The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1861-12-04
Ashes from the Pipe of am old
Smoker.

lently up from my nut brown meershaum,
loungisg carelessly before the glowing
Goals of my own CRATE, contented and
drowsy under the benign influence of this
aromatic Latakia, | am absolutely indif-
ferent to all my surroundings: 1t is
lazy, but enticingly delightful habit qul-
ct communion with my inmost thoughts,
cogitating and moralizing.
There is winter hurricane out of
doors, and the merry wind is piping shrill
roundelays in the chimney, whistling
cheerily through the keyhole, and dying
away anon in low means that come quiz
erlng in from the starlit night almost
with visible shudder 1t has been
blowing boisterously all day, this same
wind, and little feeces of ragged cloud
have fretted the cold gray blue of the
winter sky, as the fckle squalls fret a
summer sea.
"It's an Ill wind that blows nobody
any good" they say and I'm inclined to
believe it equally true that blows nobody
any harm. Take, for instance, this jolly,
whistling wind, that rushes harmlessly
through the city streets, whirling along
on its wings cloud of sleety snow; sit
ting here before my fire, don't care for
it; | defy it to touch me. But bark
yoader, miles away, where long line Of
white foam marks the dreary coast, do
you hear the great waves come booming
against the black cocks with a sullen
roar? Do you see the white-capped
waves, far out at sea, rocking up into
the night like tottering mountains p
This same jolly wind is the driver that
lashes them to such dangerous and un-
manageable fury, and perhaps the shrill
whistle is not SO charmingly poetical to
the little sailor boy out there among
those waves as it is to you and me, sit
ting by our own home ireside. Poor
little fellow it is his first voyage, his
first storm. Clinging to the mast
drencbed and shiyering, with wild eyes
he watches the laboring vessel as she
climbs up to the summit of each gigan-
tic wave, only to fall creaking and help
less into yawning gulf beneath. Poor
little sailor boy with his Well-thumbed
Bible pressed close to his heart, how his
whole fearful, trembling soul goes out
over the wide waste Of water and land
that separates them in one agouized cry
-"Home. mother" IF you listen, you
will hear that cry, as I do now, on the
next blast that sweeps down the street.
Tell, dark, weather-stained buildings
that hang like giant ghosts over the SUI
burbs Of our large cities, are rocking and
trembling in this night wind, which is
just courteous enough to push open the
doors, and rush with plaintive, mock
ing cry up the rickety stairs into dark,
gloomy apartments where the ere is long
since gone cut. A pile of musty straw
would be an unwelcome bed for you or
ne to night, my friend; brother or sis.
ter Of ours will freeze on such couch
TO- o-night. The wind is bitter cold, but
the freed soul will 60 up on its wings to
a land We have not seen In our dreams
sometimes, radiant land, where no ru-
der wind GENES than the heavy breath of
fragrant flowers and the aroma of ripe,
luscious fruits. And is that all? Will
10 one hear the solemn voice of the Re-
cording Angel ?-"Inasmueh as ye did
il net unto one Of the least Of these, ye
did it not unto me"
"Alas for the rarity of Christian charity"
Never so idly I lounge before my
cheerful FIRE, repleniSh my pipe, and
putting out great columns of smoke, shut
my ears to the cry of want and woe that
CONES on every ftful gust of this winter
wind and yet it may not have been
wholly il vain for me to sit here and NOR
alize; tomorrow some withered, wrink-
led, ragged, thaggy, sad-eyed old man
will come tottering into my ofhes-ons
came to-day, and went away unaided-
and Groom out petition for money to-
buy bread. [ shall shake my head, poins
to the door, think of this siesta, thrust
my hand into my pocket, call him back,
and send the frosty haired old fellow off
with quicker step than he has known
for many day.
If we are not philanthropie enough to
leave our own ruddy freight to night
and go out into the bitter cold on our
errand Of mercy, in the dark old tene-
ment-houses, let Us at least send up ST.
lent, sincere petition to God for the FAM
i5hing, the homeless, the freezing and
those "who go down to the sea in SHIPS"
remembering that Hewho had not "uhers
to lay his head" left this legacy behind
him-"For the poor ye have always With
you. - -GOdey's Lazy Book.
"Boys," said uncle Peter as he exam
ined the points Of the animal, 81 don't