A WINTER LANDSCAPE. 5 



garret window, or in the narrow intervals between house and 

 house, can form no accurate idea of the magnificence of 

 the firmament. The peasant, the shepherd, or the labourer, 

 spent with his daily work, prefers sleep to astronomical vigils ; 

 and even amongst those more favoured sons of fortune, who 

 enjoy sufficient leisure, but few are found who feel a genuine 

 pleasure in the study of the stars. Though they are the 

 poetry of heaven, their music is inaudible to the majority of 

 souls. We content ourselves with an occasional careless 

 glance at their serene loveliness, and then turn again to the 

 pleasures or avocations of commonplace life. 



But, come ; let us arouse ourselves ! Let us quit the city 

 for awhile ; let us throw off all thought of its too-engrossing 

 pursuits ; let us find time to count the stars. Gentle readers, 

 I ask you to follow me. 



Ah, me ! how small is the train of followers ! How great my 

 delusion in supposing that a complete phalanx of students of 

 the celestial wonders would reply to my invitation ! 



We have now arrived in the open country; and here, on 

 the summit of this gentle ascent, crowned with a clump of 

 leafless trees, we pause. The sky glitters with a cold, keen 

 light, which is reflected back by the snowy plains. While the 

 eye ranges delightedly over the starry vault, the ear is struck 

 by the distant sound of bells, which, at the midnight hour, 

 ring in the infant year ring in so many hopes and expected 

 joys, and unexpected sorrows ring out so many passing plea- 

 sures and rudely dissipated visions. 



As the chime glides softly over the meadows, and along the 



