defile of the Highlands, each headland making a new echo, until old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.

5. For a time the scudding rack and mist and the sheeted rain almost hid the landscape from the sight. There was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the streams of lightning which glittered among the raindrops. Never had Dolph beheld such an absolute warring of the elements; it seemed as if the storm was tearing and rending its way through the mountain defile, and had brought all the artillery of heaven into action. DEFINITIONS. 1. Lăn’guor (pro. lăng’gwěr), exhaustion of strength, dullness. 3. Re-märked', noticed, observed. Pred-e-çes'sor, the one going immediately before. Clăm'or-ous-ly, with a loud noise. 4. Běl'ly-ing, swelling out. De-file', a long, narrow pass.

5. Răck, thin, flying, broken clouds. including fire, water, earth, and air.

El'e-ments, a term usually

NOTES.-1. The Highlands are a mountainous region in New York, bordering the Hudson River above Peekskill.

2. The Dunderberg and Antony's Nose are names of two peaks of the Highlands.

4. Bull Hill, also called Mt. Taurus, is 15 miles farther north.

XXXVI. APRIL DAY.

Caroline Anne Southey (b 1786, d. 1854), the second wife of Southey the poet, and better known as Caroline Bowles, was born near Lymington, Hampshire, England. Her first work, "Ellen Fitzarthur," a poem, was published in 1820; and for more than twenty years her writings were published anonymously. In 1839 she was married to Mr. Southey, and survived him over ten years. Her poetry is graceful in expression, and full of tenderness, though somewhat melancholy. The following extract first appeared in 1822 in a collection entitled, "The Widow's Tale, and other Poems."

1. ALL day the low-hung clouds have dropped
Their garnered fullness down;

All day that soft, gray mist hath wrapped
Hill, valley, grove, and town.

2. There has not been a sound to-day
To break the calm of nature;
Nor motion, I might almost say,
Of life or living creature;

3. Of waving bough, or warbling bird,
Or cattle faintly lowing;

I could have half believed I heard
The leaves and blossoms growing.

The rain's continuous sound;

Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,
Down straight into the ground.

5. For leafy thickness is not yet
Earth's naked breast to screen,
Though every dripping branch is set
With shoots of tender green.

6. Sure, since I looked, at early morn,
Those honeysuckle buds

Have swelled to double growth; that thorn
Hath put forth larger studs.

7. That lilac's cleaving cones have burst, The milk-white flowers revealing;

Even now upon my senses first

Methinks their sweets are stealing.

8. The very earth, the steamy air,
Is all with fragrance rife!
And grace and beauty everywhere
Are flushing into life.

9. Down, down they come, those fruitful stores,
Those earth-rejoicing drops!
A momentary deluge pours,

Then thins, decreases, stops.

10. And ere the dimples on the stream
Have circled out of sight,

Lo! from the west a parting gleam
Breaks forth of amber light.

11. But yet behold-abrupt and loud,
Comes down the glittering rain;
The farewell of a passing cloud,
The fringes of its train.

DEFINITIONS.

knobs, buds.

1. Gär'nered, laid

treasured. up,

6. Studs,

7. Cleav'ing, dividing. 10. Dim'pleş, small depres

sions. Am'ber, the color of amber, yellow.

XXXVII. THE TEA ROSE.

1. THERE it stood, in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand in the window of the drawing-room. The rich satin curtains, with their costly fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered every rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury, and yet that simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked, its white leaves just touched with that delicious, creamy tint peculiar to its kind its cup so full, so per

fect, its head bending, as if it were sinking and melting away in its own richness. -Oh! when did ever man make anything to equal the living, perfect flower!

revealed something fairer than the rose-a young lady reclining on an ottoman, who was thus addressed by her livelier cousin: "I say, cousin, I have been thinking what you are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York; as, to our consternation, you are determined to do. You know it would be a sad pity to leave it with such a scatter-brain as I am. I love flowers, indeed, that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing which is needful to keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line."

3. "Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence, with a smile; "I have no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum in view for my favorite."

4. "Oh, then you know just what I was going to say. Mrs. Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to you; she was here yesterday, and I was quite pathetic upon the subject; telling her the loss your favorite would sustain, and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be to have it in her greenhouse; it is in such a fine state now, so full of buds. I told her I knew you would like to give it to her; you are so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."

5. "Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged."

"Whom can it be to? you have so few intimates here." "Oh, it is only one of my odd fancies.”

"But do tell me, Florence."

“Well, cousin, you know the little pale giri to whom we give sewing?"

6. "What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd, Florence! This is just another of your motherly, old-maidish ways; dressing dolls for poor children, making bonnets, and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the neighborhood. I do believe you have made more calls in those two vile, ill-smelling alleys behind our house than ever you have in Chestnut Street, though you know every