'history of

tne origin and publication or these marvel

ous lines: .

- In the curl? part of the war, one dark Satur

day mormngjinlhe dead of Winter, there died

at the Conin'rcfiil Hospital in Cincinnatti, a

young woman, over whose head only two and

twenty suummers had passed. She had been

vn,c jnoscoDrn ui ail cuvwuic ouuic ui ueauivj

had been, as hc herself sa-s, "flattered and

sought for the ch;inn3 of her fade;" but alas

.upon 'her fair brow had long been written. that

terrible word 'prostitute !" Once the pride of

respectable '.parentage, herjhrst wrong step

was, the smau beginning, of the ' 'same old

story over again," which has been the only

life-history of thousands. Highly educated

and accomplished in manners, she might hai

shone in the lest of society. But the evil­

hotr that proved her ruin was but- the

door from' childhood, and having spent a

young life in disgrace and shame, the poor

inendiess on died the melancholy death of a

brokeii heaTtkl outcast. -Among

her personal effects wa3 - found in1

manuscript the "beautiful Snow," which was

immediately. carried to Lnos B. Reed, a gen­

tleman of culture and literary tastes, who was

at that time editor of .the Rational Union. In

the. columns of thai paper, on the morning of

tire day following the girj's death, ' the

poem, appeared in print for the first time.

When the paper containing the poem came

out on Sunday-morning, the Jjody of the poor

victim hud not ytjvjceived burial. The at­

tention of Thomas Buchanan Heed, one of the

first -of our American poets, was soon directed

to the !newly published lines, who was so' taken

with their pathos that he. immediately proT

ceeded to the hospital, from whence he fol­

lowed'the corpse to its final resting place.

Such are the plain facts concerning her

whose "Beautiful Snow" shall long be regard--eda-soneof

the-brih test gents in American

literature: -

Oil! the snow, the beautiful snow,

Filling the sky and earth below;

Over the house tops, over the street,

Over the heads of thq people you met t..

Dancing, '

Flirting,

Skimming along;

Beautiful snow! it can, do no wrong;

Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek. .

Clinging to; hps in a frolicsome freak,

Beautiful snow from the Heaven above,

Pure as an angel, gentle as love 1

Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow,

How the flakes gather and laugh as they go

Whirling about in their maddening fur?,

It plays in its glee wth every one.

Chasing,

.: y . Laughing; "

Hurrying by: - .

It lights on the face and sparkles' the eye,

And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound.

Strap at the crystals that eddy around

The town is alive and its heart in a glow !

To welcome the coming of beautifies now !

How the wild crowd goes swaying along,

nailing eacn oiner witn numor and

How the gay sledges, iike meteors.

1 K;i-tt- ? '

flash by,

isngiu ior -a moment, men lost uuve eye

; jHinging,'

Swinging,'

Dancing they go,

Over the crust of the beautiful snow;

Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,

T 1 i . A. .1 . I w .

To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing

To be trampled and tracked by the thousands

of feet, '

Till it blends with the filth in the horrible

street. ..

Once I was pure as the snow but I fell t

Fell like the snow flakes from Heaven to hell;

Fell to be trampled as tilth in the street;

1 Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat ;

Pleading,

, . - Cursing, . ' .

Dreading to die,

Selling my soul to whoever would .buy.

Dealing in shame for a morsel of breid,

Hating the living and fearing the dead;

Merciful God, have I fallen so low?

And yet I wa3 once like the beautiful snow.

Once I was fairas the beautiful snow,

With an eye like its crystal, a heart like

y glow ;

Flattered and sought for the charms of

face!

Father,

' Mother, ,

Sisters, all,

God, and myself, I've lost by mv fall:

its

my

The veriest wretch that goes shivering .by,

Will make a wide sweep lest I wander

too

nich;

For all that is on or about me, Tknow,

THere i3 nothing that's pure but the beautiful

snow.

llow strange

it should be that the beautiful

snow

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go !

How strange it should be, when the night

comes again, . ,

If the suow and the ice strikes my - desperate

brain. . . ;

Fainting,

Freezing, .

Dying alone,

Too wicked for prayer; too weak for a moan,

To be heard-iu the streets of the crazy town;

Gone mad in its joy of the snow coming down ;

To be and to die in my terrible woe,

With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful

SUOW;