BEAUTIFUL SNOW. IN the early put of the
American war, one dark Saturday morning
in the dead of winter, there died at the
Commercial Hospital, Cincin-<*> nati, a
young woman over whose head only two-
and-twenty summers bad paated. She hid
onoe been possessed of an enviable share
of beauty» had been, m she herself said,
" flattered and •ought for the charms of
her face ;" but, alas! upon her fair
brow had long been written that terrible
word-fallen! Onoe the pride of
respectable parentage, her firtt wrong
step waa the mall beginning cf the «
same old story over again," which haa
been the only life-history of thousands.
Highly educated and aeeompluhed in
manner*, the might hate shone in the
best of society. But the evil hour that
proved her ruin waa but the door from
childhood ; and having ■pent a young
life in shame, the poor friendless one
died the melancholy death of a
brokenhearted outcast.Among Among her
personal effects was found, in
manmeript, the " Beautiful Snow," which
was immediately carried to Enos B. feed,
a gentleman of culture and literary
tastes, who was at that time editor of
the National Union. In the columns of
that paper, on the morning folio wing
the girl ■ death, the poem appeared in
print for the first time. When the paper
containing the poem came out on Sunday
morning, the body of the victim had not
yet received burial. The attention of
Thonits Buchanan Seed, one of the first
American poets, was soon directed to the
newly published lines, who was so taken
with their stirring pathos, that he
immediately followed the corpse to it*
final iwsting place. Such are the plain
faots concerning her whose " Beautiful
Snow " wUI long be regarded as one of
the brightest gems in American
literature. Oh t the snow, the beautiful
mow Filling the sky and earth below.
Over the housetop*, over the street,
Orer the heads of the people you meet;
Dancing—Flirting—skimming aloaw.
Beautiful suow! it can do no wrong;
Firing to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lip* in frolicsome freak •
Beautiful snow from heaven above. Pun at
an angel, gentle aa lore! Oh! the snow,
the beautiful snow. How the flake*
gather and laugh as they go. Whirling
about in maddening fun • .... u Ch>rtD
«—*«Bh»"W-HunTh*by. It lights on the
face, and it vparklea the eve * And the
dogs with a bark and a bound ' Bnap at
the crystals as they eddy around; • The
town is afire and its heart vi a-glow To
welcome the coming of beautiful snow!
How wild the crowd goes swaying alone,
Hailing each other with humor and soar:
How the gay sleighs like meteors flash
by Bright tor the moment, then lost to
the aye • Ringing—Kwingiug—Dashing they
to Over the crust of the beautiful snow
; Snow so pure when it falls frota the
sky To be trampled and tracked by
tbousanda of ftrt Till it blends with
the filth in the horrible street Once I
was as pure as the snow, but I fell Fell
like the mow flakes irum heaven to beU •
Fell to be trampled as filth on the
street. Fell to be scoffed, to be spit
en and beet -Pleading—Cursing— Dreading
to die. Selling my soul to whoever would
boy: Dealing in shame for a morsel of
bread. Hating the living and fearing the
dead/ Merciful God, bare 1 fallen so low
P And yet I was ouee like the beautiful
mow. Once I was fair as the beautiful
mow With an eye like a crystal, a heart
like Its dew • Once I was loved for my
innocent grace— Flattered and sought for
the charms of say bee! Fathers—Mothers-
Sisters, eIL God and myself 1 have lost
by my fall • The veriest wretch that
goes shivering by Will make a wide sweep
lest I wander too nigh • For all that is
on or above me I know, ' There is
nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.
How strange it should be that this
beautiful mow Should fall on a sinner
with nowhere to go 1 How strange it
should be when the night comes — '» It
the snow and the ice .truck my d.sperate
bnia/^ Fainting—Freezing—Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a
moaa To be heard in the streets of the
crasy town. Gone mad in the joy of snow
coming down • To be and to die in my
terrible woe. With a bed and a shroud of
the beautiful mow. Helpless and foul as
the trampled mow, Sinner, despair not!
Curutt stoopetb low To rescue the soul
that is lost in sin. And raise it to
life and enjoyment again.
Groaning—Bleeding—Dying for the*, The
Crucified hung on the cursed tree 1 Ills
accents of mercy fell soft on thine ear,
"Im there mercy for me r Will He beet aw
weak prayer V £, Go*! in the stream that
for daam dU tew, Warn me, and I shall be
whiter that mow.