Hillsdale Whig standard. (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1846-1851, 1851-02-04
ausic of Winter.
BY n P. WILLIS.

| love to listen TO the falling snow. 1t is
unobtrnisve and sweet music. You may tenn
per your heart to the serenest by Its low
murmur. 1t is that kind OF music that only
intfudos upon your ear when your thoughts
come anguidly. You need not hear it if
YOUR mind is'not idle. 1t realizes my dream
of another world, where music is lntutive
like thought, and comes only when 1t Is
remembered.
And the forest too has melodious, min
strelcy,' you will near its crystal shoot IN the
dead of a clear night, as if the moon beams
were splntering-arrOws on the ground; anu
YOU listen to il more earnestly that 1t is the
going on OF one OF the most # natures deep
mysteries. | know nothing so wonderful as
the shooting of a crystal Heaven has ND
den its principle as yet from the lnquisltlvs
eye OF the philosopher, and we must be con.
tented 10 gaze OH its exquisite beauty, ana
listen in mute wonder Ia the notes OF its in
visible workmanship. 1t is to find knowl-
edge for US. W shall comprehend II when
wo know how the morning stars sang to-
gether
You would hardly look for music in the
drcariness OF early winter. But before the
keener frosts set in and while the warm winds
arc vet stealing back occasionally like re-
ycnts of the departed summer, there will
come a soft rain or heavy mist; and when
the north wind returns, there Will be drops
suspended like earring jewe!s between the
filamonts of the silver tassels, and in the
featherly edges or the Ozark green hemlocks,
and ifthe clearing up is not followed by
heavy wind thoy will all be frozen III their
places like well set gems. The next morn
ing the sun comes out, and by the middle OF
calm dazzling forenoon, they are all loosened
from the close touch which sustained them,
and will drop at the slightest motion. IL you
20 along up the south side OF the wood at
that hour you will hear music. The dry 10
liape of the summers shedding is scattered
over the ground and the hard round drops
ring out clearly and distinctly as they are
shaken down with the stirringof the breeze.
1t is something like the running OF deep and
rapid water, only more iitiul and merry; but
to ono who goes in nature with his heart
open, it is a pleasant music, and IN contrast
with the stern character Of the season, de-
lightful.
Winter has many other sounds that give
pleasure to the secker Of hidden sweetness;
but they are too rare aud accidental TO be
described distinctly. The brooks have Il sui.
len and mutiied murmur under the frozen
surface, and ice in the distant river heaves
up with swell of the current and falls back
with prolongued echo, and the woodman's
axe rings cheerfully out from the bosom Of
the unrobed forest. These are, at best how
ever, but melancholy sounds, and like thai
cheerloss season, they but drive III the heat
upon itself. ] believe it is SO ordered in
heavens wisdom We forget ourselves in
the enticemcnt of sweet summer. Its mu-
sic and its loyeliness win away to the scenes
that link up the affections, and need hand
TO turn Is back teoderly, and hide from US
the outward idols in whose worship we are
forgetting the higher and more spiritual al
tars.