Monthly magazine coverMERRY'SMUSEUM.APRIL, 1843.Vol. V. No. 4.The Seasons.WINTER.
Monthly magazine cover
MERRY'SMUSEUM.
APRIL, 1843.Vol. V. No. 4.
WINTER.
Winteris a noisy, blustering, bustling season, though in general he keeps himself cool. Even as early as November he seems already impatient to begin his sway. If you leave a door ajar, he slams it wide open and comes puffing in, and blows the newspaper into the fire, oversets the clothes-horse, and cuts sundry other capers of the sort. He takes advantage of every still night to steal into the garden and pinch off the heads of the flowers. He mounts everyblack cloud, and from it sends down a flurry of sleet, hail or snow. In December he clutches the reins of government, and in a few days,
——congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee,And places a snowy perukeOn the head of each baldpated tree;* * * * *And a black wreck of clouds is seen to flyIn broken shatters through the frighted sky.
——congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee,And places a snowy perukeOn the head of each baldpated tree;* * * * *And a black wreck of clouds is seen to flyIn broken shatters through the frighted sky.
——congeals every brook,
That murmured so lately with glee,
And places a snowy peruke
On the head of each baldpated tree;
* * * * *
And a black wreck of clouds is seen to fly
In broken shatters through the frighted sky.
SPRING.
Though winter seems impatient to begin his work, he is as loath to quit it. In March it is time for him to depart, but he may be compared to a crocodile, who, having paid you a visit and staid as long as he ought, pretends to go away: but while he puts his head and body out of doors, leaves his huge tail writhing, bending and brandishing behind. Thus, during March, winter’s tail is left to annoy us with squalls, gusts, tempests, rain, hail, snow. There often seems to be a strife between the seasons, spring and winter alternately getting the ascendency. But, after a while the latter finds his icicles melting away, and to avoid being reduced to a stream of water, he slowly retreats, first to New England, lingering along the Green Mountains, till, pursued by the Genius of flowers, he goes across Hudson’s Bay and hides himself behind the hills of Greenland, or creeps like a woodchuck, into Symmes’s Hole, till he can venture out again with safety.
One of the first and most delightful signs of spring is the return of the birds. The gentle bluebird comes first, with her liquid notes, chanting at early morn the glad tidings of the departure of winter. Then comes the robin, full of business; then the sparrow and the wren; then the woodpecker is heard drumming in the wood; and then the pigeons are seen shooting swiftly by in thousands; and then the wild geese,
——lone wandering but not lost,
——lone wandering but not lost,
——lone wandering but not lost,
high in the air, night and day, are heard and seen in their long journey to the lakes. Spring, indeed, is so full of pleasant things, that we are well paid for the wearisomeness of winter by its return.
SUMMER.
May glides gently into June, which is the most beautiful of all themonths—
In fullest bloom the damask rose is seen,Carnations boast their variegated dye;The fields of corn display a vivid green,And cherries with the crimson orient vie;The hop in blossom climbs the lofty pole,Nor dreads the lightning, though the thunders roll.The vegetable world is all alive;Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn.The infant bees now swarm about the hive,And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn.Millions of embryos take the wing to fly;The young inherit, and the old ones die.
In fullest bloom the damask rose is seen,Carnations boast their variegated dye;The fields of corn display a vivid green,And cherries with the crimson orient vie;The hop in blossom climbs the lofty pole,Nor dreads the lightning, though the thunders roll.The vegetable world is all alive;Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn.The infant bees now swarm about the hive,And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn.Millions of embryos take the wing to fly;The young inherit, and the old ones die.
In fullest bloom the damask rose is seen,
Carnations boast their variegated dye;
The fields of corn display a vivid green,
And cherries with the crimson orient vie;
The hop in blossom climbs the lofty pole,
Nor dreads the lightning, though the thunders roll.
The vegetable world is all alive;Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn.The infant bees now swarm about the hive,And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn.Millions of embryos take the wing to fly;The young inherit, and the old ones die.
