New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1860-03-05

erent feet have .crs-ees % - :. ,.--,.--.
The marks whe9s H. ~ ';,., lne oazzlhg snow.
hoped across Il 49, alsie IedDleasIs nave
not solitary the ;sS a n;:s. siaDss ana yes Y Y
presses downi1v IA ~ s.hEs urge, 1ne snow
over Il and silyers Il With 5a se sweeps
of heaven no single tbne hi ybss sae srcn
HYMN sung To ftsnrns 49,. to- ~ "has has SONG
tr1re $40 HePs oyef y ny re-
The poor usher resumes h;s III, ..u.., ... +
he has far to go Inc cola + y tor
deeper, yet he pressea m ~ ~ s.e .n1H
small flask in tie uoekef n n. ns g hnd
this he sips drop II branu ~ III v1sL ION
litte) and then piods on. III aa Sos, w VIZ
the distance il vet consideraSas ~ s - aaue
ious. s.o"' ' AnA'
At length the moor dips downward INF, ~. 81 I
ley, and beyond this Ia the higher hissps~ III ,a
iier moor, across which iies ths sfst; N 49,
to reach through The valley swesns cot $3.50
power, and here stands lie woi,drons mil 4
which daily work three thousand people. emnIov.
ed by John Fielding, the great Cotton IA ~
the mighty giant Of spindle and mule sieer,s todsu
the fires are low and labor rests her hands Sans
mile from the mill the mansion Of the cotton Ina
stands embosomed in woods, and here at The foot
of the fell j. cluster OF cottages.
Descending te one Of these, he asks woman
standing at q door the nearest way to the opposite
fell
F" Why, cross the beck By the bridge, and take
the road before tnee. But eh, SIR its coming
on wild night for the m00rs; and now I'm think.
ing, if you 80 by Grayatores- Mi. FieIdings park
anem there--yon,d ma # more shelteredlike, and
a bit higher still. You can't miss the way If ye
keep this side the beck to the mill then cross It.
and PIT Deyond gct INTO the park BY stie; the
path then u take you by raystone .pool-a mighty
piece Of water. ~ frozen over ncw-and towards
the end leaps up the way 70 the moors. You can't
miss II, though IT'S coming on wild nigh, fear
Gray hurries on, passes tne mil, the milLhandsf
cottageS-almosL al OF tnem tenanffeas to-day
finds his way TO the pool and 30 TO ifs furthest side
nearest the moor. AS he approaches the road
leading thereto, ne sees man dressed az servant,
standing on the bank as though attending three OF
four boys, who are skating up and down the pool.
They are all Of them fine. athletic lads, and Gray
knows them 70 De ms oid Drawing puplls the Field
ings. Though ne mas no intention OF approaching
them, for tney are skaang some distance ron
where he has to turn of, he cannot refrain from
staying moment TO watch them. As ne does 30
bell at the hall rings loud and clear it, echoes
are taken up in the solemn moors, and reechoei
back again.
Gentlemen" calls the servant, +" there Is tht
first dinner-table; you had better return now"
They prepare as it seems to obey, BY skating to
wards the shore; and Gray turns away, not willing
to be recognized and detained, for he feels desc
late and low in heart. For him no welcoming
poets him. Snow before him, snow behind him
q sad and solemn Christmas day to him! Yet ths
SHOWS of winter hide the buds of spring, and ont o
our sorrows our truest joys are oftenest born.
He has turned his face and his steps away from
the pool towards the moor, when crash, followed
by awful cries, met big ear. Looking round, hurry
ing towards the pool he sees that the talest youth
IN skating towards the shore, grounded dangerous
ice; it cracked, and he fell through. he is nov
struggling in the water-his head above it, his
hands battling with the ice; whilst his brothers,
fastening to his rescue, seem in peril too. The
poor demented servants coward, perhaps, by
nature-stands on the shore, wringing his hands
and shouting
At dozen athletic bounds Gray has reached the
spot. In another moment he has thrown off his
coat, hat and knapsack.
Stephen Walter! Falkland ~ he calls /" don't
attempt that; I'll come to Harry's rescue" Even
whilst he speaks he dashes his way across the ice,
goes through IT. is in the pool; not minute too
soon-the lad is spent, and benumbed with cold,
is sinking.
" A brave heart, Harry hand here-there,
now my arms around you-bear up. I'm Gray,
your old drawing-master." Holding the lads head
above water swimming dexterously, battling with
the ice, in an anxious moment or two he has
reached the shore. Having needed Gray's warn
ing, the other boys are safe, too, and now crowd
round.
Harry is not much the worse" said Gray,
kindly, as the spent and benumbed lad leans on him
and begins to recover. a" near chance; but
drop of brandy, with run home and warm bath,
will set him all right. Walter, feel in my coat
pocket, you'll find my brandy flask it holds but
drop, but it'll do good.h So saying, when the
flask is found, Gray makes Harry take what it
holds, and then hurries HIM OF home.
But you'll come, Gray?n says Stephen, who is
the next eldest to Harry, papa will never forgive
us, ii You dont,t come, after having saved us our
dear Harry. We always liked you, Gray, and
were talking OF you this very morning. Come on
you're dripping like dog
=" Thank you: 1want to be at 49, station by
o'clock tonight, and at Leeds Tomorrow; SO l
can't. have dry undergarments in nay knapsack
here, which / can change in that fodder shed
yonder. Goodbye, | want to cross the moor be-
fore it is too late.s
I. The moor, Gray! Why, you'll have hard
fight with the snow. Our shepherds report it as
very deep. But why are you tied for few
hours ~
~ have left Tubbs; taught too fast for him
but if reach Leeds by tomorrow may get a tu-
torship; for there was an advertisement relating
to one in the last paper. So run home, Stephen
I'll write to you thence"
Gray does not stay for any reply; but, sezing
his coat and knapsack hurries to the distant shed;
here he changes his shoes and neither garments,
and then to get warm, sets of on run, as soon as
he has dressed and swung his knapsack on. Up
the snowy road, by the moorland crags, on to the
moor itself-a wide, wild waste OF whtenea desc
lation.
Yet some traffic through the day marks the road
sufficiently for it to be easy to fnd whilst light
lasts aud the snow holds off; so he keeps on at a
rapid pace for the whole distance now to ira
verse is but some six miles, and he IS not without
hope that it will be easily effected. But presently
the snow drifts get deeper. and BATTLE him more
and more at every step. >Ihe clouds charged with
snow bring day suddenly to close; and at last it
begins to snow heavily, as though the clouds had
burst. Still he keeps his way, not without hope.
But when the road becomes more and more indis-
tinct, when the snow comes down heavier and
heavier still, when the rising wind whris it round
and round, when the cold becomes SO intense as to
benumb him. even whilst ne IS moving and regrets