The Washington herald., 1914-03-08
THE SOUNDS OF WINTER.
~ EMORY J. HAYNES.

Put your ear down near the ice on
the river. The sounds of cracks can be
heard. thousands Of feet away from you,
perhaps. The cracking from contraction
is audible all about you. There is a
peculiar ringing. half musical. cadence
to il, as the movement travels on till it
comes to its far-off end. Freezing also
has its sounds, a delicate and indescrib-
able murmur that is like no other of
natures many voices. If there is sleigh
ing on the frozen river, the sharp, crisp
stroke of the horses steel-shod feet
can be heard, as you bend to listen, two
or three miles away.
Then along the Hudson there is a
grinding of the tide as il lifts and low
ers the shore ice. Standing out on the
river, by night and under its starlit
silences, this tidal noise is weird and
ghostly. AS if the uplifted cakes of ice
were in rebellion, and calling to each
other, softly, to rise and 'hght the in
vading tide
The familiar and loved naples on the
lawn complain in the cold. Though the
air is breathless, still the sharp crack
or the smothered moan of the branches
startles YOU. The wind arises and trees
roar their protest loudly. 1t is such a
different noise from the wind sounds in
city street Always the silence of a
rural landscape is noticed in contrast
with the traffic echoes Of the town. But
when the carpet of snow muffles all
sounds it might almost be said the very
stiffness becomes audible. Into this ST.
lence the far-away sleigh bells bring
music that is a surprise. Especially that
old-fashioned bell with generous throat
and tongue which the farmer likes and
clings to yet. For jolly sleigh ride
there are no other bells like the old,
big Puritan kind. Bells that mark each
step of the plunging horses. Bells that
might almost do to hang in a church
steeple.
The railroad train does not rumble,
but passes with hiss. The locomotive
whistle is not melodious and echoing as
in summer. but is thin and sharpened
to scream. 1t docs not travel far down
the valley and up the hillsides, but
pierces the air with an unfriendly alarm
There are alarms in the very house.
The frost draws a nail in the floors oi
some disused room, and If one is sit
ting to read late the crack of that frost
drawn nail seems an intruder's pistol
shot Indeed. who has not done some
hard thinking'to explain the house noises
of a cold night? Every iron thing. a
stovepipc. a wall brace, takes to creep
ing and family lamenting with unwont-
ed noises. So the old house complains
OF these and talks to itself of summer
days. One breads to wake up at mid
night and listen to the frost noises. For
tunately it is not needful to lie long
awake in the exhilarant air OF well:
opened winter chamber. For, different
from a summer nights sultriness, the
winter induces the best sleep of all the
year.
Probably you will dispute me, but |
have actually heard the noise of the
sunrise. in the blushing East. Does the
sun rise with a sound: have thought
so. for through the deathlike quiet, as
the darkness was being rolled up, there
was a rustling as OF curtains. Maybe
it was my boot that creaked in the dia-
mond snow, every football musical. Yet
il NAV be that such wheels as are in
the wheeling sun and turning globe made
clatter of big machinery.
A winter daybreak has no songs OF
birds, no whisper OF leaves, no voices
of the farmers driving cattle to pasture
So that il the sun rises with a noise
one has the chance TO hear it. This
much at least is true. that every step
you take along the path is with a sound
1t is certain, too. that the rich blood OF
health goes coursing through the veins
till, when you stop for breath, there is
mighty murmur in your own ears.
The most impressive sound of winter
is the hearing your own heart beat.
"When the morning stars sang to-
gether," is often made mention Of. But
the stars are singing yet. Sounds do
fall out of the clear, cold sky of winter,
Not in the city, but over wide, snow
covered field. The stars hang low in
the cold, it seems. Indeed they seem SO
very near that you think to pluck them
off with your walking stick. A little
child at my window asked me why the
stars were so near, and he put out his
hand, instinctively, to touch them.
These near visitors do sing as of old
There is a whisper, yet that is too strong
\ word. There are sounds that are