Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1883-12-28

hoary frost of heaven who hath gendered
it?"
The day is fast drawing to its close, the
fury OF the snowstorm has increased and
now mixed with rain the freezing winds are
piling it up against our window and pelting
the panes of glass. How melancholy the
sound Looking out, no paths appear to be
broken; the old, dry limbs Of the trees in
the yard stand out stiff and stark against the
cold sky, defying the storms and the cheer
less winds; the shadows of the coming night
are gathering faster, and thicker falls the
big white flakes of snow; the storm is grow
ing in violence and with it that sense of
solitude which comes over one when the
snow stretches on every side, over hill and
valley, and there is no sign of human life,
and we feel that we stand alone above the
dead earth, and in the immeasurable space
above us are worlds unseen and inaccessible
We draw nearer the window only To realize
that
'Tbe day is gone, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As feather Is waited downward
From an eagle in its flight.
see the lights of the village
Clean through the rain and the mist,
And feeling of sickness comes DER me
That my soul cannot resist"
We have cloeed the window shutters, let
down the curtains and drawing closer to the
fire feel that winter is reigning prince DER
these regions. What an unwelcome guest
he is in some dwellings as he thrusts himself
in and seats himself at the very hearthstone,
and looks coldly and sadly into the eyes Of
the poor, and lays his icy fingers on their
hearts None the less unwelcome is he in
some more comfortable dwellings, where
with harsh aspect he stands guard over pri-
soners who are signing for pleasures far
away
les, white, is with u.s. How different il
seems from last Summer Then we had
birds and flowers in the garden, and friends
in the house; but now the garden is buried
in frigid shroud and our friends are far
away. When We were boys, two or three
months as they passed over our heads seem
ed like an eternity. What is ii now? I'm
mersed AS we are in the anxieties and small
irettings Of life, the seasons pass us, and
--"Overcome US like Summers cloud
Without our special wonder
We indulge the idea that it is better in
the hours of wiuter--the long hours Of the
-sinter niglt-t8 nave near yorsseloved
friends dear 10 the memory aud the heart
when you recall the scenes and Impressions
OF the past. Memory is grand and noble
git to the heart that feels that the "liying
present" is not enough to claim its regards
and draw forth in its full strength the treas
ure of its full sympathy. Many persons live
in the present hour with its joys and sor-
rows, its successes and misfortunes, with no
thought of the road they have travelled
npon-no glance Of the path which they
have yet 10 tread Many abandon the pres
ent and the iutnre--to live again in the past,
which they construct for themselves, separat-
ing, however, the sunlight from the shadow. |
Seen thus through the haze of memory the |
angles melt into roundness, the nude obsts-
cles III the path passed over disappear, and,
like mountain wrapped in the river mist
nothing but the beauty remains--with thai |
rafer beauty invented by the Imagination.
As regards ourself, we love TO wander
down the aisle of memory. but we never
separate the bitter from the sweet. We 4
patse alike al those spots where sunshine
and shadow lie. We have lived long enough
W know that life is crowded with disap.
poiniments--thai sorrow is ever close upon
the heels Of JOY. We have often observed
spnn9lny from the cliffs OF barren rocks
brighter and sweeter flowers than those
which ever gracel the brow of beauty or
rested upon the bosom OF bravery-so these
dark spots which res, along the pathway of
life may contain the germ Of some noble as.
pirsiion, some better and stronger resolu.
lions aud other and more durable Joys.
Not even an hour ago as our eyes rested
upon The public highway which is imlnedi.
Ately in front Of our window--we asked
"urseli the question that since the building
"i that road how many gay and happy we'd
ding parties had passed DER its rough
snrisee like fair ships which leave trail of
iighi and foam in their track and how many
funerals have gone too. the real mourners,
Who press white handkerchief 70 their eyes
and mink the sunlight black, aud The yari.
Gus but ever mOnotonous accompaniments
Of death. And then when you have gone
back behind all-behind the funeral, behind
the wedding party, and seen the young girl
in the first bloom of her pure and innocent
life give her hand to one she loves. when
you have seen the beginning which is joy
and rapture-and the end which, after all
words of consolation and hope, is despair,
perhaps you may ask with suffused eyes that
question which has so deep meaning
what is liley" Does not the clod upon the
lid shut out. when little time has passed.
that strong and terrible grief which we
dreanh would he the horrible bosom friend
OF our existence, and yet did we not wonder
that on that quiet day when "ashes 10
ashes, dust To dust" came from the clergy
mans lips, the lark could sing 50 ioyously
close by, the sparrow hop and twitter so
csreiessy on the boughs which threw their
shadow on the grave-and finally the breeze
as il came from the woodlands trembling
with the odor Of wild flowers. did il not
seem 10 linger. and taking the voice Of joy
and despair, Of happy meetings and sever
lasting iarewels." say 10 you. I'VE work to-
gether for an end" 1t has been written that
the world is full Of wings, and every one
broad enough to bear sunbeam and strong
enough 10 fling il into some dim window,
some glocsay room, some dark heart strewn
with old hopes asd damp with new tears.
10 some OF our meditAaise moods, we have ,
sometimes thought it was NO great thing
after all to he human. Mind is great Thing. ,
.bnt there is so much Of sorrow, anxiety and {