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The beautiful snow, Filling the sky and the earth below!"

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Selling my soul to whoever would buy, Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,

How the flakes gather and laugh as they go! Hating the living and fearing the dead.

Whirring about in its maddening fun,

It plays in its glee with every one.

Chasing, Laughing,

Hurrying by,

It lights up the face and it sparkles the eye;
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around.
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.

How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song!
How the gay sledges like meteors flash by,-
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye.
Ringing,
Swinging,

Dashing they go

Over the crest of the beautiful snow:
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,

To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by:

Merciful God! have I fallen so low?
And yet I was once like this beautiful snow!

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its
glow;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace,Flattered and sought for the charm of my face.

Father,

Mother,

Sisters all,

God, and myself I have lost by my fall.
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by
Will take a wide sweep, lest I wander too

nigh;

For of all that is on or about me, I know There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful

snow.

How strange it should be that this beautiful

snow

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If the snow and the ice struck my desperate Gone mad in its joy at the snow's coming

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HE birthday of the "Father of his Country!" May it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts! May it ever re-awaken in them a filial veneration for his memory; ever re-kindle the fires of patriotic regard for the country which he loved so well, to which he gave his youthful vigor and his youthful energy, during the perilous period of the early Indian warfare; to which he devoted his life in the maturity of his powers, in the field; to which again he offered the counsels of his wisdom and his experience, as president of the convention that framed our Constitution; which he guided and directed while in the chair of state, and for which the last prayer of his earthly supplication was offered up, when it came the moment for him so well, and so grandly, and so calmly, to die. He was the first man of the time in which he grew. His memory is first and most sacred in our love, and ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell of power and of might.

Yes, gentlemen, there is one personal, one vast felicity, which no man can share with him. It was the daily beauty, and towering and matchless glory of his life which enabled him to create his country, and at the same time, secure an undying love and regard from the whole American people. "The first in the hearts of his countrymen!" Yes, first! He has our first and most fervent love. Undoubtedly there were brave and wise and good men, before his day, in every colony. But the American nation, as a nation, I do not reckon to have begun before 1774. And the first love of that Young America was Washington. The first word she lisped was his name. Her earliest breath spoke it. It still is her proud ejaculation; and it will be the last gasp of her expiring life! Yes; others of our great men have been appreciated-many admired by all;-but him we love; him we all

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