The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1877-12-22
9 christmas Storp.
From Harper's Magazine for December.
Many Leaves and Few Grapes,
THE RIVERS HARVEST OF LEAVES.

1.-THE RIVERS HARVEST OF LEAVES.
"a man in the riyerl'
Who had uttered these words2 Surely the
whisper was one of those poison seeds waited
by Rumor from night aud darkness to chill
The brightness of glorious Christmas morn,
ing.
The hills had not yet freed their peaks from
lhe early mists, although this haze had les.
sened to transparent gauze tissue, silvery
and delicate, with the distant outline of an
occasional snow crest visible. The city of
Florence, bathed in light extended along the
valley The white marble facade of Santa
Croce glistened like a mask of fresh youth on
crumblng age. Giotto's Campanile, the
towers Of the Bargello, and the Palazzo Vec.
chic raised their slender shafts above adjacent
walks, while the cathedral expanded its bulb
Of stately dome behind the UHizi and many an
ancient building crowned with open loggia.
On the height, Michael Angeles bronze Da-
yid received the golden baptism of SUNRISE
standing on his pedestal in the centre of the
piazza, with those stern sentinels Dawn and
Twilight grouped about his feet The gilden
fresco of San Miniato CLEANED above the sol.
emn frs and cypress-trees which guard its
sepulchres. Bellosguardo aud the Monte
0lireto had awakened to lifo before the warm
tide of light flowed on TO the wide reach of
open country, where the windows Of many a
villa sparkled like jewels; and beyond the
mountain barrier lay Pisa, the ancient, wrap
ped ever in sleep. All hearts must needs re-
spond to the charm Of this unfolding morning,
when the city rested in the embrace of her
sheltering hills. Nature acquired the most
tender hnes: pellncid clearness of sky al
most crystalline in purity; the amethyst and
sapphire tints of the horizon toward Vallom-
brosa merged to faint rose flush in the oppo-
site direction; the soft gray slopes of olive
orchards and the vivid green Of other luxu.
RANT shrnbbery extended below. To live
amidst such elements Of matchess beauty was
to be happy.
Florence smiled on all her living children,
with her dead treasured carefully from sight
in tomb and chapel. On these also she had
smiled years and centuries ago in her dawns
glowing moons, fiery crimson sunsets, and
calm nights when the moon softly Illuminated
the wide piazzas, converting Baptistery,
church, and gate to edifices Of silver aud snow
set in deep black shadows.
The river Arno caught this early bright.
ness; its surface reflected the palest azure of
the heavens, and still retained in more dis.
tant curves the gold and opal tints impaired
by sunrise. The stream was swollen to its full
limits by recent rains, although it had lost
the first yellow tinge Of the raging floods which
swirl along from the country, bearing loose
soil and trees on the tide. Twin destinies,
these-cty and river. Both smiled and
sparkled in the Christmas sunbeams. The
promise of the day was waited on every breeze
and foretold in the chime OF every belfry.
Christ was born How the masters reioiced
to repeat the familiar story Traced in the
rich pageantry Of the Riccardi Chapel by Be.
nozzo Gozzoli; traced in many shadowy
chancel by Ghirlandajo, the industrious; traced
by Fra Angelica in his eloister of st. Mark,
his colors borrowed from angelic choirs.
Christ was born The Arno sparkling, the
hills veiled in that Aeeting silvery mist, the
solemn heights Of San Miniato and Oliveto,
the growing radiance of town awakening to
, the activity Of an Italian fete. day--alI found
utterance IN the church bells. A birds song
trilied forth from an open easement on the
bank; child's laughter noated from some
hidden garden.
"a man in the riverl''
Who had said it TO chill the blood on such
q joyous Christmas-day
Something had fallen from the Ponte ALE
Giraffe into the water, with dull splash. A
woman opening her easement had uttered a
shrill scream at sight of 1t. At last the river
had clutched its prey, and the cruel depths
made sport OF the wreck cast on its bosom,
while the surface still wore the pale blue re.
iiected from the sky. The Thing was sucked
down out OF sight Tor moment, then reap
peared, bnheted by the current, which bore
1t along with incredible swiftness toward the
second link in the chain Of bridges, the Ponte
Vecchio, with the quaint shops of the gold.
smiths and the royal gallery OF the Pitt Palace
extending to the Ufiizi, across stream. The
tide whirled through the arches, bearing the
Thing triumphantly onward To hurl il against
the piers of the Trinita Bridge graceful arch
OF masonry restored by Taddeo Jiaddi The
Lung Arno Accia Juoli was succeeded by the
Lung Arno Corsini and the Ponte allie Car.
SIM and the Pontealle Carraja; then the Thing
emerged into the open space Of stream, nm.
fetted by bridges, save for the modern sus.
pension structure in the distance, and the new
quarter with its spacions houses extended to
the Cascine gate.
Faces peered over paraPets, helplessly il
sympathetcaly the Thing had passed be.
yond the reach Of human help, aud become
the rivers prey. Across the width of Arno
weir broke The force Of the current, where the
waters, curbed, gushed over the dam in a
toaming wave. Inevitable as doom the Thing
floated toward this gulf, and in pausine on
the staooth lip of brink, revealed itself fully
for the first time. A dead man, with tangled
hair, was held poised by the sparkling river
for an instant, his face uptnrned to the blne
sky and the sunshine: the next moment he
was dashed into the Kissing, boiling waters,
out Of sight. Was this the end No the
suicide re'appeared, and in genter mood the
river bore him down beneath the susnens;on.
bridge, where men waited in boat to drae
thy Corpse ashore. A poor mortal driven 10
y pair by lack Of work, by need OF bread ?
~ ut all. A youth OF noble family, whose
quipage dashed through the line Of Carriages
yesterday in the opposite Cascine, and Who
sSlaay sees iit g hnrl himself out Of the world
elnb--a woman frown; who can teIlY Since
his birth the river had lain in wait for him, bid
ing It's time in dwindling summer drought, IN
angrytumultof springAood, markingth years
iimpereepubly, noiselessIy, from the time the
dimpled baby hands first stretched toward The