Also there will come recollections of words even more beautiful and familiar still. "Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth. He giveth snow like wool; He scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes; He casteth forth His ice like morsels. Who can stand before His cold?" "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." Happy are they who, when the first snow falls, are in the position of the virtuous woman described by the king: "She is not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her household are clothed with scarlet."

But, alas! the other half of the world have very little leisure to contemplate the beauties of the snow; they are very much afraid for their households, for in them there is a very great dearth of scarlet, especially scarlet flannel! And the sight of the snow, which the rich contemplate with such philosophic admiration, chills them to the very heart. It may be beautiful when

"The trees have a burden of white,"

and there are wonderful crystals upon the house-tops; but their most intimate acquaintance with it is when it is Trampled and tracked by thousands of feet,

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Till it blends with the filth of the horrible street."

It is with a feeling of great desolation that the poor see the first fall of snow. It is very cold when the sharp frosts set in, but it is possible to get warm if time may be stolen for a brisk walk through the streets, or if the labour in which they are engaged be of an active kind. But the snow is so different. It penetrates the thin soles of wornout boots, it goes through thin shawls and threadbare jackets, it sends the cold creeping up through all the limbs, and brings a shivering and chattering that would terribly frighten comfortable people unused to taking chills. It does even worse things, for it brings back dreaded rheumatic pains, and the hard, tearing cough that gives its victim no chance of rest either by day or night. And to these evils there is small alleviation. Warm blankets cannot be had, and the most freezing sight of all is the cheerless, fireless grate in the almost empty rooms.

The first snow will almost surely exert a softening influence upon the hearts of those to whom God has given an abundance of this world's goods. If only before this has had time to wear off, kindly and charitable intentions were changed into prompt action, how much might be done! It is good to subscribe to soup kitchens and children's dinners, good to feed the starving and clothe the naked. It is even better still—in addition, however, and not in place of the former-to search out for ourselves cases of need and supply them. The sight of the first fall of snow could be better borne if accompanied by the sight of a load of coal at the door. The slushy streets would be less unpleasant if their acquaintance were made with the help of a strong pair of water-tight boots. And the night with its whiteness and silence could be positively enjoyed when contemplated from a snug blanket enclosure.

Let all who admire the snow, and who are not afraid of it, open their hearts to all good influence of compassionate love, and do what they can for their fellows, while for themselves they pray, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."

Winter Walks.

THAT winter is a joyous season none will deny, for it brings in its train leisure, feasting, mirth, and genial society. That it is beautiful, too, with a sort of cold beauty, is also admitted; for the dazzling snow on the mountains and in the valleys, and the mystic frost-pictures hung up for admiration on every morning are convincing proofs of that. But that the winter is a good time for open-air enjoyment is an assertion with which few persons, perhaps, will agree. It is a pleasant season, says General Opinion, for has it not a Christmas gift in its hands? But it is a time for home comforts, for bright rooms and blazing fires, for merry circles of young faces around the table, and groups of tender friends by the hearth. It is a time

of music and songs, and books and conversations, a time of closed shutters and drawn curtains, not a time for walks along the lanes or rambles in the woods.

And surely to quiet, home-loving English hearts the winter is dear because of its fireside enjoyments. But we cannot help thinking that there may be a little too much remaining within the house during the winter. The season is evidently intended to be one of bracing, strengthening, health-giving influences. We, however, make it a very enervating time, by sitting before the fire, and yielding to the soft seductions of our companionable friends." Often a thermometer would prove the atmosphere of our rooms to be above summer heat, but we still remain in them, yielding to the drowsiness and languor that creep over us, until we have little spirit left to face the wintry blast outside. And yet, in the summer time, we desire above all things to get away from the heat, and to be roused from the inertness which it brings, and so we leave the crowded abodes of man, and go forth to the sea shore, or the mountains, where more invigorating breezes can reach us.

