“My mother’s heart beat high; her thoughts became so much confused that it was some time before she could command them sufficiently to decide upon what this nameless treasure could be. She fancied she heard the quivering of the angel’s wings, as he rose into the air to depart; and, in an agony of despair lest she should lose for ever this precious gift, she struggled to utter the wish which now was uppermost, but in her effort to speak, she awoke.
“Now tell me, my friends, what was the wish that trembled on her lips, and you will have my word.”
I guessed it, and told some dull story which is not worth repeating; the rest of the company told theirs; but as I have not time for all, I will go on at once to Caroline, who, with a pretty little blush, thus began:—
“Three young children were coming down the Mississippi with their father in a sort of a boat which they call there a pirogue. They landed on a desert island in that wide river, in a bitter snowy evening in the month of December; their father left them on the island, promising to return after he had procured some brandy at a house on the opposite bank. He pushed off in his little boat to cross the river, but the wind was high, and the water rough.—The children watched him with tears in their eyes, struggling in his pirogue against the stream, till about half way across, when they saw the boat sink—and never more saw their father. Poor children! they were left alone, exposed to the storm, without fire, shelter, or even food, except a little corn.
“As the night came on, the snow fell faster, and the eldest, who was a girl of only six years old, but very sensible and steady for her age, made her little sister and her infant brother creep together close to her, and she drew their bare feet under her clothes. She had collected a few withered leaves and branches to cover them, and in this manner they passed the long winter’s night. Next morning she tried to support her poor weeping companions by giving them corn to chew, and sometimes she made them run about with her to keep themselves warm.
“In this melancholy state you may imagine what was her joy, when, in the course of the day, she discovered a vessel—no—a boat approaching the island. It happily contained some good-natured Indians, who took compassion on the children, shared their food with them, and safely conveyed them to New Madrid in their own boat.”
The mistake that poor Caroline made in saying vessel for boat, and then correcting herself with a little confusion, betrayed her; so that the moment she ended her story, every one exclaimed “Boat,” “Boat.”
19th.—In the morning we had a shower of hail, and since seven o’clock it has been snowing constantly the whole day. I am delighted with its pure, beautiful, feathery appearance; besides, it has brought back to my mind little shadows of things that happened before we left England. The ground all white, and the large blazing fire, remind me of the time when we were at Montague Hall, when my grandfather used to employ me to gather the crumbs at breakfast, to put out of the windows for the poor little starving birds. I believe it was that circumstance that gave me such a love of birds; for I am sure I can recollect the happiness I used to feel when feeding them along with good grandpapa, and watching all their little motions.
My uncle was amused with my exclamations of delight at the snow, and he was good enough to shew me that each flake has a star-like appearance, consisting of five or six rays that diverge from the centre; and that from each of these rays little spicula shoot out, which by crossing each other form a beautiful net-work. He says that when clouds are formed at such a height in the air as that the temperature there is below 32°, the particles of moisture become congealed or frozen. If the particles are small, or if they are slowly frozen, they become snow, which gradually descends to the earth; but it often happens that the atmosphere near the earth is so warm as to re-dissolve the snow while falling, so that it comes down in the shape of rain. “This,” he added, “cannot take place with hail, because it is so much more solid, and falls so rapidly, that the warmth of the lower atmosphere has not time to melt it, before it reaches the ground. In summer, therefore, snow may be formed at a great elevation, as people who have ascended in balloons have more than once witnessed, but it again becomes rain in its descent; whereas, hail, for the reason I have given you, has been known to come down in the hottest months of the year.”
I reminded him that he had not told me why the moisture should sometimes freeze into flakes of snow, and sometimes into the pretty little round balls of hail.