DECEMBER. 393 



rattling, the sides of the hill looking black and 

 hard with the driving blasts ; the dew-drops 

 congealed on the stubble and rind of trees ; the 

 sharp hailstones deadly-cold, hopping on the 

 thatch, and the neighbouring causeway." 



We are now placed in the midst of such 

 wintry scenes as this. Nature is stripped of all 

 her summer drapery. Her verdure, her foliage, 

 her flowers have all vanished. The sky is filled 

 with clouds and gloom, or sparkles only with a 

 frosty radiance. The earth is spongy with wet, 

 rigid with frost, or buried in snows. The 

 winds that in summer breathed gently over 

 nodding blooms, and undulating grass, swaying 

 the leafy boughs with a pleasant murmur, and 

 wafting perfumes all over the world, now hiss 

 like serpents, or howl like wild beasts of the 

 desert ; cold, piercing, and cruel. Every thing 

 has drawn as near as possible to the centre of 

 warmth and comfort. The farmer has driven 

 his flocks and cattle into sheltered home inclo- 

 sures, where they may receive from his provi- 

 dent care, that food which the earth now denies 

 them ; or into the farm-yard itself, where some 

 honest Giles piles their cratches plentifully with 

 fodder. The labourer has fled from the field to 

 the barn, and the measured strokes of his flail 



