Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1856-02-12
STAR
A WINTER STORY


mascus scimetar cuts through the fine chinks
In the windows, causing my mother TO contiu-
tinually change her seat, TO avoid what she
calls the draught; but as the draught comes
everywhere, she is at length fain to come and
settle close to the mantlepiece, where she keeps
cutting out mysterious hexagons and rhom-
boids from some linen stuff, hereafter to be
united by cunning fingers into some wonderful
article Of female apparel Ny two sisters are
playing chess. Fanny, triumphant over q
| checkmate, leans back in her chair, and
watches with an air Of proud pity, the frown-
ing and cogitative countenance of Lizzie;
whose little brain is throbbing with thous and
stratsgems by which to extricate irer unhappy
queen from the impending disaster l, wrap
| ped in all the dignity Of nineteen years, and
| absolutely smoking cigar in the sacred
chamber, "a privilege awarded to me on rare
occasions by my mother, who generally dis
missed me tony room the moment Idisplayed a
| Havana,) and reading Sir Thomas Brownies
poetic essay on Urn Burial. There is solemn
quiet reigning through the room. The pine
logs on the hearth fling out spasmodic Jets Of
| fire, and hiss like wounded snakes, as the bub-
bling roslnous juice oozes out from each gap
ing split The click of my mothers scissors
snaps monotonously, and at regular intervals
The wind screams wildly outside, and clatters
| at the window pane, as if it was cold and
wanted to come in. Through the dusty panes
| themselves, half revealed by the partially
drawn curtains, glimmering whitley the snowy
| uplands and on the crest of the ghastly hills.
a bare old oak lifts up its naked arms, like an
| aged Niobe frozen in an attitude Of sorrow
The smoke Of my cigar goes curling ceallng-
| ward In concentric rings of evanescent vapor,
and am whispering to myself one of those
| sonOrous and solemn sentences with which the
| old Knight Of Norwich terminates his chapters
| and which, after one has read them, reverber-
IN md hn sn h. L
there comes a faint, irresolute knock at the
hall door My mother shuts her scissors, and
looks up inquiringiy, as much az tosay, 'EWho
| In Heavens name Is out on night like this.''
Inc chess-players are immoyablc, and seems
as if an earthquake would be matter of per-
feet Indifference to them. L lay down my
book and go to the door. I open il with a
| shudder, and resolution to be cross and un-
civil; the wind rushes in triumphantly, with
great sigh Of relief, the moment the first chink
| appears, and L look out into the bitter ghastly
| night.
What a strange group stands on the piazza
Winter seems to have come incarnate in hu-
man form, and with the four winds as his
companions, come to pay US a visit.
There is a tall old man, with long, grey
| moustache, which, as it hangs down his Jaws.
| the rude breeze snatches up, and swings and
pulls insolentlY, as if it knew he was poor,
| and could be insulted with impunity He
looks bitterly cold His long, arched nose is
| as blue as the blue sky above him, in which
| the stars twinkle so clearly, and he has on a
scanty little coat, on which few remnants of
braid futter sadly, like the shreds of vine
that hang on walls in winter time, which they
| in the golden summer had wreathed with
glossy leaves so splendidly. He holds little
child In his arms-a little, shivering child,
that trembles most necessarily, and tries poor
| thing, to put its head under the scanty and
| threadbare coat. By the side Of this pair is
another effigy Of poverty and winter. A small,
pale, delicate woman, with blue eyes-profuse
hair, which matted in frozen intricacies bursts
out from beneath a most remarkably shape
less bonnet, shawl so thin that it must have
been woven by spiders; another little shiver-
ing child in her clasped arms, and carefully
! enveloped in the poor old shawl, though one
could see by her blue neck that she was sacri-
ticing herself to keep the little one warm. A
huge umbrella dangling from one of her
hands, and which she leans on occasionally
with great dignity, and the icy picture is COM
plete. But the main picture is not yet finish
ed. A girl about ten years old, standing a
little back, clings to her mothers skirt with
one hand while she tries to keep something
that looks like pair of trousers wrapped
around her neck. She is shadowy and pale,
and seems like northern mirage, ready to dis
solve into cold air at a moments notice
WHO are you, and what do you wantp" I
said in grutf voice, for the wind blew bitter
ly on my cheek, and / made up my mind to
be crofs.
The old man inclined his head slightly, and
spoke.
1--WE are Poles," said he, in excellent Eng
lish, with slight foreign accent; "we wish
TO 60 TO Boston, which we hear is but one days
journey from this, but we do not know where
to lodge tonight. We are here to ask you
for a night shelter
"Pooh" J" said l, swinging the door almost
to, "we know nothing about you, and never
admit beggars. We cannot do ito
The man fell back pace or two, and look
ed at the little woman with the great eyes.
Heavens how full of despair those great eyes
seemed just at that moment L saw his arm
frightened cOnvulsiVely round the little shiver
ing child in his arms sluggish, half-frozen
tear rolled slowly down that blue nose of his
He brushed it away with his cold shrivelled
hand, and nodded mourhfully to the little wo-
man, who clutched her laumber firmly, and
then turned to depart without a word. As the
door was being slowly closed, he shook his
head once or twice. and said in very low
voice, "God help me-
These words had scarce been spoken, when
l felt slight touch on my shoulder.
"John," said my mother, Z" call those peO-
pie back"
L never felt SO relieved in all my life When
tnat OlQ man away III sllence at my
sudden refusal of his prayer, disdaining to ad- |
dress himself to me, but whispering his mercy
to God, pang Of remorse shot through my
heart I would have given worlds to have
called him back, but the hideous sullen pride
which had through life chained up my nature
until it had become like a cooped bear, put
paddock on my lips. How glad was when
my mother came and dissolved the bonds with
a touch.
"Come back" said 1, "my friends; we
wish to speak with you %
am sure my voice must have been really
very gentle, for the old Pole turned his
rugged cheek seemed to soften, and the great
eyes of his pale wife actually flashed through
the dim night, with the fire Of hope. They
had landed from an emigrant ship in New
York, with only few dollars in their posses.
sion, which was dwindled away TO a few shil- |
lings. They could get no employment Tue
old man was a modeler of medalions and
said bitterly, They don't care about art in
New York" So they made up their minds
to 60 to Boston; there, they had heard, that
euch things And encouraoamapt yV;tb