A FALLEN WOMAN'S STORY. p The Omaha

Republican gives the following t history

of this production, which the London

S1pectator has pronounced the finest

poem ever written in America. In the

early part of the war, one dark Saturday

night in the dead of winter, there died

in the Commercial Hospital, in

Cinciyatti, a young woman, over whose I

head only two and twenty summers had

passed. She had been once possessed of

an enviable share of beauty, and had

been, as she d herself says, "flattered

and sought for the charms of the face,"

but alas I upon her fir ri brow had long

been written that terrible word u - .

Once the pride of respectable parent- a

age, her first wrong stop was the small

beginning of the same old story over

again, which 1 has been the only history

of thousands. Highly educated and

accomplished . in mantiors, she might

have shone in the best society. But the

evil hour that proved her ruin came, 0

and having spent a young life in

disgrace and shame, the poor friendless

one died the melancholy death of a

broken-hearted outcast. "' Among her

personal effects was found, in s' MI.S.,

"The Beautiful' Snow," which was

immediately carried to Enos B.Reed,a

gentle- 4 man of culture and literary

talent, and the 0 then editor of the

National Union. c Oh I the snow, the

beautiful enow, Filling the sky and the

earth below; a Over the houes tope, over

the street, Over the heads of the people

you meet, e Dancing, flirting, skimming

along; t Beautiful snow I It can do

ncthing wrong t y Flying to kiss a fair

lady's cheek, Clinging to lips in a

frolicsome'freak; Baautilul snow from

the heavens above, t Pore as sn angel,

gentle as love I Oh! the snow, the

beautiful snow, How the flakes gather

and launh as they go a Whirling about In

their maddening fun, It plays in its

glee with everyone-Chasiog, laughing.

haurrying by, It lights on the lace and

sparkles the eye, And the does, with a

bark and a bound, c Snap at the cryslals

that eddy aroundTno town is alive and

its heart in a glow To welcome the

coming of beautiful snow. How wildly the

crowd goes swaying along, I Hailing each

other with humor and song Il How the gay

sledges like meteors flash by, Bright

for a moment, then lost to the eye;

Ringinu; swinging, dashing they go, r

Over the crait of the beautiful snow- s

Snow so pure when it falls from the sky

As to make one regret to see it lie, To

be trampled and tracked by the thousands

of feet, ] Till it blends with the filth

to tite horrible street Once I was pure

as the snow, but I fell, Fell like the

snow flakes from heaven to hell t Fellto

be trampled like filth In the street,

Fell to to scoffed to be spit on and

beat. Pleading, curalog, dreading to

die, Selling my soul to whoever would

boy ; i Dealing in shame for a morsel of

bread, listing the living and fearing

the dead. Mlerciful God I have I fallen

so low P And yet I was once like the

beautilul snow. Once I was fair ao the

beautiful snow, With an eyo like its

crystal, a heart like its gloa Once I

was loved for my innocent graceFlattered

and sought for the charms of my face;

Father, mother, sister and all t God and

myself, I have lost by my fall; The

veriest wretch that goee shlvering by

Will make a wide swoop, lest I wander

too nigh; t For all that is on or above

me I know There's nothing so pure as the

beautiful snow. Ilow strange it should

be that this beautiful snow I Should

fall on a sinner with nowhere to go I

How strange sioald it be, when

nighteomes again, If the snow and.the

ice sattack my deaperate brain I

F.inting, freezing, dying aloue, Too

wicked fTf prayer, too'weak for a moan

To he beard'in the street of the crazy

towi, Gone mad in the joy ol the snow

coming down; To be and to dle in my

terrible woe, With a bed and a bhroud in

the beahtifol snow. Ielplese an'd foul

as the'trtmpled.anow,. Sinner, despair

nott Chrlat .toopeth low To rescue the

soul that is lost In its sn, And raise

it to life and enjoyment again.

Groaning, bleeding, dying for thee,. The

crucified hung on the accursed tree, His

aecents of mercy fell soft on thineo

earIs there mercy for me P Will he heed

my prayer? O 1 Godl iin the stream that

for sinners did flow, Wash me, and I

shall be whiter that snow.