LADIES* DEPARTMENT. 
£at>«s’ tPcpavtinint. 
COUNTRY LIFE. 
“ Oh Winter! ruler of the inverted year. 
Thy scattered hair with sleet, like ashes fill’d, 
Thy breath congeal’d upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
Fring’d with a heard made white with other snows 
Than those of age ; thy forehead wrapt in clouds; 
A leafless branch thy sceptre; and thy throne 
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels— 
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem’st, 
And dreaded as thou art!” Cowper. 
At this season, when the thronged streets of our 
eities look like summer flower gardens, or with 
richly tinted silks, and splendid stuffs of every hue, 
bedecking winter in all the gorgeous colors of an 
American autumn, those who do not love Nature 
for her own sake, may contrast these gas-lighted 
streets, and the ever moving crowds, with the leaf¬ 
less trees, bleak fields, and rugged walks of the 
country; and wonder how any one, left free to 
choose, should stay from the delights of a city life 
a single day after the fall of the first leaf had rung 
the knell of departed summer. 
We will fancy some of these gay young butter¬ 
flies of fashion, whose ideas of the country were 
gathered in an occasional ride, or during a railroad 
excursion to some watering place—on calling to 
remembrance one of their favorite companions, 
whose cruel destiny had united her to the man of 
her heart, and fixed in the country—half in pity for 
her solitude, and half for the sake of a frolic, they 
agree to make her a visit, and spend a day, a win¬ 
ter's day, in the country. A bright sunny morn¬ 
ing was chosen, and as they drove rapidly over the 
well beaten road, their spirits exhilarated by the pure 
healthful breeze, they could not help expressing the 
admiration they felt for the snow-capped hills, with 
gigantic icicles hanging from every rugged rock, 
and the picturesque groups of merry skaters on 
every little frozen stream, with their odd-fashioned 
fur caps, and scarlet and blue comforters. 
They found their friend with her excellent hus¬ 
band and fine children well, and delighted to see 
them; were ushered into the cheerful parlor with 
affectionate haste, and warm welcome—sincere as 
warm—for out of the chilling influence of fashion¬ 
able life, where the feelings are too often frittered 
away upon crowds for whom one cares not, the 
heart has room to expand, and love dearly where it 
loves at all; and closely does it enfold the favored 
few who find footing there. The morning passed 
quickly and merrily away in admiring “ Cousin 
Mary’s ” winter arrangements, and talking over old 
times and scenes. The plentiful, but unfashionably 
early dinner, the produce of their own farm and 
dairy, was served with exquisite neatness, and ex¬ 
cellently dressed; they did not know how, for the 
short absence of their charming hostess had not 
been noticed. They visited the dairy, and pro¬ 
nounced it perfect; the poultry-yard, Mary’s pecu¬ 
liar care ; and the small but well-filled green house, 
which opening from the parlor, imparted, by its 
tasteful arrangement, an air of elegance to the hand¬ 
some room. The loveliest flowers were gaily pluck¬ 
ed to be carried to town as trophies of their pil¬ 
grimage to “ the countryand while preparing to 
Teturn in time to allow the young moon to light 
3'3 
them home, they truly declared, they had never 
passed a happier day—and promising to “ come 
soon again,” took a merry leave of their hospitable 
host and hostess. While sweeping round the lawn 
and through the fine old avenue of giant oaks, they 
agreed that Cousin Mary had not made such a bad 
choice after all, for with such an establishment, 
even winter in the country might be tolerated ! 
This was the bright side of an unknown picture, 
and they had not gone far before the scene changed. 
Huge masses of clouds obscured the horizon, and 
threatened a storm; the bright noon-day sun had 
thawed the roads, through which the heavy wagons 
had ploughed deep ruts; and these a keen frost had 
hardened into frightful jolts, in going over one of 
which a spring broke, and the gay party were 
obliged to walk to the nearest smith, where they 
waited, shivering in the cold night air, until the 
carriage was brought up and repaired. By the time 
they were again on the road it was dark as Erebus 
—not a star to be seen ; the moon had gone down, 
and the sharp wind blew the fast falling snow in 
their faces. 
At last they reached home, where Papa and 
Mama had become uneasy, and were waiting their 
return in anxious impatience, blaming them for 
staying so late. Chilled and out of humor they 
took their tea, and then related the chapter of sad 
accidents. The sisters were frightened, and the 
brothers came to the conclusion that they would 
never be again entrapped into the country in cold 
weather; “ the town was good enough for them. ” 
All the charms of the country had vanished, and 
they declared that it was a shame for such a pretty 
girl as Cousin Mary, so clever and well educated, 
to be buried alive in that way; and that she had 
made a great mistake when she threw herself away 
upon a farmer,who would not spend the winter in 
town. They acknowledged that, he had received a 
classical education, and was an intelligent, generous, 
and fine-looking fellow; but to live out there was 
too bad. 
But what was poor Cousin Mary doing all this 
time ? As soon as her guests had departed, whose 
sacrifice to friendship she by no means appreciated— 
how could she when she was so stupid as to love the 
country for its own sake, as well as for that of the 
clodpole she gloried in calling her husband—she 
returned to her parlor, arranged the tea table, closed 
the curtains, and then by the bright light of the fire, 
in the fulness of her happy heart, she romped with 
her lovely boy; sung her sweet baby to sleep, and 
sat down to wait until her husband should come in 
to tea. Presently he came, glowing with health 
and happiness—and shaking the snow from his 
hair, predicts fine sleighing on the morrow. They 
talked long and earnestly of the visit they had re¬ 
ceived, and good-naturedly, but sincerely regretted 
that their young friends, who they thought were 
made for better things, should be doomed to waste 
their energies in a city life; while they congratu¬ 
lated themselves upon their own far happier lot. 
The day’s cares were over; the table drawn closer 
to the fire; the lard lamp diffused its clear, soft 
light through the spacious room, while with read¬ 
ing, music, and cheerful, instructive conversation, 
the evening glided imperceptibly away. The wind 
whistled around the house and groaned in the trees 
