Journeying, in long serenity, away. y. BRYANT-October.

The faint old man shall lean his silver head To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,

And dry the moistened curls that overspread His temples, while his breathing grows more deep.

a. BRYANT-The Evening Wind.

Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find

The perfumes thou dost bring?

By brooks, that through the winding meadows wind,

Or brink of rushy spring?

Or woodside, where, in little companies,

The early wild flowers rise,

Or sheltered lawn, where, mid encircling trees,

May's warmest sunshine lies? b.

BRYANT May Evening. St. 2.

At midnight, while reposing on my couch,
His stealthy hand came feeling at my door
And at the lattice, till the frozen glass
Pealed out like bells held in the fairy hands
Which wrote the flourishes in frost-work
there:

Thrusting his arm through every open pane, Rattling the blinds, and scaring sleep away

Piping a low base on the chimney's flute,
Unhinging careless gates, and swinging signs,
And with his lips upon a thousand tubes
At once, blew a loud universal blast.

d. GEORGE W. BUNGAY-The Night Wind.

· CUNNINGHAM-A Wet Sheet and a
Flowing Sea.

The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of
their charge.

Sometimes it comes like a low swift song, And all things grow calm as the strain floats along.

p.

HONE-Everyday Book. P. 1285.
Improvisatrice.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen and it cheers me long.
q. LONGFELLOW-- Woods in Winter.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;

I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.

1. LONGFELLOW A Day of Sunshine. ·
The wind is rising; it seizes and shakes
The doors and window-blinds, and makes
Mysterious moanings in the halls;
The convent-chimneys seem almost
The trumpets of some heavenly host,
Setting its watch upon our walls!

S. LONGFELLOW-Christus. Divine Tragedy. The Third Passover. First Interlude.

Call things by their names

Glass of brandy and water! That is the current, but not the appropriate name; ask for a glass of liquid fire and distilled damnation. f. ROBERT HALL-Gregory's Life of Hall.

What cannot wine perform? It brings to light
The secret soul; it bids the coward fight;
Gives being to our hopes, and from our hearts
Drives the dull sorrow, and inspires new arts.
Is there a mith whom bumpers have not taught
A flow of words, a loftiness of thought?
Even in th' oppressive grasp of poverty
It can enlarge, and bid the soul be free.
g.
HORACE.

Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy. h.

SAM'L JOHNSON-Boswell's Life of

Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much;

Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. COWPER- The Task. Bk. VI. Line 96.

v.

They whom truth and wisdom lead Can gather honey from a weed.

w.

COWPER-The Pine-Apple and Bee.
Line 35.

Wisdom and goodness are twin-born, one

heart

Must hold both sisters, never seen apart. a. COWPER — Expostulation. Line 634. In idle wishes fools supinely stay, Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way. y. CRABBE-The Birth of Flattery.

The end of wisdom is consultation and deliberation.

Z. DEMOSTHENES.

Wisdom's self

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her
wings,

That in the various bustle of resort,
Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
0. MILTON-Comus. Line 375.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that golden key,
That opes the palace of eternity.

p.
Wisdom, slow product of laborious years,
The only fruit that life's cold winter bears.
Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay,
By the fierce storm of passion torn away;
Should some remain in a rich gen'rous soil,
They long lie hid, and must be rais'd with
toil;

MILTON-Comus. Line 12.

Faintly they struggle with inclement skies,
No sooner born than the poor planter dies.
զ.
LADY MONTAGU-Written at Louvere.