Litchfield enquirer., 1861-04-04
Alisfellal,p.
A WINTER STORY

A coiu nlgnI! ] ne WlnO, as snarp as la imascus scimetar. cut through the fine chinks ally change her seat to avoid what she calls the draught; but as the draught comes every. where, she is at length fain to come to settle ment close to the mantle-piece, where she keeps cutting out mysterious hexagens and rhom- boids from some linen stuff, hereafter to be united by cunning fingers into some wonderful article of female apparel My two sisters are playing chess. Fanny triumphantly over a check-maue, leans back on her chair, and watches with an air of proud pity the cogita- tive countenance of Lizze, whose little brain which to extrieate her unhappy queen from the impending disaster, I, wrapped in all the digni- ty of nineteen years, am absolutely smoking a cigar in the sacred chamber Ia privilege awarded to me on rare occasions by my mother, who would generally dismiss me to my room the moment I displayed an Havana), and read ing Sir Thomas Browns poetic essay on Urn Burial. There is a solemn quiet reigning through the room. The pine logs on the hearth fling out spasmodc jets of fire, and hiss like wounded snakes. as the bubbling, resinous juice oozes out from each gaping split. The click of my mothers scissors snaps momentuously 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 re- vealed by the partially drawn curtains, glimmer the snowy uplands, and on the crest of the ghastly hill a bare old oak lifts up it's naked arms like an angel Niobe frozen in an attitude of sorrow. The smoke of my cigar goes curl ing ceiling ward in concentric rings of evanes- cent vapor and l am whispering sentences with which the old knight of Norwich terminates his chapters, and which, after one has read l to oho in hal hpoi ,bo,, --rat-tat-there comes faint, irresolute knock at the door. My mother shuts her scissors, and looks up inquiringly, as much as to say, "Who in Heavens name is out on night like this? The chess players are im- movable, and it seems as if all earthquake would be matter of indifference to them. I lay down my book and go to the door, open it with shiver and resolution to be cross and uncivil the wind rushes triumphanty in with great sigh of relief the moment the first clink appears, and look out into the bitter, lghastly night.
 What strange group stands on the pzza Winter seems to have become incarnate in human form and with the four winds as his companions, come to pay us visit.
 There is tall old man, with long, gray moustache, which, as it hangs down his jaws the rude wind snatches up, and swings about 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 "s the sky above him, in which the stars twinkle so clearly and he has on scanty little coat, on which few remnants of braid fu;ter sadly ike the shreds of a vine that hang on walls in winter-tme, which they in the golden summer have wreathed with glossy leaves so splendidly. He holds a shivering child in his arms "a little, shverng child that trembles most incassently and tries, poor thing, to put it's head in the scanty, threadbare folds of that insufficient coat. By the side of this par is another efhgy of poverty and winter.
 A small, pale, delicate woman, with great blue eyes profuse hair, which, matted in frozen intrcacies, burst out from most re- markedly shapeess bonnet, Q shawl, so thin that it must have been woven by spiders another little, shverng child clasped in her arms and carefully enveloped in the poor, old and thin dress that she is sacrificing herself te keep the little one warm. A huge umbrella dsngles from one of her hands, and which she leans on occasionally with great dignity, and the ice picture 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 rouEd her neck. She is shadowy and pale, and seems like northern mirage, ready to dissolve into cold air at a moments notice.
 "Who are you, and what do you all want? I said, in gruffy voice; for the wind blew bitter ly 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 Eng fish with slight foreign accent; "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 a nights shelter"
 "Pooh P said I, swinging the door almost to "we don't know nothing about you've never admit beggars. We cannot do it."
 The man fell back pace or two and looked at the little woman. Heavens how full of de spair those great eyes seemed just at that mo. ment saw his arm frightened convusively round the little, shivering child in his arms A sluggish, halffrozen tear rolled down that blue nose of his. He brushed it away with his cold, shriveled hand, and nodded mourn fully to the little woman, who clutched hel umbrella firmly, and then turned to depart without word. As the door was being slow ly closed, he shook his head once or twice, and said in very slow tone-" God help me!'
 These words had scarcely been spoken when I felt slight touch on my shoulder.
 :. George" said my mother, =" call those peo ' pie back"
 F never felt so relieved in all my life. When 5 that old man turned away in silence at my sud y den refusal to his prayer, disdainng to address himself to ne, but whispering to God for mercy ! ! pang of remorse shot through my heart .' would have given worlds to have called hin back, but the hideous, sullen pride which hai !. : through life chained up my nature until it has U become like cooped bear, put paddock on my : lips. How glad was when my mother came and dissolved the bonds with touch. T "Come back" said, "my friends; we wsl ! to speak with yOu."
 am sure my voice must have really beer . very gentle, for as the old Pole turned, his rug . red cheek seem to soften, and the great eyes O 2 his pale wife actually flashed through the din night with the fire of hope. They had landed Q from an emigrant ship in New York with enly f few dollars in their possession, which hal : dwindled away to few shillings. They coul' get no employment-t old man was modele z of medallions and said bitterly" They don ;. care about art in Now York. So they made u their minds to go to Boston; there they hear that such things found encouragement With
 few remaining shillings, and what money tEe e could obtain by pawning their little wardrobe t they had struggled thus far on their journey n They were now penniless and scarce knew wha f. to do; but the old man said proudly ly-" If W 't can get through to Boston tomorrow, we hay a. nothing at all to fear"
 IS My mother shut the door by this time the T. were on the inside, and Fanny and Lizzie ha le left their game of chess, with their poor quee Ii, sti1l in and tho yols