sweeping away the superabundant moisture from earth and air. Oh! blithe and animating is the breath of March! It is like a cool but spirit-stirring draught of some ancient vintage; elating but not enervating the heart; deadening the memory of past evil, and expanding it to the delicious hope of future delights. So precious a boon, however, is not exclusively permitted to March: February is often allowed to be a liberal partaker ere its close, and we have known the winds lift up their voices this month with all their triumphant and sonorous energy. Nothing can perhaps illustrate so livingly our idea of a spirit, as a mighty wind-present in its amazing power and sublimity, yet seen only in its effects. We are whirled along with its careering torrent with irresistible power; we are driven before it, as Miss Mitford says, as by a steam-engine. How it comes rushing and roaring over the house, like the billows of a mighty ocean! Then for the banging of doors, the screaming and creaking of signs, the clatter of falling shutters in the street! Then for the crash of chimneys, the down-toppling of crazy gables, the showering of tiles upon the pave ment, as if the bomb-shells of a besieging army were demolishing the roofs, and rendering it even death to walk the streets! Then for a scene of awful grandeur upon the glorious ocean! That which, but an hour before, was calm and sun-bright, a variety of vessels lying at anchor, or sailing to and fro in serene beauty, then is a scene of sublime and chaotic uproar !—the waves rolling and foaming, and dashing their spray over rocks, pier-heads, houses, and even over the loftiest towers and churches too, as I have seen it, to an amazing extent, till the water ran down the walls like rain, and the windows, at a great distance from the beach, were covered with a salt incrustation-the vessels meanwhile labouring amidst the riotous billows as for life, and tugging at their cables, as if mad for their escape. Many a beautiful, many a wild, many an animating spectacle is to be witnessed on the shores of our happy isle in such moments. What anxious groups are collected on the quays of populous ports! What lonely peril is encountered on distant strands, where the solitary fisherman picks up a troubled and precarious livelihood! Then too for the most animated scene which sweeping away the superabundant n from earth and air. Oh! blithe and ing is the breath of March! It is lik but spirit-stirring draught of some vintage; elating but not enervating the deadening the memory of past evil, : panding it to the delicious hope of fu lights. So precious a boon, however exclusively permitted to March: Feb often allowed to be a liberal partaker close, and we have known the winds their voices this month with all their t ant and sonorous energy. Nothing c haps illustrate so livingly our idea of as a mighty wind-present in its a power and sublimity, yet seen only in fects. We are whirled along with its ing torrent with irresistible power; driven before it, as Miss Mitford says, steam-engine. How it comes rushing at ing over the house, like the billows of a ocean! Then for the banging of do screaming and creaking of signs, the cl falling shutters in the street! Then crash of chimneys, the down-toppling gables, the showering of tiles upon th 1 TO пerene of Sublime and chaotic "olling not "Damarg, unt wer neka Ter-lenus, Ave seen 1. D amazing moments What anxous oilected on the quays of popious o for the most animated scene which er it! which Cous ac 1ling of gladSpring. egetain the Bardens rom the are ac the inland country can exhibit in all the twelve months, a scene mixed with no slight touches of the grotesque. Wherever you go, the people, perhaps suddenly aroused from the tranquil fireside of a Sunday afternoon, are swarming upon the roofs of their houses like bees startled from their cells, by the unexpected appearance of some formidable intruder, toiling to resist the outrageous attack of the storm upon the thatch; which is, here and there, torn clean from the rafters, and in other places heaves and pants as if impatient to try a flight into the next fields, or garden. There is an universal erection of ladders, a bustling, anxious laying-on of logs, rails, harrows, or whatever may come to hand to keep down the mutinous roof. Old wives, with spectacled noses, and kerchiefs incontinently tied over their mob-caps, are seen reconnoitring pig-sties, hen-roosts, etc. lest they be blown down, or something be blown down upon them. What a solemn and sublime roar too there is in the woods-a sound as of tempestuous seas! Whatever poetical spirit can hear it without being influenced by incommunicable ideas of power, majesty, and the stupendous energies of the elements ! Oh storm and darkness, ye are wondrous strong! |