January 31.] 
it on too long, lest it cause a disagreeable sore, and 
one not readily cured. 
OUR VILLAGE WALKS. 
(N0.17.) 
We sometimes find a dazzling sun entering our 
rooms, while the gi-ound is covered with snow. I 
have more than once been obliged to move my chair, 
when the full beams have fallen upon the spot where 
it stood; and I could scarcely believe it possible that 
such a sun could belong to winter, and could shine 
so warmly while the frost was still binding all things 
in its iron grasp. It is a strango contrast, and strikes 
the mind forcibly. How many situations in life 
resemble this combination! How many worldly trials 
and troubles surround us, lying like snow upon our 
hearts, while the bright, cheering influence of the 
“Sun of Righteousness” comforts and gladdens us 
under them; almost causing us to forget their power. 
It is beautiful to watch the sparkling drops falling 
rapidly from the trees and houses, beneath the soft 
warm rays; the very sound as they reach the earth is 
musical; and while passing under trees during a mid¬ 
day thaw, wo seem to he moving through a silver 
shower. When snow becomes well beaten on the 
the foot-pads, walking is very delightful: there is a 
briskness in the air, a sparkle on the earth, and a 
spirit in our own feelings, that leads us pleasantly 
on; and we perpetually see some object of beauty 
that interests and delights us. Whatever belongs to 
nature never wearies, however frequently it meets our 
eye; and sometimes we are peculiarly struck by that 
which we have seen a thousand times without parti¬ 
cular notice. How beautifully a bright wintry day 
sometimes closes ! I was this evening enjoying the 
sunset, in spite of cold, and really a summer evening 
scene could scarcely bo more lovely. The ground 
was white with snow, which also lay quietly on the 
trees and evergreens; the sun sunk gently down 
among rich yellow clouds, that threw a sort of golden 
light around; and a frosty mist was gathering in the 
distance, foreboding another severe night. Every 
distant sound came with clear distinctness—the 
sudden report of a gun sounded like that of a cannon; 
and I fancied, or tried to fancy, that the plaintive 
bleating of lambs came from the distant farms—hut 
this, I have every reason to think, was a delusion. 
The stillness and tranquility of an evening such as 
this, is very striking. It compels us to pause—to 
admire—to think; and it answers our thoughts elo¬ 
quently. That departing sun, with its cold pale beams, 
is rising in glowing, glittering grandeur on many 
distant lands; rousing many of our fellow-men from 
their wearied sleep, and calling them forth to the 
labour of another summer's day. To us, his daily 
course is now short and chilling; but to another 
portion of our globe, be is shedding abroad all his 
glory, and ripening and enriching fruits and flowers 
with undiminished power. There is no night, no 
rest, for the glorious orb that “ goeth forth as a bride¬ 
groom out of his chamber, and rejoicetli as a giant 
to run his course;” his beams are ever bright; his 
warmth ever the same; his glory ever resplendant. 
The restless earth, as she obeys the impulse of the 
Hand Divine, removes some of her inhabitants from 
his immediate influence at stated, and appointed 
times; clouds gather round us, and obstruct bis 
beams—sometimes even the intervening form of a far 
inferior planet will darken portions of our earth, and 
almost persuade the astonished birds that night is at 
hand; yet the sun is ever the same. He is the cold, 
pale, dim shadow of Him who hath said, “ I am the 
243 
Lord, I change not"—who is “the same yesterday, 
to-day, and for ever” — whose glory the heaven 
of heavens cannot contain.” We are sometimes 
tempted to think our God has forsaken us—we cannot 
see or feel His immediate presence as we were wont 
to do; trials, bodily and mental, sins and wavering 
faith, cloud our spiritual enjoyments; some earthly 
object rises up, and dims our spiritual sight, and it 
seems as if night had indeed set in to the soul. But 
let us remember that our “ Sun and shield ” is ever 
cloudless. Beautiful as is the source of earthly light 
and heat, universal as is his power, unchanging as 
is his brightness, he is but a dark and distant type 
of “ Him with whom we have to do. ” 
While I was admiring the sunset, my attention 
was attracted to the proceedings of a flight of rooks. 
They were assembled in parties under one or two 
large trees, that stood singly in the paddock, where 
the snow lay thinly, and where the shells of beech¬ 
nuts still remained like a carpet upon the damp 
ground. They were extremely busy—hopping about, 
fluttering their wings—sometimes appearing almost 
to converse—sometimes fighting, and at intervals 
flying lazily into neighbouring trees, and then re¬ 
turning again to the general assembly. There 
seemed to be something going on among them, for 
their movements were very much like those of intelli¬ 
gent beings, and reminded me of those that take place 
among ourselves, when we meet for conversation or 
discussion. By degrees, a large number settled on 
the trees of the rookery; dropping down into their 
nests, as if inclined to begin building, and making 
extreme noise, and flappiug among the boughs. It 
appeared to me as if a general cogitation bad taken 
place, relative to the approaching time for repairing 
their nests; for I seldom observe them at the rookery 
during the winter, and never remarked so much 
clamour and commotion till the building season 
commenced. There is much interest in watching 
the ways of rooks; and their loud unmusical cries are 
never annoying, however near we may be to their 
busy colony. From the earliest morning to the latest 
evening hour, in the building season, their noise is 
unceasing; and even in the middle of the night I 
have often heard a loud, deep “caw;” suddenly break¬ 
ing the few hours of silence they enjoy, as if from 
the watchman of the night. Rooks interest us, too, 
because they love to dwell near us—they come con¬ 
fidingly round us, and seldom establish themselves 
far from the haunts of men. They even brave the 
noise of towns, and settle contentedly upon trees in 
the midst of a large population. There is something 
very pleasing in hearing and seeing the busy move¬ 
ments of these birds, high above our heads, regardless 
of the smoke, and bells, and discord, that take place 
beneath the very trees on which they rear their young. 
Among the sheltering leaves they are screened and 
secure, like those whose hearts and hopes rise beyond 
earthly things, and shelter themselves in the quiet 
hiding-place of a Saviour’s love. 
A gentleman, known to my father in his youth, 
encouraged his rooks so much, that they built in the 
gooseberry and currant bushes in his walled-garden; 
and became so tame, that they permitted him to walk 
among them, and look into their nests, without dis- 
•playing the least symptom of alarm. This was a 
singular instance of their confidence, because rooks 
almost always build in the highest trees; and though 
they frequent the neighbourhood of man, yet they 
seldom approach a garden, and are not tame in other 
ways. 
Rooks may convey a salutary lesson to our minds. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
