To our Readers.
We regret that we are obliged to omit, this week, the continuation of Bill Keeler’s story of the Lottery Ticket, as well as some other articles intended for this number.
We must also defer till another number several interesting letters from our correspondents.
The Snow-Flakes.
WORDS AND MUSIC WRITTEN FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
“Gently, gently falls the snow,
Lightly, lightly, soft and slow;
Pretty crystals, tell me why,
Leave thy home in yonder sky?
“All above is pure and true,
Pretty snow-flakes—just like you.
Then why in heaven take thy birth,
Yet seek a home on this dark earth?”
Thus I spoke, and seem’d to hear
A gentle spirit whisper near—
“Though from heaven the snow-flakes fall,
And mix with earth—the fate of all—
“When their winter task is done,
They’ll melt and mingle with the sun;
And, with his beams, in dew-drops rise,
Pure as before, to yonder skies.”