Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1861-03-28
A WINTER STORY.

| IN the WinQoWS, causing my mother to con-
| tinualiy change her seat to avoid what she
calls the draught; but as the draugnt comes
| everywhere, she is at length fain to come tc
a settlement close TO the msntel piece, wher,
! she keeps cutting out mysterious hexagon,
and rhomboids from some linen stuff hereaf
ter to be united by cunning fingers into sone
wonderful article of female apparel. NJ,
two sisters are playing chess. Fanny, trium
| phantly over a check mate, leans back OF
her clair, and watches with an air OF proud
| pity the cogitative countenance of Llzzie
| whose little brain is throbbing with thou
sand strataeems by which TO extricate hel
| unhappy queen from the impending disaster
I,wrapped in all the dignity OF nineteen years
! am absolutely smoking cigar in the sacred
chamber Ga privilege awarded TO me on rare
| occasions by my mother, who would generally
dismiss me to my room the moment display.
! ed an Havana), and reading Sir Thomas
Browns poetic essay on Urn Burial. There
| is solemn quiet reigning through the roc III
The pine logs on the hearth fling out spas.
modc jets of fire, and hiss like wounded
snakes, as the bubbling, resinous Juice oozes
ont from each gaping split. The click of my
mothers scissors snaps Inomentunnsly and a,
regular intervals. he wind screams wildly
| outside and ciattels at the window pane, as
ifn was cold and wanted to come in. Through
the dusty paues themselves, half revealed BY
| the partially drawn curtains, giimmer the
snowy uplands, aud onI tie crest OF the ghasfl,
hill bare old oak hits up its Il ,ked arms
like an aged NIobe frozen in an attitude vi
sorrow The suoke OF my cigar goes curling
ceilingward in concentric rings OF evaue, cent
vapor, and am whispering TO IN, self one OF
those sonorous and solemn sentences with
xvh Inh pi nt,rkf ptN pt,.b
his chapters, and which, after one has read
them, rever berate and echo in the brain, when
- rat-tat - there comes faint, irrrsolut,
knock at the door. My mother shuts her
scissors, and looks up Ingu ringly, as much as
to say, WHO in Heavens name is out on d
night like this Z" The chess players are im-
movable, and it seems as if an earthquake
would be a matter OF indifference 10 them.
lay down my Look and go to the door.
open it with shiver and resolution TO be
cross and unclvil; the wind rushes triumph
antly in with great sigh of relief the mo-
ment the first chlnk appears, and l look out
into the bitter, ghastly night.
What strange group stands on the piaZ-
zal Winter seems 10 have become incarnate
in human form, and with the four winds a.
his companions, come TO pay us a visit.
here is tall, old man, with a long, gray
moustachc, which, as il hangs dt wn his ia Us,
the rude wind snatches up, aud swings about
and pulls insolently, as II 1t knew he was
poor and could ba insulted with impunity.
He looks bitterly cold ! His long, arched
nose is as the sky above him, In which The
stars twinkle so clearly, and he has on
scanty little coat, on which few remnants
of braid flutter sadly, like the shreds of a vine
hat hang on walls in winter time, viii b thev
in the golden summer have. wreathed with
glossy leaves so splendidly. He holds a
shiyering child in his arms-a little. shiver-
ing child that trembles most necessarily, and
tries, poor thing, to put Its head in the scan
ty, threadbare folds Of that insufficient coat.
By the side OF this pair is another etigy OF
poverty and winter.
A small, pale, delicate woman, with great,
blue eyes proiuse hair, which, mattel in fro
zen intrIcacles, burst out from most re-
markably shapeess bonnet, a shawl, 50 thin
that 1t mist have been woven y spiders; an
i---- III. -L:----:a. ..LiId oiasn.d ia her
arms and carefully e.,-~I~,,,->I =. - 80,
old shawl, though one can see by her blue
neck and thin dress that she is sacrificing
herself 10 keep the little one warm. A huge
umbrella bangles from one Of her hands. and
which she leans on occasionally with great
dignity, and the ice lcture Is complete. But
the main picture is not yet finished. A girl
about ten years old, standing little back
clings to her mothers skirt with one of her
hands, while with the other she tries TO keep
something that looks like pair of trousers
wrapped round her neck. She is shadow,
and pale, and seems like northern mirage.
ready to dissolve into cold air at a moment 5
notice.
I" Who are you, and what do you all WANT
said, in gruif tone for the wind blew bit
terly on my cheek, and made up my mind
to be cross.
The old man inclined his head slightly and
spoke;
- We are Poles" he said, in excellent
English with slight foreign accent 1--WE
wish to go to Boston, which we hear is but
one days journey from this, but We don't
know where to lodge to-night-we are here
to ask you for rights shelter"
" Pooh !" said |, swinging the door almost
to "we don't know nothing about you've
never admit beggars. We cannot do il"
The man fell back pace or two and look
ed at the little woman. Heavens how full
of despair those great eyes seemed just a.
that moment. l saw his arm hghtened con-
vulsively round the little, shivering child in
his arms. A sluggish, half-frDLen tear rolled
down that bl4e nose of his. He brushed II
away with his cold, shrveled hand, and nod
led mournfuly to the little woman, who
rlutched her umbrella firmly, AMI then turn
ed TO depart without word, As the door
was being slowly closed, he shook his head
oEce twice, aud said in very low tone
God help mel"
These words bad scarcely been sPo' en-
when felt slight touch on my shoulder.
~ "a
people back"
never felt so relieved in all my life
When that old man turned away in silence
at my sudden refusal to his prayer, dsdain-
ing TO address hiuself to me, but whispering
to God Tor mercy, pa of remorse snot
through my. heart | would have given worlds
to have called him back, but the hideous,
sullen pride which has through life chained
up my nature until it has become like coop
ed lear, put paddock on my lips How
glad was when my mother came and dis
solved the bonds with a touch.
"Come back" | said, my friends we
wish to speak with you"
am sure my voice must have really been
very gentle, for as 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 emgrant ship in New
York, with only few dollars in their OsSes-
sion, which had dwindled away to few shl-
lings. They could get no employment-the
old man was a modeler of medallons, a d
said bitterly" They don't care about art in
New York" So they made up their minds
| to go to Boston there they heard that such
things found encouragement. With few
remaining shillings, and what money they
could obtain by pawning their little ward
robe, they had struggled thus far on their
| Journey. They were now pennlless and
scarce knew what to do; but the old man
said proudly-"If we can, only get through
to Boston tomorrow, we have nothing at all
to fear"
My mother shut the door; ty this time