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inmates in a state of dismay. The state of the sheep belonging to the farm became an object of anxiety to all; eight hundred of these poor animals being out on a very exposed hill at a considerable distance from the houses. They made a hasty breakfast, joined in a simple but earnest prayer for the safety of all, and the male inmates started on a perilous venture, having previously filled their pockets with bread and cheese, sewed their plaids around their bodies, tied on their hats, and provided themselves each with a staff.

As soon as they got out into the open air (two hours before day) the darkness was so great, that to grope their way was the only method of proceeding. Sometimes they had to wade through masses of snow, at others to roll or clamber over them; while the wind and drift were so violent, that the travellers were forced, every three or four minutes, to hold down their heads to recover breath. So perplexing were the difficulties which they had to encounter in the utter

darkness, that they were two hours reaching a distance of three hundred yards from the house. As day dawned, they were able to advance a little faster, one taking the lead, and the others following close in the rear. This leadership could only be maintained three or four minutes at a time, on account of the piercing wind which blew uninterruptedly in their faces. In a short time one of the party, who, as leader, had been unconsciously taking them out of the way, was found nearly insensible : shortly afterwards Hogg fell down a precipice, and was nearly buried in the snow.

After innumerable disasters, they at length reached one of the flocks of sheep. The sheep were standing in a close body, one-half of the number being covered with snow to the depth of ten feet, and the other half being forced up against a brae. The outer ones being with some difficulty extricated, the rest were, to the agreeable surprise of the shepherds, able to walk out from beneath the superincumbent load of snow, which had consolidated into a mass. Hogg, quitting the other shepherds, proceeded onward to a spot where another flock had been left. He was able to extricate about half of these, and to procure them a place of safety ; after which he made the best of his way home again, groping along as well as he could, for although day-time, it was

with snow,

impossible to see twenty yards around; and the snow was so deep as to conceal every vestige of the lofty trees in some of the glens. Day after day the party sallied forth, until they had found and brought home, either dead or alive, nearly the whole of the sheep, most of which were found buried to the depth of from six to ten feet in snow. All were alive when found, but a large number died shortly afterwards.

By this one night's snow-storm, seventeen shepherds in the south of Scotland lost their lives, while upwards of thirty more were carried home insensible. One farmer lost seventytwo scores of sheep, and many others from twenty to thirty scores each. In some cases whole flocks were overwhelmed

and no one knew where they were till the dissolving snow exposed the dead bodies. Many hundreds were, by the violence of the storm, driven into waters, burns, and lakes, where they were buried or frozen up, and these the flo carried away, so that they were never again seen or found by the owners. At one place, where several streams flow into the Solway Frith, there is a kind of shoal called the Beds of Esk, where the tide throws out and leaves whatever is carried into it by these streams. At this spot, when the flood after the storm had subsided, were found the dead bodies of two men, one woman, forty-five dogs, three horses, nine black cattle, one hundred and eighty

hares, and eighteen hundred and forty sheep.

Bishop Stanley's pleading for the much maligned rook which suffers especially during the severe frosts of this month, deserves a place here.

We have often heard persons congratulate themselves on a deep snow, a hard frost, or dry weather, as the surest means of destroying insects; whereas it is just the reverse. A hard frost, or a deep snow, or a dry summer, are the very best protection they can have, and for this reason: the rooks and other birds cannot reach that innumerable host which pass the greater portion of their existence under ground. In vain the hungry rook in a hard frost, looks over a fine fallow, or a field of new-sown wheat. He


be seen sitting on a bare bough, like Tantalus, in the midst of plenty beyond his reach, with his feathers ruffed up, casting every now and then an anxious glance over the frozen surface, beyond the power of even his strong beak to penetrate. His situation



is much the same in dry springs or summers, when he may be seen walking up and down by the sides of the highways, picking up what he can get. In the hot summer of 1825, many of the young broods of the season are reported to have been starved: the mornings were without dew, and consequently, few or no earth-worms were to be obtained, and they were found dead under the trees, having expired on their roostings. It was quite distressing, says an eye-witness, to hear the constant clamour of the young for food. The old birds seemed to suffer without complaint; but the wants of their perishing offspring were expressed by unceasing cries. Yet amidst all this distress, it was pleasing to observe the perseverance of the old ones in the endeavour to relieve their perishing families; for many of them remained out searching for food long after their accustomed roosting-time,—and then, adds this interesting writer, the rook became a plunderer, and dreadful havoc took place in the potato-fields, where whole lines were afterwards seen broken up in consequence of the visits of the suffering rooks.

But among the natural features of this month we must not omit one of the most beautiful, that of Hoar-Frost.

What, says Leigh Hunt, can be more delicately beautiful than the spectacle which sometimes salutes the eye at the breakfast-room window, occasioned by the hoar-frost dew? If a jeweller had come to dress every plant over night to surprise an eastern sultan, he could not produce anything like the “ pearly drops ” or “the silvery plumage.” An ordinary bed of greens, to those who are not at the mercy of their own vulgar associations, will sometimes look like crisp and corrugated emerald, powdered with diamonds.

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The frost looked forth, one still clear night,
And whispered, “Now, I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height,

In silence I'll take my way;
I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ;-

But I'll be as busy as they."

Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest ;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
In diamond beads—and over the breast

Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near

Where a rock could rear its head.
He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,

By the light of the moon were seen
Most beautiful things ;—there were flowers and trees;
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees;
There were cities with temples and towers, and these

All pictured in silver sheen!
But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare-

“Now just to set them a thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit,” said he,
“ This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
And the glass of water they've left for me
Shall tchick /' to tell them I'm drinking.”




What dream of beauty ever equalled this !
What bands of fairyland have sallied forth,
With all the foliage of the abundant north,
With imagery from the realms of bliss !
What visions of my boyhood do I miss
That here are not restored ? All splendours pure,
All loveliness, all graces that allure-
Shapes that amaze-& paradise that is,
Yet was not, will not in few moments be.
Glory from nakedness, that playfully
Mimics, with passing life, each summer boon :
Clothing the ground, replenishing the tree;
Weaving arch, bower, and radiant festoon,
Still as a dream, and like a dream to flee.


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FROST. “At noon to-day,” January 23rd, says Miss Mitford, one of our pleasantest writers on the country, "I and my white greyhound, Mayflower, set out for a walk into a very beautiful world- & sort of silent fairy-land-a creation of that matchless magician the hoar-frost. There had been just snow enough to cover the earth and all its colours with one sheet of pure and uniform white and just time enough since the snow had fallen to allow the hedges to be freed of their fleecy load, and clothed with a delicate coating of rime. The atmosphere was deliciously calm ; soft, even

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