Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-01-12
y To his SentUf.

4M ~
Cold and frozen Winter is with us again.
Gid mother earth looks sad and
dreary the green sprigs of grass we walked
over, and the rosy flowers we pluckcd, have
withered and died. Where the little lambs
and played around their bleatinz
dams, cropping the juicy grass and slipping
the dew, has grown white and dazzling with
the spotless snow. Adown the long slope
where the mower swung his keen, ringing
scythe, the little sleigh Of the happy school
boy glides like an arrow, and the rolicksome 4
fellows yell of triumph comes echoing across
the whitened fclds-musical with perfect
joy-despising the achievements of steam,
hundreds of fur-lincd sleighs, filed with
happy youths and coy maidens, drawn by
richly caparisoned horses, loaded withrine.
ing bells, pass us like darling swallows. and
a smile gathers on our faces as we think Of
their happiness-and of the solicitude with
which Mat-and that1ittle hand is souee,.d
beneath the heavy rsbo by heavy hearted
SWANS.
We sit by our warm fire and give ourved
up to thought. We look out upon the lon,
arms Of the old oaks, motley and gray with
age. The greenness and vigor of youth ba.
lett them and they look hoary and in trouble.
And we think of the coming of age-Old
age and its drearincss. The old lords Of the
forest bow beneath their burthens of ice and
creak and moan as if weary of life. Tho
cold wind shrieks a wild alarum around our
dwelling. and We stir the pile of cracking
logs on our hearth to mako them blaze NOR
rily and drive dull care away. Darkness
falls like { curtain upon the earth, and the
voice of man. and beast. and fowl ceases
nouSht is heard above the wild careering Of
Nature. Cold and frozen Winter is surely
with US in all its terror, dear Senior; for
, hist! the icy pebbles SHOT from the cloud.
battery on high rattle sharply against our
1 window-pattering in their merry dance up.
/, on the CLASSY earth.
We draw nearer to the fire, and give ear
to the old cricket in the wall that chirped the
n same melody for Us when We were = boy; lis.
tening to his ehangeless ode, We 90 on with
? our reflections:
. First, of the thousands indulging in tho
3 pleasures of life in the gildcd saloon of fash.
, ion and wealth, careless and thoughtlcss Of
pain, of anguish and Of sorrow.
Then of the rich man w~orshipping his
shining gold and ringing silver, thoughtless
and deaf to the Wild c~arousal Of Winter with.
out his iron-bound doors
= Then of the fashionable Church-coers scat
# edin their gorgeous temples ofdevotion, view
&c ing their images in the mirrors, and admir-
ing the Aeatncss of their church, the wealth
IL and dignity Of their fellow worshippers anc
re- the polish of their minister.
e Then we think Of al the blessings enioyec
I'll by carth's sons and daughters even in mid
winter, and our heart whispers to US, bles
# God for Winter /!
And then we think of the poor-ah! tn
4 poor! We must not forget the poor. You
TX dear Senior, remember that poor widow stand
Vt ing, shivering on the frozen pavement, wit
O. a thin withcred hand extended asking a
aims, and a clear tear slowly stealing il
way down her pallid eheek-a single fOaI
or drop t~rickling along from furrow to furrov-
lg bright and clear as if ready to CONCEAL TO
e single icy gem and CLEAN on her cheek :
nt GOD help the widow, the orphan, and til
poor, everywherel
st We think of the rich in their palaces an
the poor in their novels; of the rich in tbei
churches and the poor shivering on the street
ID begging an aims and a measure Of meal. q
the rich beneath STORED urn and marble mon
ument, and of the poor in the Potter's Fiel
g. and along the highway trampled upon b
7 the herds of the hills; of the solemn narean
u try and mockery Of woe attending the ricI
mans funeral, and Of the lone thistle tba
shakes its petals upon the grave that no on
watches thinks of these things. Senior
:. and says in his heart. GodniEAq-
" Poor. naked wrctches, wheresoe' er Won are.
IS That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides.
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend Won
From seasons such as these 2"
All yes, God, pity the poor. And pit,
the rich that cannot pity the poor, and learr
: the rich luxury of drying up a singh,
tear!!