winter sceneThe Close of the Year.
winter scene
Lookat the picture! It is winter—and the old man is toiling through the deep, deep snow. A heavy burthen is on his back; the sky is dark and gloomy; the scene around is desolate and chill. We can easily fancy that the heart of the aged traveller is heavy; that his limbs are weary; that a damp, cold moisture is upon his brow, and an expression of bitterness and sorrow around his lips; yet he plods stoutly on—and why should he not? If he were to despair, he would but make the snow his pillow, and the sleety drift his winding-sheet. Beside, he is not alone. A cheerful friend is with him; a humble one indeed, yet one that will not desert him, whether in sunshine or storm, in summer’s joy or winter’s sorrow.
There is something of truth and nature in this scene, and old Bob Merry feels that it may be properly placed at the head of his annual goodby. I cannot but entertain the idea that the old man in the cut, may stand for my representative. He has his burthen, and I my cares; he is making his way through the heavy drift, and I too am stumping it on, amid obstacles and difficulties. He has his cheerful friend, beckoning him on, and I, old and decrepit, am attended by the angel of Hope, which ministers to me, even when all beside have deserted me. That hound in the picture may seem to tell the weary and wayworn traveller of the home that is at hand, of the bright hearth that burns for him, of the warm hearts that are ready to receive him. And Hope, the comforter, tells me too, that there are some bright firesides where Bob Merry is a welcome guest; where his monthly visits are not a tax, but a pleasure; where to him the latch of the door is free and the string never pulled in.
These are my fancies—and though they may be but the dreams of a conceited old man, I will still cherish them. Real or fantastic, they lighten my heart, cheer my steps, and give me courage to pursue my journey.
And now, my gentle readers, we are at the close of the old year! May it find you good and happy. We are at the threshold of the new year; may this, too, find you good and happy. What better wish can I utter? And will you continue for twelve months more, the acquaintance which we have so long sustained? Come! Black Eyes, Blue Eyes, and Grey Eyes—one and all—let as pursue our rambles, and I promise still to exert myself for your pleasure and profit! I have some of Bill Keeler’s stories, which I have picked up, and which I intend to give you. I have some curious adventures in South America; some stories of the Old Man in the Corner, and other nuts to crack for you. So, girls and boys, come along!