rs behind the
purple mountain brows, he leaves for only a moment those polar regions,
and leaves even then a clearness behind like the dawn. He soon reappears
in his spotless splendor.

In the winter, however, he yields to night, which, with her dark cortege,
occupies the northern world. She envelops space with her black wings, and
casts the ice and snow from her bosom. Sometimes, for weeks, the storms
are so violent, that one cannot, without danger, venture into the fields;
and cruel necessity alone induces the peasant to take the road, either to
offer something for sale in the nearest market, or to gain a few
shillings as a guide to some adventurous traveler. Sometimes, even the
peasants of this country are afraid to cast their nets in the river, and
gulf, which in the greatest degree contribute to their subsistence.
During the greater portion of the time, the poor people of the north,
secluded in their homes by masses of snow, isolated from their neighbors,
pass whole winters by the fireside. The men occupy themselves in
repairing the harness of their horses, in mending the iron work of their
carriages--for in that country the homes of people are so far from each
other, that each family is forced to provide for its daily wants, and
every peasant is at once saddler, wagon-maker, and carpenter. Women are
busy in weaving and spinning. In many provinces, especially in that in
which the uncle of Ireneus had established himself, there was in
existence an _industry_, which, during the last twenty years, has been
much developed. Every peasant's house is a perfect workshop, for the
manufacture of linen. Woofs, white and fine as those of Holland, and
quite as good, are there produced. This variety of work commences after
harvest. In the autumn evenings, women, young girls, &c., assemble at
different houses, with their distaff or bundle of flax, which they place
before the hearth. It is pleasant, indeed, to see this collection of
industrious women, busied in the performance of the task prescribed to
them, laughing, talking, without sometimes taking time even to listen to
the young lovers who hover around them.

Often a respectable grandmother, the fingers of whom were wrinkled by
age, and which neither weave nor spin, would bid the wild troop be
silent, as she told one of the mad histories of old times. Then, one of
the work-women would merrily ring out the peasant songs, the chorus of
which her companions would re-echo. Afte