It happened one Christmas eve, when Davy was about eight years old, and this is the way it came about. That particular Christmas eve was a snowy one and a blowy one, and one generally to be remembered. In the city, where Davy lived, the storm played all manner of pranks, swooping down upon unwary old gentlemen and turning their umbrellas wrong side out, and sometimes blowing their hats quite out of sight; and as for the old ladies who chanced to be out of doors, the wind came upon them suddenly from around corners and blew the snow into their faces and twisted their petticoats about their ankles, and even whirled the old ladies themselves about in a very painful way.