Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1886-03-18
A BREEZE FROM THE NORTH.
A Lady Friend of the Sentinel Tells
About Some New England Weather.
SpeciaI Correspondence of the Sent,nel


Special Correspondence of the Sentinel.
GREENFIELD, Mass, March 1O.-As
we read your accounts of the recent
cold weather South, we wondered if
YOU wouldn't like to know how it
seems up North-not to everybody or
in every place, but from one point of
view to one observer III the Bay State.
Well, in the first place, it seems
just as if we would as soon follow the
Bobolinks to Louisiana and forego all
the shifting splendors of Massachu
setts winter In the next place, it
seems as if the warm places in this life
were not so thick as they may be In
the next and very awfully far between.
Consequently, when we get into one,
nothing but our strong, moral sense
and our mental backbone could in
duce us to give it up. Can anything
illustrate this better than the farmer.
'boy," or "hired help" shivering him
self to sleep in an icy chamber, whose
windows are white with frost? There
is no way to warm the room, guiltless
of any warmth, but the generous sun
light since the farm house was erected.
Awfully small and unsatisfactory or
equally large and unwieldy, in either
case altogether failure, is the soap
stone, ensconced amid the good house
wife's blankets and comfortables; but
weariness and sleep conquer and do
you wonder that the farmers first call
of "Halloe! Ho! Five o'clock" is
invariably disregarded by the sleepy
occupant of the now warm nest in his
fathers bed and blankets? But a
second call brings him to his feet, with
desperate bound into the icy atmos-
phere, and before his teeth are suffi-
GENTLY awake to chatter or his fingers
to chill, his hasty toilet is made and
he is down stairs for his daily douche
of ice-cold water fresh from the pump
or the spring. Out in the fragrant
barn, warm with the dewy breath OF
the cattle, he spreads their breakfast
of hay and -foader-or maybe en-
silage, if the farmer has progressive
ideas-the blinking horses whining
for their oats and the lazy pigs arouse
them for their corn and meal. All
this and usually the milking comes
before the mans breakfast, now smok
ing hot in the farmhouse kitchen, anC
such breakfast! boiled potatoes, frieC
ham and eggs, hot Johnnycake, colo
bread, both wheat and rye, COLDER
butter, yellow cream, fragrant coffee
and nutty doughnuts or perhaps pie
one of the sacred trio mince, squacl
or apple. Perhaps it is now light
| ho Il l.,
in the slow dawning of winter day
but more often he breaks his fast by
lamplight, so as to give the days worl
a fair test.
And now, perhaps he yokes thu
oxen or, clutches up" the "space" ano
taking a substantial lunch, which h,
must eat as it thaws again over {
brush fire, he follows the farmer t,
the woods for whole day chopping
Frozen ears, nipped fingers? o
course, occasionally you know. Thel
there is the ice to be cut from tn
river, ice foot or two in thickness
and stored in the ice-house. Back il
, the country there are the children +
be carried to school from half mil
to two miles distance rain or shine, o
perhaps there comes the snow-witch
festival and all day long the whit
fakes fall slowly at first and few lik
, falling feathers and anon in fleets an
companies and crowding armies foste
t more furious, whirling, swirling, fly
: ing, ruling, rushing, hurrying down
/ and now the wind rises and merr
L rout begins, that deepens into grir
e earnest, and now the winds ARA
e themselves for battle, rushing furious
t ly against the furrying, skurryin.
: crystal hosts.
S They shirk defiance and howl OF
h their rage in vain, for by and by tt
d storm sinks back, exhausted, nerveles
e sullen, to his hollow caves, moanin
y and whining, like beaten dog; y'
e still they come, those silent myrm
# dons, white, white and silent, coverin
n with their snowy pail the helple
e vanguard underneath and wrappin
g in one pale, impenetrable windin
sheet the fallen friend and foema
And now the battle is ended Fewe
they come, stiller, slower and now tt
+. young moon, peeping thro' a mist
= halos in the purple twilight, gilds Wi
her smile the last slow-huttering sno'
+ fake. BELLE.
IL Strange story.
e From the Rockingham Spirit of the South