FOR THE ENQUIRER. THE ICE STORM.
{"character_count": 2920, "word_count": 509, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9236999750137329], "ccnet_perplexity": [2031.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
 Full soon OCT our fair fields to spread.

 And lay all low. T was night! and darkness all profound Reigned here, and there, above, around,

 T was midnight gloom; The raindrops murmured in the breeze, And falling fast as fast they freeze, Adhering to the shrubs and trees,

 Presagng doom. T was morning! but no sun was seen, The earth was wrapped in silver sheen.

 Twas awful, grand; The storm continued, and it froze, Each tiny twig giant grows, And icy monuments arose

 Der all the land. The angel of destruction stood, With sword unsheathed in vengeful mood,

 Prepared to slay: T would seem that the Almighty's hand Was outstretched OCT our guilty land, And bidding thoughtless mortals stand

 In dread dismay. What are those fearful sounds we hear7 Some dread calamity draws near,

 Where shall we run7 That ceaseless cracking, crashing sound, Of branches thickly strewed around, And trees hurled headlong to the ground,

 What can be done? Our fruit and shade trees marr'd and spoiled, Our hopes deferred, our plans are foiled.

 Alas the day! The forests tottered, and they broke, Like grain before the reaper's stroke The hickory and iron oak

 In ruin lay. An me where are those lovely trees, Whose foliage trembled in the breeze.

 In years gone by7 Our fruit trees scathed, are all destroyed. Our forests but a wasting void, And those sweet shades we once enjoyed.

 All wasted lie. Tongue cannot tell, nor pen relate. This scene 90 sad, 90 desolate,

 And yet 50 grand: No skill ofman can count the cost, Nor tell the treasure we have lost, By this all-desolating frost,

 Throughout the land. Yet thanks to Him who rules above. Whose chastisements are sent in love,

 For still we live. We still are on probation ground. Where peace, where virtue may be found, And may our hearts with grace abound.

 And praises give. And should the fg.tree never blow, Nor cluster in the vine should glow,

 Nor olive fill; And if the fields should yield no meat, Nor folded aocks be heard to bleat, Nor lowing herds the ear should greet,

 We'll trust Him still. The following lines were taken from the outside o letter while in the Post Office in Chicago, Illinois.

 ON THE ONE SIDE. On pinions fleet as thought may you Ger hills and dales your course pursue; Nor weary yet, nor stop to rest, Till in that-Eden-the far West, Arrived at-lllinois--you land; In young-Chcago-fair and grand, Then seek-Sir Royal Fox-and see You tell him all I've told to thee.

 ON THE OTHER SIDE. In these hard times for cash and rhymee. Say would it be sin, On the outside for me to write, As there's no room within I'm from Down East, I'm not in jest, Nor bent on speculation, But going West, I'm there to rest. And see some choice relation. I've much to say, but cannot stay. Just now. to tell long stories, That Yankee trait, truly hate. Of boring Wings or Tories.

 Chicago DemOcrat. IRe Sousk .,uesfern Mails-The Pontiac fMss) Un