Danbury Times

WINTER. More than all, winter speaks to me loudly of God and of immortality. During the other seasons there are so many beauties, and nature pours forth for every sense so many luxuries, that my reason has feeble play. I feel the present Deity, but, intellectually, I recognize him not. And this is doubtless intended; for such a feeling is itself purifying. But among the rarer beauties of winter, and the less obvious marks of design, care and wisdom, I am ever impressed with evidence of a Preserver and Providence. The migration of birds; the coat of leaves, that first protects the root, and then decomposes to give it nourishment, and is succeeded by a coat of snow; the floating ice, solid water, yet made lighter than water; the frost lifting and loosening the soil; the wonders and sublimities of the tempest, as it gathers and sweeps over us, and passes away, how and whither we know not; beauties of a clear cold morning, when the air rings like a bell, and the smoke from the cottage chimney curls up and melts into the sky like a living spirit. And in the yearly revelation made by winter, that the living spirit which fashioned and gave beauty to the leaves and flowers of one year, may put them off, and seem to pass away and die with them, and yet not die, but only sleep—there is something that satisfies, though it does not demonstrate to me, that the spirit which moulded these limbs, may live though they decay.

For my part, then, I say, Welcome Winter! you bring us Christmas rejoicings, and the charities of the New Year, the pleasant fireside, the friendly conversation, the reward of past labors, the hope of future enjoyment.—[Western Messenger.