This all discharged, perhaps for months there lies One vast white sheet which screens the plants below From biting frosts, while easier to and fro The settlers move in their convenient sleighs.

These heed not cold if they have hearts aglow With friendly feelings, but will speed for days Along the snow-paved roads and on some strange highways.

XXIII.

At such a time Goodworth and eldest son Left home and all its inmates in G.o.d's care; But ere they had their first day's journey done A circ.u.mstance occurred by no means rare.

An English emigrant had settled where The woods were heavy and no neighbors near.

He had partaken of the morning's fare And armed with axe dreamt not of cause for fear-- Thought he'd be back at noon to wife and children dear.

XXIV.

But noontide came and brought no father fond To take his place and share the frugal meal.

They little knew that his loved form beyond In that dark wood could no emotion feel.

The loving wife could very ill conceal Dread thoughts which rose within her faithful breast.

Should he be dead her own and children's weal Were fled forever. So, with mind distressed She went to search the woods and gave herself no rest.

XXV.

At last she came to where a huge tree lay Athwart the body of the hapless man.

By grief distracted there she could not stay, But up the road with frightful speed she ran.

Soon she met Goodworths and forthwith began To tell her tale most incoherently.

Few words were needful at such a time to fan Love's flame in them or make them prove to be Both Good Samaritans to that poor family.

XXVI.

They took her up and tried to calm her mind Until they came to that soul-harrowing scene.

Now all alight; ere long the axe they find, Which had so late the man's companion been.

His stiffened corpse was wedged quite fast between The tree and frozen earth, and naught remained But first the widow with sleigh-robes to screen From bitter cold; and this point having gained They soon cut through the tree, so well had they been trained.

XXVII.

It then became their melancholy duty To take the lifeless form from the sad spot.

And now the widow in sweet, mournful beauty Directs the new-found friends to her log cot.

A tearless eye within that home was not-- All felt the dreadful nature of the loss Which had that day occurred, for naught could blot His great worth from their minds. He ne'er was cross To those who clung to him as to the tree the moss.

XXVIII.

To leave this family in such piteous state Was out of question, so young GOODWORTH took The horses out--for now 'twas growing late-- To quench their thirst at a clear purling brook, And gave them food within a sheltered nook; Then found some boards and made a coffin rude.

Meanwhile the father took G.o.d's holy Book And read such portions as teach fort.i.tude To us, that all immoderate grief may be subdued.

XXIX.

'Twas well that mother long had known the Lord, For wondrous strength is now to her imparted; And each clear promise in the Holy Word Proved balm unto her soul, though much she smarted.

In both the GOODWORTHS she found friends warm hearted, Friends who could give their love and sympathy; And ere they from her humble home departed They showed such proofs of generosity As did with their profession very well agree.

x.x.x.

For such a work by sad experience trained, They soon proceeded to lay out the dead; And though fatigued they ne'er of it complained.

Nor would they let the widow spread a bed For their joint use, but sat and watched instead.

_She_, much refreshed by prayer and conversation Retired to rest her weaned heart and head.

_They_ spent the night in solemn contemplation Or read that precious Book which does unfold Salvation.

x.x.xI.

When morning came their plans were well matured, And each went off to tell the mournful news.

Ere noon appeared a.s.sistance they secured, For help at such time who can well refuse?

Some brought their tools which they knew how to use, And dug a grave in the selected spot.

There round it grew no stately, somber yews, But these and other things it needed not To be fit resting-place for one not soon forgot.

x.x.xII.

When all was ready GOODWORTH lent support To the bereaved one following the bier.

In sweet-toned language he did her exhort To look to Him who "bottles up each tear"

His children shed while in deep sorrow here.

They reached the grave, where she with firmness stood And felt such comfort as dispelled her fear.

Such fruits spring from true Christian Brotherhood To all who rest their hopes on Christ's atoning blood.

x.x.xIII.

Due rites performed, the settlers flock around The widowed mother and warm offers make Of humble service, with respect profound.

_This_ wished the boy and _that_ the girl to take, And treat them well for their dear parents' sake.

She heard these offers with much thankfulness, But said to part with them her heart would break-- Would miss them, too, in this her sad distress, And they could get along if G.o.d their efforts bless.

x.x.xIV

That night the Pastor ventured to enquire What were her prospects? Did she money need?

The answer made he could not but admire: "Her G.o.d had ever proved a friend indeed; Cheered by His promises which she could plead, She doubted not He would them still protect, And, make their labors on the farm succeed; Her boy was strong, and had such great respect For what was right that he his work would not neglect."

x.x.xV.

Next day the friends prepared again to start On their cold journey soon as it was light.

Both urged their hostess freely to impart To them from time to time her prospects bright Or the reverse, as she might deem it right.

In fervent prayer they her to G.o.d commend, Then bade Farewell and soon were out of sight They reached that day their lengthy journey's end, And gained a hearty welcome from their loving friend.

x.x.xVI.

That friend lived in a village destined soon To show few traces of the times gone past When its fair site was woods where the rac.o.o.n, The bear, and wolf had munched their stolen repast.

In wealth and people 'twas increasing fast, But not in morals--these were very low; Yet some there lived who roused themselves at last And with great vigor met the monster foe-- Ev'n vile Intemperance--to give him his death blow.

x.x.xVII.

This end they hoped for by the simple means Of total abstinence from liquors strong.

The frequent use of these gives rise to scenes Which all good men would scorn to be among.

Vile oaths, the boisterous mirth, the wanton song, Were constant heard within each horrid den Where these vile drinks were retailed all day long.

'Twas sad indeed to view such filthy pen Filled with poor ruined wretches who once had been men.

x.x.xVIII.

Throughout the village there were many such, And as a consequence great mischief done.

It is surprising and has grieved me much To think our Magistrates have laurels won By doing what all devils view as fun!