Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1875-04-08
Tales and $ketehes.
THE HIGHLAND SNOW STORM.
BY JOHN WILSON.

In summer there is beauty in the widest
moors in Scotland, and the wayfaring man
who sits down for an hours rest beside
some little spring that flows unheard
through the frightened moss and water
crosses feels his weary heart revived by
the silent, serene, and solitary prospect.
On every side sweet sunny spots of ver-
dure smile towards him from among the
melancholy heather, er,-unexpectdly in the
solitude a stray sheep, it may be with its
lamb starts half alarmed at his motionless
figure, insects large, bright. and beauti-
full come careering by him throug the des-
ert air,-nor does the Wild want its own
songsters, the gray linnet, fond of bloom
ing furze, and now and then the lark
mounting up to heaven above the SUBMITS
OF the green pastoral hills. During such
sunshiny hour, the lonely cottage on the
waste seems to stand in a paradise; and
as he rises to pursue his journey, the trav.
eller looks back and blesses it with min
gled emotion of delight and envy. There,
thinks he, abide the children of Innocence
and Contentment, the twomost benign
spirits that watch over human life.
But other thoughts arise in the mind OF
him who may chance to journey through
the same scene in the desolation of winter.
The cold bleak sky girdles the moor as
with belt of ice,-life is frozen in all
and on earth. The silence is not of re.
pose, but extinction; and should solita-
ry human dwelling catch his eye halt
buried in the snow. he is sad for the sake
of them whose destiny it is to abide far
from the cheerful haunts of men, shroud-
ed up in melancholy, by poverty held in
thrall, or pining away in unvisited and un-
tended diseases.
But, in good truth, the heart of human
life is but imperfectly discovered from its
countenance and before we can know
what the summer or what the winter
yields for enjoyment or trial to country's S
peasantry. we must have conversed with
them in their fields and by their firesidcs,
and made ourselves acquainted with the
powerful ministry of the seasons, not over
those objects alone that feed the eye and
the imagination. but over all the incl
dents, occupations, and events that modi-
fy or constitute the existence of the poor.
| have short and simple. story to tell
of the winter life of the m0orland Gotta
ger,-a story but of one evening.-with
few events and no signal catastrophe, a.
but which may haply please those hearts
whose delight it is to think on the humble
under plots that are carrying on the great
Drama of Life.
Two cottagers, husband and wife. were
sitting by their cheerful peat fire one win
ter evening, in a small lonely hut on the
edge of a wide moor, at some miles dis
tance from any other habitation. There
had been, at one time, several huts OF the
same kind erected close together, and in
habited by families of the poorest class OF
day-laborers, who found work among the
distant farms, and at night returned to
dwellings which were rent free, with
their little garden won from the waste.
But one family after another had dwindled
away. and the turf-built huts had all fallen
into ruins. except one that had always
stood in the centre of this solitary village,
with its summer walls covered with the
richest honeysuckles. and in the midst of
the brightest of all the gardens. IL alone
now sent up its smoke into the clear win
ter sky; and its little end window, now
lighted up, was the only groundstar that
shown towards the belated traveller, if
any such ventured to cross, on winter
night, a scene so dreary and desolate.
The affairs OF the small household were
arranged for the night The little rough
pony that had drawn in a sledge, from the
heart Of the Black-moss, the fuel by
whose blaze the cotters were now sitting
cheerily, and the little Highland COW
whose milk enabled them to live. were
standing amicably together, under cover
of a rude shed, of which one side was
formed by the peat-stack, and which was
at once byre and stable and henroost.
Within the clock licked cheertully as the
freight reached its old lakewood case
across the yelow-sanded floor; and Il
small round table stood between. covered
with q snow.white CLOTH on which were
milk and oat cakes, the morning, midday,
and evening meal of these frugal and
tentented cotters. The spades and the
mattocks of the laborer were collected in-
to one corner, and showed that the sue
ceeding day was the blessed Sabbath ;
while on the wooden cmmney-picce was
seen lying an open Bible ready for family
worship.
The father and the mother were sitting
:"ge,hcr without opening theit lips, but
with their hearts overtiowing with happi-
ness; for on this Saturday night they
were. every minute, expecting to hear at
the latch the hand of their only daughter
IL maiden OF about fifteen years, who was
at service with farmer over the hills
This dutilul child was, as they knew, to
bring home to them "her sairwon penny
fee," a pittance which, in the beaaty of hel
girlhood. she earned singing at her work
and which, in the benignity of that sinles
time, she would pour with tears into tht
bosoms she so dearly loved Forty shl
lings year were all the wages of swee
Hannah Lee; but though she wore at hel
labor tortoise she'll comb in her auburn
hair. and though in the kirk none were
more becomingly arrayed than she, one
half at least, of her earnings were to be
reserved for the holiest OF all purposes
and her kind innocent heart was glad
dened when she looked on the little purse
that was, on the long-expected Saturday
night, to be taken from her bosom, ant
put. with blessing, into the hand of hel
father, now growing old at his daily tolls
OF such child the happy cotters wer,
thinking in their silence. And well in
deed might they be called happy. 1t is a
that season that filial piety is most beauti
full, Their own Hannah had Just outgrow