But if it be so necessary then, we cannot but think it is at least a little necessary now that the bracing process should be adopted. If fresh cold air is so essential as it is to vigour of body and mind, what a pity to waste it now that it is so plentiful. Why not, once or twice a day at least, tear ourselves away from the fire and shake off the indolence it engenders, and go away to the moors or the hills in search of pleasure and health? There is something exceedingly invigorating in a winter's walk. Of course no one will loiter when the ground is white, and the air tastes like ice, and the rapid movement is in itself a positive good. It is just the kind of exercise of which we cannot well have too much. And the glow that diffuses itself to the very finger tips is not only enjoyable, but beneficial. It is wonderful, too, what a salutary influence is exerted on the mind through the body. We sit by the fire and dream; but we do not dream, we plan, as we tread with elastic steps over the clods of the field or the frozen meadow-grass. We sit by the fire and lament, but we walk in the roads and hope. Life takes quite a different tinge as we contemplate it from the top of the

hill from that which it wears as seen through a parlour window.

There is beauty in the winter, which it is also a pity to lose. We do not now refer to it as exhibited in the brilliant shops or on the illuminated pavement, but as seen by every eye that looks for it abroad in the winter landscape. It is different from that of the genial spring or the verdant summer, but it is no less real. The hedges, bare as they look, have many a wonder still concealed at their roots; and occasionally we come upon a blaze of brightness as the Christmas berries flash upon our view. The trees are, we think, never more beautiful than now when they stand out so clearly against the grey sky. We cannot half see a tree when it is hidden by its rich drapery of foliage. This is the time to admire the symmetry of the giants, and their graceful branches. This is the time to learn what trees really are, to compare or contrast the different species, and make wonderful discoveries respecting them. Look at the oaks, how grand and noble they are, the very personification of strength and majesty. See the birches, with their silvery stems, and drooping, feathery branches, and say if you have ever seen anything more graceful. But if bare beauty is not to your taste, there are still the pines and the yews, the holly and the ivy. Even wild flowers are not altogether absent. In January, severe as it is, primroses and violets may be found in sheltered parts of our English woods.

And even now there is a bright greenness in the grass, and a rich colouring upon the few leaves that are left, which quite suffice to redeem the winter landscape from any accusation of unloveliness.

It is true that the song of the birds is almost entirely hushed, but the winter is not silent. There is marvellous music in the forests now, which has power to move the responsive soul with awe and admiration.

There is a different and a grander sound, too, in the water as heard now, whether it be the mighty voice of the waves of the sea, or the more insignificant monotone of the river, or the splashing and dashing of the waterfall. Everywhere Nature is practising her Christmas carols, and singing glory to God in the highest,

So let us walk ourselves, and remember to send the

children out too, unless, indeed, they are not strong enough to bear the biting blast. Let all healthy boys go out into the cold that they may become sturdy and brave men. And let us all with gladness of heart thank God for the winter with its pure air and happy associations.

The Eountry in Winter.

Ir is generally understood that village life in winter is a thing to be deprecated and shunned. It is supposed to be a state of existence which is nearly akin to that led by the dormouse; and this is a supposition which has some foundation, as would appear to any person who should walk through a small village between the hours of nine and ten in the evening. The houses which here and there are seen dimly in the darkness are not illuminated by so much as a rush-light, and the silence is so profound that it is evidently the dead of the night with the inhabitants, who are in their winter sleep. Wise people they are too, for where gas is not, and tall ghostly trees stretch out naked arms, and the mighty master frost has locked up fields and ponds, what is the good of remaining awake to gaze on nothingness?

And yet, those who spend the winter in the midst of noisy cities do not know what pleasant dreams they have who are hidden away in the country through the winter. Nor is the time spent altogether in dreaming, there is a little doing also. The churches and chapels decorated with the Christmas greenery are the meeting places of the villagers for many purposes, but most of all for the worship of God, and so the winter is their time for religious revivals. They have to make hay while the sun shines, but when for days and weeks the sun does not shine they have leisure and inclination too to turn their thoughts to higher and better things, and to learn more than they knew of the Sun of Righteousness, who can bring a summer gladness into the dearth and coldness of their winter. The