Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-04-30
March---NOrth and South.


No month in the whole year is so trying
to persons not over-strong, or whose throats
or lungs are somewhat sensitive to cold,
bleak winds and wild storms, as the month
of March, at the North. At no other time
is the wind so penetratiug-cutting through
the thickest clothing, as if searching for
some unguarded spot where it might send
the sharpest pain or do the most permanent
injury. Those who watch the Winter days,
half impatiently, as minute by minute they
lengthen, and long for the Spring, when
they may hope for softer Winds the singing
of the birds, the tender green buds starting
from tree and shrubbery, often find in March
their fond anticipations dispeled, and feel
themselves thrown back into the lap of
Winter--for
"Strong ash and sturdy chestnut,
Rough oak and poplar high,
Stretch out their sapless branches
Against Wintry sky"
And the eager watcher looks and listens,
almost hopeessly, to learn if
Zone stray note Of music
May sound in all the land.
"Why art thou mute, o blackbird?
Oh, thrush, why dost not sing?
Ali how impatient, waiting
Waiting for the SPRING."
Now and then bright warm day cheers
the restless watcher, but only for a few
hours. The icy hand of old March still
battles with the sun, again and again re.
news the fight, and often, for days that seem
iuterminable, reigns the conqueror. But
toward the end of this rough and savage old
month, the sun, step by step, begins to gain
the ascendancy-though even through the
smiles and tears of April, and the equally
tickle month of May, the sturdy old blusterer
still gives some sharp blows, refusing to ac-
knowledge a defeat
During all this most disagreeable month
and, indeed, till he quite gives up the con-
test and retires from the feld-the house
keepers time, strength and patience must
be taxed TO the uttermost. The broom,
dust-pan and duster are in constant requisi-
ton. The housekeeper who can pass through
the Northern month of March without
frown, an impatient word or once losing her
temper, cannot be long for this world aud
richly deserves to be canonized.
ooh, March, thy days are darksome,
Oh, March thy nights are drear,
But soon shall streams OF sunshine
Proclaim the turning year
Soon shall the trees be leafy,
Soon every bird shall sing:
They now are SILENT waiting
Waiting for the Spring
But are we dreaming Or have we SLAM
dered the much abused month of March
For two-thirds of this month we have been
sheltered under the grand old oaks that for
a century or more were the shrines of the
Spaniards-the banqueting-pavilion of the
French-the council-chambers of the Indian
and now the pride of industrious and
thrifty Americans. Here, in March, we are
breathing the perfumed air and growing
strong by feasting on the luscious oranges
freshly gathered from trees laden with their
fruitage and their flowers at the same time.
Here, in March, we are gathering roses and
wild flowers-eating Strawberries peas, and
all Summer vegetables. Discarding the
Winter garments still needed at the North
we sit by open windows, or out on the walk
watching the brilliant, moon-lighted st.
Johns that flashes before us.
Is this true story ? Nay, verify, we
scarce believe it, so vividly do we recall the
severity of the weather we left behind us.
1t seems scarce a day since we sat in our
Northern parlor, with large furnace we'll
heated aud blazing fire in the CRATE, yet
with fingers so benumbed with cold that we
could scarce hold our pen. The little ones,
warmly cloaked and hooded, running in
from the snow, half-crying with the piercing
| fruits aud flowers, of gaudy attire, of open
windows moonlight walks-needing neither
shawls nor bonnets We rub our eyes-they
surely are wide open. We step on the YER
anda and feel the bright, warm sun, and see
the rich, glossy, green leaves and golden
| fruit all about us. From our window we
see the mocking-birds, and hear them COM
peting with the red-brd for the leadership
of this voluntary choir,
Yes, this is all true-a wide-awake state
ment, plain, unvarnished tale. And what
shall we say of the wisdom of Northern
friends who linger, when March is still
"What the warning ancients strangely styled
| The months Of iodr ~ II In their fierce life
Were any months OF pedcei When in its rough days
Winds clash and clang, and broken boughs
Are piled beneath the withering trees"
To be sure, not satisfied with making our
Northern friends suffer, March sometimes
sends threatening blast down, even to the
verge of the tropics. Their slightly-built
houses tremble at his coming. The doors
and windows creak and rattle the waters
of the full rivers rush to the shore as If
affrighted. He tosses the giant limbs of the
old oaks in his rude play the gray moss on
the branches, like disheveled hair, flies in
all directions, and for an hour or two-per-
haps day-there is some excitement, but
no fear. The power of March cannot hold
long here but in the moment in which he
seems to have taken full possession, the sun
blazes out and sends the assailant back to
worry only those who remain in subsection.
Over those who choose to remain in Florida
till June he has no power.
Mandarin, Florida.