Columbia Democrat and Bloomsburg general advertiser. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1850-1866, 1858-02-06
Snowy Memories.
The snow, tho suow--it comes, it comes
| see itfalling, falling"

The SNOW, The suow--it comes, it comes
| see itCallng, falling"
What visions Of by gone joys are con-
jurod at sight of the falling snow. Yon-
der stands tic little, old school house,
with is mud-chinked sides exposed to the
blasts of winter. And there is the foot
worn play ground, With It's bright memo
ries cf shinny-sticks, and bats and balls,
and hosts of romps and games to occupy
our leisure hours. There, too, is the din
gy school room garnitured in all the glory
of paper wods and dusty cobwobs. How
oft we've whiled away a tedious hour
watching the merry antics of harlequin
spider, balancing his little gray body on
his gossamer threads, in vain search after
some unlucky fly.
And there, too, is the grim school mas
ter, with his hickory rod and there are
the smiling, ruddy-faccd companions of
our boyhood all ranged before and around
US, each one intent upon putting in the
hours Of study to tie shortest, if not the
best possible advantage. Some are carv-
ing fantastic figures on the rude, wooden
benches, or making outline sketches in
slate pencil, perhaps not according to the
most approved rules of art, yet sufficiently
outrc and comic to excite u merry laugh,
and bring down the masters hickory on
our shrinking backs. Others, again, are
indulsing in sly winks, and smiles, at the
pretty little misses, or inditing amorous
efusions, and whisking them quickly into
The profered aprons of their swcatharts,
when the masters back is turned.
All these, and a thousand other gay
fancies-yisiops of snow-balls flying through
the attaching fingers and faces washed
with snnw-hand sled rides adown the
slopng hill side, and merry skating par
ties on the CLASSY surface Of frozen pond
and river, are all fresh in our minds at
sight Of the falling snow. Oh when fa-
tigued by our prison discipline how our
little hearts have frightened up, as we have
gazed through frosted window-pane, at the
/ first broad, white fakes, descending like
noiseess spirits to the earth. Oh how oft
we have gazed on those feecy fakes, all
mingled together in wild profusion, until
lost in 6oyish fancics We build thousand
air castles for the future, when that tabled
( twcnty-one, would release US from imagi-
ned tyranny of the dread school master
Alas! how oft since then, when graphing
with the stern realities of life, "wo wished
we were child again"
School-bOy days! they come to our
mind like sweet, and pleasant dream ot
the past. Cherish them, young friends,
they may be the best and happiest of your
life. Had you but a tithe of the expert,
onco OF manhood to guide you, the pursuit
of knowledge, even in the yillage school
room, would be esteemed ore of lie high
est privileges Of your existence. Young
friends, the time will come when you will
look back to those days as diamond spots
in The past and all the bright drcames Of
the future you once ndulgcd, will be dull
and cherries in tie retrospect, You may
now envy the pleasures of manhood, and
think it happy thing to glide DER the fro
zen snow behind noble steed, in COSY
sleigh, muillcd up in furs, with a pretty
maiden by your sido--you may envy their
merry laugh and smiling faces, but you
will live to see all these fancied Joys, like
the beautiful apples Of Sodom, turn to dust
and ashes on your lips. Sill, let it snow
Let those who can, enjoy the jingling bells,
and the laughing maiden, and all the joys
the ice-clad Monarch brings in his train
To Que and all We wish a pleasant, Joyous
Winter; even though our only music be
the jingling of types, ard the noise and
clatter of the press room.