fertilizing snow.
It was a rich and gorgeous sunset - an American sunset;
and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water among the shadowy copses in the meadow below.