BEAUTI T UL SNOW. SIn

the '?rlv at lof tile Ameriean war, one

dark Saturday morning, in tile dead of

wintr, there died at the Commereial

lilosp?tal, Cincinatti, a young womanll

uverr w'hlse Iheul only two-anl-twenty

t1ummers had passed. She had once been

possissced of all enviable s-are of

lIeantv-ladl hece, as se hersclf said,

flattered and snought for the charms of

her 'ace ;" but, alas ! she fell. Once

the pride of rIsp.setabld parentage, her

first wrong step was the smnall

legitiningof the "same old story

overagailn" whlch has been the only life

history of thousands. i Among her

plrso(ld effects was found in manuscript

the '" I;eautiful Snow," which was

immediately carriel tob Mlr. Enos B.

Reed, a Ierson of culture anld literary

tastes, who was at that time editor of

the Natlional Union. In the columns of

that plaper, on lthe moring of the day

following the gill's death, the poem

appeared in print for the firlt time.

W\heit the paper containing the poem

calme out onl .olnday morning, tile body

of tile viet m had not yet received

burial. The attention of Thomas

Buchananu leed, one of the lirst

Americ;ol poel, was soon rlireited to

the newly-publiollcl lines; lie was so

taken with their sttrring latllos, that

lie inmmediately followed lhe corpse to

its final resting place. Such are the

plain facts concerning her whose

"'Beautiful Snoiv" will !ong be regarded

as one of the brightestgems in Amneri.

can literature. Ill ! the snow, the

beautiful slinow, Filling the sky and

earth below, Over the, housetops, over

the street, Ovei the'lieads of the

people you meet, S"Dancing, S.Flirting,

chkinluilug along ; Beautiful snow i it

call do no wrong ; Flying to kiss a fair

lady's chlleek, Clingiing to lips in

frolicsome freek, Ieauntiful snow, froml

heaven above, Pure as ali angel, gentle

as love i Oh ! the snow, the beautiful

snow, leuw the flakes gather and laugh

as they go, Whirling about in maddening

tun, Chasing, Laucthing, Ilurrying by,

1: lights'pl the face, and it sparkles

the eye; And the dogs with a bark and a

bound, Snap at the crystals as they eddy

around ; The town is alive, iand its

heart in a Ilow, To welrome the coming

of beautiful snow. 1How wil the crowd

goes swaying along, lailing each other

withl hulour and song ; ilow the gay

sleighs, like meteors flash by, lright

for a Iliomnrt, then lost to the eye ;

hinging, Swinging. Lashing theygo. Over

the crest of the beautiful snow ; S(,~e,

so loure when it falls from the sky, To

lbe trampled and tracked by t1housan,ls

of feet, Till it blends with the filth

in the horrible street. Once I was plre

as the snow--but I fell ! Fuell like the

snow-flakes from heaven to hell; Fell to

be trampled as lilth oel the street,

Fell to be scuffed, to be spit on, and

bLtet; I'hleding, Cursing, Dcading to

die; Selling my soul to whoever would

buy; Dealing in shame for a morsel of

bread ; linting the living, and fearing

the dead. Slerciful God i have I fallen

so low ; And yet I was onle like the

beautiful snow. Once I was fair as the

beautiful snow, With an eye like a

crystal, a heart like its glow; Once I

was loved for my innicent graceFlattered

and sought for the charms of my face !

Father, Mother, Sisters all, God and

myself, I have lost by my fall; The

veriest wretch that goes shivering by

Will make n-wide sweep, lest I wander

too nigh; For all that's on or above

m11e, I know, There is nothing that's

pure as the beautliful snow. HIow

strange it should be that this beautiful

snow Should fall on a sinner with

nowhere to go ! How strange it should be

when the night comes ragain, If the snow

and the ice struck my desperate brain,

Faintin, . 1 reezing, Dying alone, ''Too

wicked for prayer, too weak for a in an,

To be healrd in the streets of the crazy

t.sown, Gone mad in the joy of the snow

coming down, To be and to dle in mye

terrible wre, With a bell and a shroud

of the beautifil snow. Hlelpless and

foul as the tramlpled snow, Silner,

despair noth Ch, ist etoplllth low To

lescue the stuil that is lost in sin,

And raise it to life and elljoyment

again. Groaning, Bleeding, Dying for

thee, Thle Crlcified lhrni on the cursed

tree I Ils accents of Illely hang soft

Ion thine car, "Is there mercy for nme?

Will lie heed my weak prayer ?'" S(;o,

I! ill the streamu tilat for sillers

dlid flow, Waish l1e, and I shall be

whit-r than snow I