West Virginia daily oil review. [volume] (Sistersville, W. Va.) 1894-1902, 1902-02-01

Hair-sletgh Bells Chant s0Bg Of
semtimsnt ami Fan she soui Of All
WITH icy.
Winter Is still here with her
white Joys. She comes with frost
In her breath and Icy crystals In
her hair, bat her charms are IRE
slstible. There Is music In the
crunching snow. intoxication In
the tinglipg blood. Sleigh bells
chant a song of sentiment. and
glistening stretches Office are pro.
phetic of human wings. Field and
forest beckon the pursuers of wild
things and fill the soul of all with
awe. The home and the freside
are never so dear, and the magical
alchemy of the human heart dis
tills fresh happiness from the boreal
blast, from the white mantle of
mother earth, from the cold cover
Ing of river. lake and pond.
Old age may shiver and count
the cost of coal, bat youth, warm
blood, buoyant of spirit and full OF
an abiding faith In the future, recks
not of stiffened fingers nor Of be-
numbed limbs, but glides gaily
over the smoothed ways and drinks
In joy with every breath. 1t may
be simple coasting with keen rival
ry between the sleds Red Rover
and Swallow. ard there may be ex
element of hooking on" to a bob
sleigh driven by a crusty misar-
thrope ever ready to give heed to
the mischievous warning of "Cut
behind, mister" With maturing
years comes the straw rides. with
its dozan maids and dozen gallants
tucked 10 under blankets galore
add bound for a ten mile trip
by moonlight TO county tavern
with steam;ng oyster stew aud
Drowned roast turkey awaiting the
arrival. What merry testing and
sly squeezing OF hands, what fun
for the. tip over In a snow-drlft,
what a rolllcking zest in singing
Goodbye, My Lover, Goodbye"
Or Good Night, Ladies'" or any
of the favo,ites which give lusty
lungs q fair chance to yell their
joy to the night world! What
would youth be without these sen
timental journeys?
Man dreams eternally of flying,
and winter feeds his fancy. With
clear ringing steel wings he skins
the frozen waters like bird, and
what SO tickling to the human ego
as the humiliation of distance In
this flight across the crystal plains?
In mider moods the soul may be
content with darling hither and
b tier over a confined space, and
here again The eternal feminine ele-
ment may lerd Its enchantment to
the sport. Never Is fire so wei
come as when blazing on the edge
of a skating field and never was the
o. the gods sweeter than
stolen potatoes roasted In such a
FIRE and devoured with skins, ashes
and all.
There are restless spirits who
love to roam far afeld with gun in
hand and dog to the font, seeking
to satisfy the vanity of the human
ego by putting It's cunning against
the Instinct lowered by kind ma
ture upon the birds of the woods
and the beasts of the fields. There
Is perfume In the scent of the woods
and the rhythmic whirr Of The
drumming partridge IS pleasauter
to the senses than the arias Of
Faust" Tie forest Is full of COM
partnership. The snow.clad pines
are mighty sentinels. The beeches
hum a lullaby. Even the wind
swept leaves have a life which
Thoreau has thus Interpreted.
Listen to the sharp dry rustic of
the withered oak leaves This Is
the voice Of The wood. 1t sounds
like the roaring of the sea, and Is
like that, suggesting how
all the land Is seacoast to the aerial
ocean. It IS the sound of the surf,
the rut, tf an unseen ocean-bil-
lows of air breaking on the forest
like water on itself or on sand rocks.
1t rises and falls, swells and ,di. S
away with agreeable alterations,
as the sea surf does. 1t Is remark
able how universal these grand
murmurs are, these backgrounds
Of sound-the surf, the wind Ia the
forest, waterfalls, etc which yet
to the ear and In their origin are es.