Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-01-16

The Pleasures OF Winter.

Hawthorne, after spending winter in
Rome declared that thereafter he would,
if possible, pass that inclement season in
some part of the globe where it is recog-
nized as legitimate institution Haw-
thorne has not been the only traveller who
has descanted upon the discomforts of WIN
ter experienced in climate where frost is
but an irregular and uncertain visitor.
Olmsted, in his account of his winter trav-
els in Texas, describes feelingly some of
the sufferings he underwent from the cold
''northers," against which the imperfectly
constructed houses afforded very made
quate protection. Winter, indeed, is only
an affiiction in places or with people
where or with whom there is no suitable
means for guarding against its rigors. To
well-fed, well-housed, well-clothed peo-
pie, winter is as delightful as any other
season Of the year. Its pleasures, of
course, are essentially different, from those
of summer, but they are no less vivid and
no less genuine. Not to mention those
out Of-door sports, such as skating and
sleighing, that are unexcelled by any 9TH
er seasons, it is within doors that the win
ter supplies us with some of its best de-
lights. In summer the hilltop, the brook
side, the garden, the porch, the open win
dow-all places, in fact, that afforded us
quiet and pleasant air, have equal claims
upon our affection; but it is only in winter
that we come to understand the full signi-
ficance of the word home. When the
storm is shaking our easements, and the
night is black and dangerous, then, within
the drawn curtains and around the blazing
fire, we discover how secure, and glowing
and peaceful and rich in affections, are
"hearth and home" just as in spring the
first blossoms give us delight, so in winter
does the fire when first lighted give us
singular pleasure. Perhaps of all our
boyhood recollections those of the old
winters fireside are the keenest and the
most delightful. When the first snow
fall comes this season. let the reader take
down his copy of Whittier's 'Snow-bound,'
and read the poem by the brisk blaze of
cracking logs, with the sound of the out
ward blast reaching his ear in melancholy
menace, and see what a relish the old
fashioned picture will have for him. By
the brisk blaze of cracking logs! Alas
if he reads it at all, in all probability it will
be over the hot air of register, or by the
burnt iron of stove. Firesides and
hearth-stones are things of the past, and
with their departure have gone nearly all
ehC DCSt iuS "a WIuleT-uOIlle.
ern life is surrounded with good many
convcniences, but every innovation in our |
households seems to signalize the death |
of some treasured pleasure. Your fur
mace. no doubt, diffuses an even warmth
through the house, but, in shutting up the
fireplace, it scatters the household and
breaks up the old-time family-circle. 1t |
drives out of the home an artist who was
wont to paint delicious pictures on your
walls, and tint the cheeks of your dear
ones with rare glow. 1t excludes a
friend whose bright, sparkling chatter
once entertained you many long even
ing, and whose blaze and glow rarely
failed to fill your heart with cheerfulness
and gratitude.
There are few old-fashioned people |
who cling to wood fires, bat many of the |
younger generation remain ignorant of
what was once the greatest charm of |
winter-hop'e. Coal" says Ike Marvel, |
''may have its uses in the furnace, which
takes off the sharp edge of winter from
the whole interior of the house and keeps |
up night-and-day, struggle with Boreas
for the mastery, but country-home with
out some one open chimney around which,
in time OF winter twilight when SHOWS are |
beating against the panes, the family may
gather, and watch the fire flashing, and
cracking, and flaming, aud waving.
until the girls clap their hands and the boys
shout in a kind of exultant thankfulness,
is not worthy the name. '-Appleton's
.Tonrn1y