DEVOTED TO AGKICDTiTUHE AWD ITS KINDRED ARTS AND SCIENCES. 



VOL. XII. 



BOSTON, FEBRUARY, 1860. 



NO. 2. 



XOlTtSE, EATO>r & TOLMAX, Proprietors. cT«^r,-Kr -o-or^-fT^T Tr-r^rTr^-o FRED'K HOLBROOK, ) Associate 



Office.... 3i .Merchants' Row bimUN HiiOWN, BDllOR. HENRY F. FRENCH, ( Editors. 



A TALK ABOUT PEBRUAKY. 



"The wintry West extends his blast, 



And hail and rain does blaw , 

 Or the stormy North sends driving forth 



The blinding sleet and snaw." 



EBRUARY has come 

 round again, and 

 although the world 

 is still locked in 

 its icy "sepulchre," 

 and "winter keeps the 

 kej," we know that, in 

 a few weeks, winter 

 must give his last dy- 

 I ,,ing wail, and make way 

 that other month, which, 

 bleak enough in itself, puts 

 tlie world in a state of pre])a- 

 ration for something better. 

 But Ave miist not represent 

 winter as altogether desolate. 

 Provided our bodies are 

 first made comfortable, there 

 is something in a scene such as greets 

 our eyes on some bright February 

 morning, that Is fitted to call up emo- 

 tions by no means unpoetic. You look out 

 through the frosted window panes, and the east 

 is lighted up with a cinnamon glow that waxes 

 deeper and warmer every minute, till the gi"eat 

 round sun comes up, and the roofs of the hous- 

 es, and the trees laden with a light snow, are 

 tinged with a delicate pink, and all the land- 

 scape blushes beneath the ardent gaze of the sun. 

 Soon the elms and maples begin to stir in the wind, 

 and shake off theu* burden, th?ir blossoms of 

 snow, — but the hackmatack, the pine and the fir, 

 presenting a broader surface, may keep theirs for 

 many days yet. How cheerful looks the face of 

 our next neighbor, as he comes out with his shov- 

 el to clear away the snow from his door, and how 



j^ 



clear is the ring of his voice, as he shouts his 

 "good morning" across the street. 



Is Avinter altogether desolate ? Why, look at 

 those little urchins playing on the slope before 

 the door. Now they stretch themselves full length 

 in the snow, and laugh to see the Impression of a 

 boy they have left there. Then they snow-ball 

 each other awhile, or test then- strength In a AVTCst- 

 ling match, and anon they take a turn at coast- 

 ing, their joyful cries testifying that the pleasure 

 of drawing the sled up the hill, Is scarcely less 

 than b'jing carried down by it. We should find 

 it pretty hard to conA-ert than to the belief that 

 Avinter is an innovation, and ought not to be tol- 

 erated. 



But some young lady says, perhaps, "Your Avinter 

 sunrise may be a A'ery fine thing, but I ncA'er saw 

 It." Is It possible — and you not passed the age 

 of romance — is it possible that you find glories 

 I in a feather bed Avhich you cannot find In a sun- 

 I rise ! Yet, doubtless, you have often thought it 

 I very romantic Avhen you have read In some deli- 

 ! clous novel of a Beatrice, or Amanda, Avho, trav- 

 elling among the mountains of SAvitzerland, took 

 a long Avalk before breakfast to see this same sun- 

 rise Avhich you may see any morning from your 

 parlor windoAv. Besides, you knoAv the old coup- 

 let— 



"Early to bed and early to rise," &c. 



But the mornings are groAvdng longer noAV, and 

 there is quite a perceptible evening twilight, — 

 that hour so pleasant to those at leisvire, and sur- 

 rounded by good company. Hear Avhat Mrs. 

 StoAve says about the tAvilight that used to come 

 in the old NeAv England kitchens : "Hoav dreamy 

 the Avinter tAvillght came in there — as yet the can- 

 dles Avere not lighted — when the crickets chirped 

 around the dark stone hearth, and shifting tongue s 

 of flame flickered, and cast dancing shadoAvs v.v.d 

 elfish lights on the Avails, Avhile grandmother nod- 

 ded over her knitting-Avork, and puss purred, and 



