JANUARY. 



Green nearly free, has buried all northward of 

 that line, in a vast fall of snow, sweeping across 

 the country even to the shores of the Irish 

 Channel. The mails are stopped, the snow- 

 drifts in many places are stated to be twenty- 

 five feet deep, and great numbers of sheep have 

 perished beneath them, one farmer having dug 

 out one hundred and fifty in one place, all dead. 

 Hogg, the highly-gifted Ettrick Shepherd, one 

 of the most splendid specimens of the peasant- 

 poet, has given in his ' f Shepherd's Calendar " 

 some exceedingly interesting details of such 

 events. 



The delights of the social hearth on such 

 evenings as these, when the wild winds are 

 howling around our dwellings, dashing the 

 snow, or hail, or splashing rain against our win- 

 dows, are a favourite theme with poets, essay- 

 ists, and writers on the Seasons. And truly it is 

 an inspiring topic. All our ideas of comfort, of 

 domestic affection, of social and literary enjoy- 

 ment, are combined in the picture they draw of 

 the winter fire-side. How often have those lines 

 of Cowper been quoted, commencing, 



Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast, 

 Let fall the curtain, wheel the sofa round, 



