ALL of you are aware that the opening year finds us in the very midst of winter. The days are short, gloomy, and dark. Some, thinking only of the drizzly rain, the bleak winds, the driving tempests, or the blinding snows and pinching cold, may imagine there is no pleasure like that of a warm room and a blazing fire. Quite true, many days in January are altogether uncomfortable. The cold sleet drives in your face, the winds howl about your head, and if forced to face the storm you are glad soon to find a shelter, But this is not all misfortune. It is good even for children sometimes to battle with the tempest. You will find life itself will have its winters. You will have to pass through many a storm. The winds of adversity will rise where least expected, and beat and drive about your path.
It will be well for you in your early days if you learn to brace yourself for the conflict, and now and then face and battle with the fierce elements of a winter’s storm.
Shall I tell you, boys, of one such struggle in the morning of my own life? Many winters have come and gone since then, but the memory of that conflict is as fresh as ever. Christmas Eve was just approaching; I was then an orphan lad, and on that night I was about to start a fifteen mile journey across a wild country, to spend a holiday with a beloved widowed mother. You may not yet have learned the intense joy of such a moment. The morning broke with flakes of snow, descending with all that gentleness that makes such a scene one of the most beautiful in nature. It continued quietly falling all day, and all day the prospect of that journey got darker and darker. But I was young, vigorous, and strong, and my young love laughed at difficulties. The church bells had chimed their ninth hour as I passed from the busy town to the quiet of a country lane. For an hour or two it seemed easy work to wade through the feathery light laid snow; but dark clouds began to gather thick and black; a low moaning sound came melancholy through the leafless trees, then a fitful gust, and soon a howling tempest came headlong on. The heavy clouds rapidly disgorged their feathery load. Fast and blinding the snow seemed to come from all points, and then began the struggle not easily to be forgotten. Certainly, not in England have I seen such a night since then. At every gate or opening in the hedge, the driving wind drifted the snow completely across the country lane. Many times I found myself up to the middle before I could break through the drift. Except the raging storm, not a sound was to be heard, save now and then a farmer’s dog seemed to join in the howl of the tempest. But on and on I struggled; once or twice the dim light from a lonely cottage window tried my courage, and tempted me to beg for shelter, but the joy of a waiting mother’s welcome, and the conviction that even if I stayed all night the snow would still have to be faced (for no coach could travel then), I renewed my failing strength, and on I battled with the storm.
Many a time that night did I lift up my heart to God that He would guide my feet, and keep me from the many deep places by the way side now filled up with snow, into which I might have fallen and perished long before any trace of my whereabouts could have been found. And God, who just before that had saved me from a worse storm—even the storm of divine judgment against my sins—brought me safely through; for after many a rest by the way, and many a failing heart, after eight long hours of terrible struggle, home, sweet comfortable home, was reached at last. I have never forgotten that night, but I have often felt it was not in vain to have had one’s energies and strength and courage tested even to the utmost. So, young friends, if you find the storm beating about your head in the cold bleak days of January, battle with it, and be determined to conquer.
But when the ground is thickly covered with snow, and there is a hard, dry frost, what is more pleasant than to wander through the fields and woods, and what more beautiful than the snow-laden trees, the frozen pools and ice-bound streams?
There are not many wild animals in our country. Wolves, bears, seals, and venomous serpents have long since been exterminated. But where now are the moles, squirrels, hedgehogs, porcupines, field-mice, snakes, lizards, frogs, and bats? Do you know that many of these burrow deep holes in the ground, others find snug sheltered spots in the trees, fall fast asleep, and will remain there for days and weeks without food. What a study for you to find out which they are, and how they manage to live so long in a state of torpor and without food. Should the sun shine warm in the middle of the day, some of these you see frisking about pleased that their nap is over, but the moment the night frost comes, away they go to their holes again.
So, too, is it with the birds, especially when the ground is covered with snow, they are not much to be seen. I often wonder how they all find food, but then God remembers every one. How bold they become at this time; the most timid will come and ask for a few crumbs. I need not tell you of the robin with his quick bright eye: he sings through all weathers. The lark, the thrush, and blackbird will give us a song only on the warmest days. Then you may be amused to see the sparrows picking up straws and hopping in and out of their little holes as if Spring had come, but they soon find out their mistake. The rook, jackdaw, blackbird and thrush will sometimes even have young ones by the end of January.
What too, has become of all insect life? Scarce one is to be seen. Slugs, snails, bees, and butterflies are rarely n ever seen. Now and then, on an extra warm day, you may chance to see an odd one.
And what shall we say about vegetable life? Even in winter you will find many plants putting forth their leaves, and many a little flower too, peeping out, as the snowdrop, the primrose, and some others. But, young friends, on every dry frosty day, sally forth and for yourselves find out much more than I can put on paper, and to see, and hear, and handle, you will find much more interesting, I can tell you.