Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1840-01-06
MISCELLAN ECU S.
From Lights and Shado,cs Of Scottish Life
THE SNOW TORN.
BY THE LATE ARTHUR AUSTIN.

THE SNOW STORM.
BY THE LATE ARTHUR AUSTIN.
"'Tis only from the belief of the goodness and
wisdom of a Supreme Being, that our calamlties
can be borne in that manner which becomes a
man Henry Mackenzie.
In summer there is beauty in the widest moors
ofScotand, and the wayarng man WHO Sis down
far nm hours rest beside some little spring that
lows unhenrd through the Frightened moss and
lter crosses feels his weary heart revived by the
silent sore. e, and solitary prospect. On every
s;de svee, sunny spots of verdure smile towards
him from among the melancholy heather uneX-
nectedlv in the solitude a stray sheep, 1t may be
with lis lambs. starts lalf alarmed at his notion
less figure insects large, bright and beautllul,come
careering by him through the desert ar-nor does
the Wild want its own songsters, the gray lnnet,
fond. of the blooming furze, and now and then the
lark mounting up to Heaven above the SUBMITS
of the green pastoral hills. During such sun =
shiny hour the lonely cottage on the waste seems
to stand in paradise and as he rises TO pursue
his Journey, the traveller looks back and blesses
it with mingled emotion OF delight and envy
There. thinks he abide the children of Innocence
and Contentment the two most benign spirits that
watch over Human life.
But other thoughts arise in the mind of him
who may chance to Journey through the same
scene in the desolaton of Winter. The cold bleak
sky girdles the moor as with belt OF ice-liie is
repose but extinction and should a solitary hu-
man dwelling catch his eye, half buried in the
snow, he is sad for the sake of them whose des-
nv it is 10 abide far from the cheerful haunls OF
men, shrouded up in melancholy, by poverty held
in thra, rpining away in unvisited and unattend'
ed disease.
But in good truth, the heart of human life is
but i'm perfectly discovered from its countennnce,
and before we can know what the summer, or
what the winter yields for enjoyment or trial to
our couutry's pensantry, we must have conversed
with them in their field and by their hresides {;
and make ourselves acquainted with the power
full ministry of the Seasons moi over those objects
alone that feed the eye aud imagination, but over
all the incidents, occupations and events That mod
ify or constitute the existence of the poor
| have a short and simple story TO tell OF the
winter life of the moreland cottager-a story OF
hut one eyeuing-with few events and no signal
catastruphy-but which may haply please those
hearts whose delight it is to think on the humble
under-plots that are carried on in the great Drama
of Life.
Two cottagcrs, husband apd wife. were sitting
by their cheerful peat fire one winter evening, IN
q small lonely hut on the edge of a wide moor, Mt
some miles distance from any other habitHtlon--
There had been, AT 1ae time, several huts OF the
same kind erected close together, and inhabited
by families of the poorest class OF day laborers,
who found work among the distant farms and at
night elurned to dwellings which were rent'tree,
with their little garden won from the waste. But
one family after another had dwindled away, and
the turf built huls had all fallen into ruins, except
one that had always stood in the centre OF this
little solitary village with its summer walls Gov
cred with the richest honey-suckles, and III Tie
midst, of the brightest of all the gardens. Ii alone
now sent up its smoke into the clear winter sky
and it's little end window, now ightedup was the
only ground star that shone towards the beated
traveller fany such ventured 10 cross, on WIN
ter night, II scene dreary nnd desolate. The
affairs of the small household were all arranged
for the night. The lite rough poney that had
drawn in sledge, from the heart of the Black
Moss, the fuel by whose blaze the rotters were
now sitting cheerily, aud the little Highland COW,
whose milk enabled them TO live, were standing
amcably together under cover OF rude shed,
6f which one side was formed 10y the peat stack
and which was nj once byre, and stable, and hem
roost Within, the clock licked cheeruly ms The
fire. light reached its old oak wood case across the
yellow sanded floor and a small round table
stood between, covered with snow white color
edcloth, OF which we're milk and oat cakes, the
morning, mia day, and evening meal of these fra
gal aud cantentcd 'ottGrs, The spades and the
maNocks Of ihe- laborer were collected into one
corner, and showed that the succeeding day was
the blessed Sabhath- while on the wooden Chin
ncy piece was seen lying al open Bible, ready
for family worship.
The father and mother were sitting together
without opening their lips, but with their. hearts
oyer1owng with happiness, for on this Saturday
night, they were, every minute, expecting to hear
OF the latch the hand of their only daughter, n
maiden of about fifteen years, who was AT service
with farmer over the hills. This duliiill child
was, as they knew, to bring home to Them her
sair-worn penny fee, ptance which, in the
beauty OF her grlhood she earned singing at her
work, and which in the benignity OF that slness
time, she would pour with tears into the bosoms
she so dearly loved. Forty sngs year were
all the wages of sweet Hannah Lee but though
Sc wore at her labor tortoise shell comb in her
auburn nar, and though in the kirk none were
more becomingiy arrayed than she, one half, ut
leastso her earnings were to be reserved for the
nobest OF all purposes, and her kind innocent
heart was gladlened when she looked on the lit
tie purse that was, on the opg expected Saturday
night, to be taken from her bosom, and put with a
blessing, into the hand of her father, now grow.
ing old at his daily tolls
'Ofsuch child the happy coters were thinking
in their silence And we'll indeed might they be
called happy. Ii is at that sweet season that fal
piey is most beautiful. Their own Hannah had
Just ouigrown the mere minimizing gladness OF
childhood, but had not yet reached that limc when
inevitable selfishness mixes with The pure current
Of Rye. She had began TO think OH what her af-
.iectionate heart had left 50 long; and when she
looked on the pale iice and banding frame Of her
mother, on the deepening wrinkles and white ling
hairs of her father, often would she lie weeping
for their sakes on her midnight bed-and wish
that she were beside them as they slept that she
might kneel down and kiss them, AMI mention
Their names over and over again in her Dray-
116 HI61klz Uimuiwiuu :,