Year: 1868

tl1tecn degrees below zero lie
snow crcakcd beneath the passing
wheels as ifin pain wayiarcrs, muffiet
yet shivering, hurried by, each blowing
a cloud of vapor at every cxhalation-


icicles clupg to the beard and bushJ
locks of many hirsute pedestrian
! while poor teamsters and stage drivers
swung their stout arms to and fro, and
made the cold an excuse for number
less drinks of unexampled strength
From the river a cloud like steam was
going up, white and feecy, while in
the docks and along piers the ribbed
ice walled the tinbers in a glittering
barrier. In many warm parlor sat
rosy children, trying industriouSly to
keep clear space on the window pane;
but Jack Frost as resolutely repainted
Its surface, shutting the outer scene
from their view.


In cherries garret, in one Of the
wretched houses where poverty huddles
and hides, sat a wan, hungry child,
yainly trying to kee3 life and warmth
in the blue fingers and stiffening limbs
The scanty supply Of fuel was exhaust





ed on the hearth to recall the memory
ofa fire that had been there the day
before Harry, more weak from long
illness, worn out with hunger, ard
heart-sick from loneliness, was silently
crying as be sat by the hearth, with
his head resting on the old chair beside
it, and the poor worn blanket drawn
around his shoulders


"Mother, dear mother, where are
you! Harry will die here all alone ,
Then with pain and wear1ness, the
child drew the old arm chair tn the
window to watch and wait for her com
ing, if indeed a more dread visitant
should not enter before that time for
Harry knew that the chill and the stu
por coming on were fatal symptoms.
In quiet despair he drew himself. up
within the tattered covering, and lean
ing his head backward, gazcd dreamily
on the tracery the frost had woven on
the shattered pane; for Jack Frost is
no aristocrat, and his patterns are as
beautiful and complicated on the crack
ed surface of the poor mans window
as on the polished French plate of the
brown stone front.


Harry gazed on the fairy pictures
idly until fancy showed him landscape
and waterfall, forest and streamles; and
their changing forms blended with his
dreams while the chilling life blood
grew colder and stiller. There seemed
to be the grove of noddIng trees and
the grassy deli where he was horn.
There was eNen the tiny cataract behind
the house, and the winding road bey-
ond the brook. Soon it changed, and
there seemed mournful fLperal train,
and he knew that it was headed by his
fathers bier. The feathery evergreens
lined the way, and plumes were on the
horses, heads. Shadowy mourneTs,
ghost-like and wierd, were following
close behind, and their long garments
trailed along the way.


Then, like the changes of the magic
lantern, he saw sunny open sea,
where the wooded islands seemed bath
ed in eternal sunshine, and myriads of
white. winged birds circled over the
cleaning expanse. And even as he
looked the snowy figures took the form
Of angels, white winged and white rob-
ed, who seemed to beckon. Still, as in
dream. he saw the spirit band bend
ing over dying child, folding the cold
limbs in their embrace, and gliding
slowly, swiftly on and up through the
clear 81 Ky; to vanish there. His eyes
were shut now, the poor hand sunk
helpless beside him, and The faint flick
er of the heart beat was the only token
of life remaining.