The vegetable world is all alive;
Green grows the gooseberry on its bush of thorn.
The infant bees now swarm about the hive,
And the sweet bean perfumes the lap of morn.
Millions of embryos take the wing to fly;
The young inherit, and the old ones die.
AUTUMN.
I have heard a person, who had travelled in different countries, say, that he would like to spend the spring in Italy, the summer in England, the winter in the island of Cuba, and the autumn in the United States. It is a season “when the moon stays longest for the hunter;” when
The trees cast down their fruitage, and the blitheAnd busy squirrel hoards his winter store;While man enjoys the breeze that sweeps alongThe bright blue sky above him, and that bendsMagnificently all the forest’s pride,Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks,‘What is there saddening in the autumn leaves?’
The trees cast down their fruitage, and the blitheAnd busy squirrel hoards his winter store;While man enjoys the breeze that sweeps alongThe bright blue sky above him, and that bendsMagnificently all the forest’s pride,Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks,‘What is there saddening in the autumn leaves?’
The trees cast down their fruitage, and the blithe
And busy squirrel hoards his winter store;
While man enjoys the breeze that sweeps along
The bright blue sky above him, and that bends
Magnificently all the forest’s pride,
Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks,
‘What is there saddening in the autumn leaves?’
In many minds, however, this season is associated with melancholy images, but they are such as bring pleasure, rather than pain. Who that has readthe following lines, descriptive of the close of autumn, has not felt their soothing influence?
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead,They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread,—The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day.Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood,In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?Alas! they all are in their graves—the gentle race of flowersAre lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours;The rain is falling where they lie—but the cold November rainCalls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead,They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread,—The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day.Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood,In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?Alas! they all are in their graves—the gentle race of flowersAre lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours;The rain is falling where they lie—but the cold November rainCalls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead,
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread,—
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood,In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?Alas! they all are in their graves—the gentle race of flowersAre lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours;The rain is falling where they lie—but the cold November rainCalls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood,
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves—the gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours;
The rain is falling where they lie—but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
THE REVOLUTIONS OF THE EARTH.
Thus I have given you a somewhat poetical view of the four seasons; and by what contrivance do you imagine that so much beauty, comfort and happiness are brought about? It is by mechanism, more ingenious, more wonderful than all the contrivances of man. I will try to make you understand this.
Let it be remembered that the sun is firmly stationed in the centre of a vast circle, called the earth’s orbit. The earth continues to whirl along in this orbit, going entirely round the sun once every year. It is kept in motion very much as a boy whirls an apple tied to a string around his head; as the apple cannot fly away from the boy on account of the string, so the earth cannot fly away from the sun on account of the attraction between the two, which operates as a string to tie the earth to the sun and keep it in its orbit.
Well; now imagine the earth moving around the sun once every year. But you must recollect that the earth is also whirling round every twenty-four hours upon its own axis, and this axis runs north and south. One end of the axis is called the north pole, and points always to the north; the other is called the south pole, and always points to the south. But it so happens, that at one time, this axis inclines more to the sun than it does at another. When the north pole is inclined towards the sun, the rays will fall more directly on the northern portions of the earth. This will cause summer at the north and winter at the south. And when the south pole is inclined towards the sun, it is summer at the south, and winter at the north.
Thus you see the rotation of the sun on its own axis every twenty-four hours produces day and night; and the annual movement of the earth around the sun, with the different inclinations of its axis to the sun, produces the wonderful changes of the seasons, which we have noticed.
Alexander and his Mother.—Olympias, the mother of Alexander, was of so very unhappy a disposition, that he could not employ her in any of the affairs of government. She, however, narrowly inspected the conduct of others, and made many complaints to her son, which he always bore with patience. Antipater, Alexander’s deputy in Europe, once wrote a long letter to him, while he was in Asia, complaining of her conduct; to whom Alexander returned this answer; “Knowest thou not that one tear of my mother’s will blot out a thousand such letters?”