Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1869-11-11
A Good Word for Winter.
by JAMES Russell LOWELL.

think the old fellow has hitherto had
scant justice done him in the main. We
make him the symbol of old age or death,
and think we have settled the matter. As
If old age were never frosty, but kindly too;
as if it had no reverend graces of its own as
good in their way as the noisy impertinence
of childhood, the elbowing self conceit of
| youth or the pompous medlocrity OF middle
life As if there were anything discredita-
BILE in death, or nobody had ever longed for
it Suppose we grant that winter is the
sleep of the year? take it upon me to say
that his dreams are finer than the best reality
Of his waking rivals
"sleep Silence, child, the father of soft rest"
is very agreeable acquaintance, and most
of US are better employed in his company
than anywhere else. For my part | think
winter pretty wideawake old boy, and his
bluff sincerity and hearty ways are more
| congenial to my mood, and more whole
sJme for me, than any charms of which his
rivals are capable. Spring is tickle mis-
| tress, who either does not know her own
mind, or is SO long of making it up, whether
| you shall have her or not have her. that one
gets tired at last of her petty mitfs and re-
cancellations. \ ou go to her to be cheered
| up a bit, and ten to one catch her in the
| sulks, expecting you to find enough good
humor for both After she has become Mrs.
Summer she grows little more staid in her
demeanor and her abundant table, where
| you are sure to get the earliest fruits and
vegetables of the season, is good founda-
tion for steady friendship but she has lost
| that delicious aroma Of maidenhood, and
what was delicately rounded grace in the
| girl gives more that hints Of something like
| rebundance in the matron. Autumn is the
poet of the family. lie gets you up a splen-
dor that you would say was made out Of real
| sunset but it is nothing more than a few
hectic leaves, when all is done. lie is but
a sentimentalist after all; kind of
Lamartinc whining along the anccs-
| tral avenues he has made bare timber
| of, and begging contribution Of spirits
from your own savings to keep him In coun-
tenauce. But winter has his delicate sensi-
| bilities, too, only he does not make them az
good as indelcate by thrnsting them forever
in your face. lie is u better poet than Au-
tumn, when he has mind, but, like truly
great one as he is, he brings you down to
your bare manhood, and bids you under
stand him out OF that, with no adventitious
helps of association, or he will none of you.
| He does not touch tEose melancholy chords
on which Autumn is as great a master as
Heine. Well, is there no such thing as
drumming on them and maundering over
| them Till they get out ol tune, ana you WISH
some manly hand would crash through them
and leave them dangling brokenly forever !?
Take Winter as you find him, and he
turns out TO he thoroughly honest fellow,
with no nonsense in him, and tolerating
none in you, which is a great comfort in the
long run. He is not what they call genial
critic but bring n real man along with you,
and you will find there is a grabbed gener-
osity about the old cynic that you would not
exchange for all the creamy concessions OF
Autumn. "Season of mist and mellow
fruitlulness," quotha? That's just it, Win
ter soon blows your head clear Of fog and
makes you see things as they are thank
him for it The truth is between ourselves,
l have very good opinion of the whole
family, who always welcome me without
making me feel as If were too much of a
poor relation. There ought to be some
kind of distance. never so little you know,
to give the true relish. They are as good
company, the worst oftbem, as any know
and am not little ilattered by conde-
cension from any one of them; but hap.
pen to hold Winters retainer, this time, and
like an honest advocate, am bound to make
as good showing as | can for him, even
if il cost u few slurs upon the rest of the
household. Moreover, Winter is coming,
and owe would like to get on the blind side
of him. .-Attdntic Almanac for 1870.