3. And as the wind passed over it, the stream shot upward many a glancing beam of delight; and it dimpled, and quivered in the sunlight, and tripped along, a livelier stream than before. How happy it was'! "The flattered stream, the simpering' stream, The fond, delighted, silly' stream!” 4. Then away flew the wandering breeze, over the fields covered with flowers, kissing in his course many sparkling springs, and other streams, and rivers blue. But, alas'! he left that little stream to wander all alone'! "The flattered stream, the cheated stream, The sad, forsaken, lonely' stream!" 5. But the careless wind-cruel wanderer that he was— never came back! He is still a gay rover, far away in distant lands. And the little stream flows on, but always complaining. "The cheated' stream, the hopeless' stream, The ever-murmuring, mourning' stream. [In this fanciful account of the Wind and Stream, life and action, as of rational persons, are attributed to both. What figure of speech is this? (See p. xi.) The entire lesson is, therefore, an example of what?] CALM, PEACE, AND LIGIIT. THERE is a calm, the poor in spirit know, That softens sorrow, and that sweetens woe; When dangers thicken, and when tempests lower; That peace remains when all beside is riven; THERE are three modes of bearing the ills of life: by seeming indifference, which is the most common; by philosophy, which is the most ostentatious; and by religion, which is the most effectual. Meadow Stream. Mountain Stream. 1. THE little flowers, and the shrubs, and the trees had all told their stories, and were waiting anxiously for the streams to tell theirs. Not a whisper from the gentlyswaying grass was heard; not a breath from the flowers; not a rustle from the fern-leaves; not a movement from the aspen; and even the pine, away up on the mountain, had ceased his melancholy moaning. 2. Ah, that silence of the forest'! Who does not know it'? To whom has it not appeared as a holy Sabbath for the young flowers that dwell there'? Even the stag breathes more gently; and the sportsman himself, overwhelmed with a holy, loving awe, falls on the grass in the calm recesses of the wood. Then the babble of the streams may be heard. That is the time when they tell old stories. 3. "Do you know where I come from' ?" said the Meadow-stream'. "I come clearly out over some stone or little mound-a small but bright spring, with a joyous laugh, cheeks as fair as crystal, and the sparkle of health in my eye; and then I grow larger and larger, so that the short grassy dress I first wore is no longer sufficient-however tall, for love of me, it tries to make itself. Then I put on a short bodice of rushes, with loose, flowing feathersand away I wander "through meadows green;" and many a merry schoolboy is happy-oh, how happy!-to ramble with me." 4. This was a short and a very pretty story. But I suppose the half was not said; for the blushing stream told not of the song she sung to allure the truant schoolboy away-away-nor how the barefooted and bare-armed urchin loved to play with her shining tresses. But the tall grass, and the rushes, and the golden-haired cowslip gently nodded their heads, as much as to say, “We know." 5. Then the Mountain-stream began-and this is the tale she told. "Do you see the snow, lying away up there on the mountain-heights'? It is the everlasting cap that rests on their bald heads, to keep them warm-dyed only by the rising and setting sun, and adorned by the clouds, as they pass and repass, with vails of unrivaled. beauty. 6. "But although seemingly cold, and cheerless, and unchangeable, gay life reigns within. There are little springs bubbling through the clefts, and drops of water playing eternal hide-and-seek up there in the mountaingorges. The all-powerful sun kisses the mountain-tops, and their ice-cold heart is melted by his eternal love." 7. "But what has all this to do with your birth and history'?" interrupted the impatient sunflower, as he flauntcdd his great yellow cap in the sun. "The Sun must be the father of the Mountain-stream," whispered the modest violet; but, frightened at her sudden boldness, she covered her face with her purple hood and said no more. 8. "Will you wait'!" asked the Mountain-stream'. "Will you hear my story through' ?" When all was quiet, the Mountain-stream began again. "The fountains," said she, "up on the mountain - heights, are the children of these kisses of the sun; and there they play at hide-and-seek till their home is too narrow for them, and then they desire to roam abroad. 9. "But when they first catch a glimpse of the far world lying beneath them, they are frightened, and overcome, and do not receive courage to go on till they are joined by other curious little streams; and then they proceed--first slowly and cautiously, afterward faster and faster, till at length I, a bright mountain-stream, burst forth, springing from rock to rock like the wild goat, whose mountain-home is likewise close by. 10. "Sometimes I foam on high, like the snow of the mountain; sometimes I flow, shining clearly, an unbroken mirror, like the ice of the glaciers; and then, descending into the valley, I quietly repose in the midst of nature's calm beauty, as you now see me." 11. Scarcely had she finished her story, when the trees up the mountain-side began to sway to and fro, and to kiss their rough hands in salutation to the Mountain-stream: the hemlock and the pine sent down their hoarse greeting, and, to crown all, the big gun of the mountain was fired, which sounded like the distant roar of the avalanche. e 12. When all was still again, the Wood-stream thus began: "I am a child of the Ocean," said she. "We streams are all children of the same parent, whether all know it or not, and whether we are first seen sparkling in some lone forest-dell, or shining, like crystal, on some mountaintop. The mighty ocean is the mother of us all. I can tell you more of our childhood than my sisters have told you. 13. "But how came we here, do you ask'? A little fairy, that sat on a shining cloud arranging her ornaments, saw us, and stole us away from our mother's arms. Up, up she carried us, almost to the stars, before she let us go; and we were so little, and so light, that we floated away on the air, and were borne about on the wings of the wind. 14. "My sisters of the mountain, cold and haughty, flew gently down to earth, and rested a long time on the mountain-top; but when the sun kissed them, they were melted by his love. My more gentle sisters of the meadow and the plain came down with me in the falling dews and gentle rain: they alighted in the meadows, and in the more distant woodland. And now, if you would know who I am, I am the tear of the forest; and, like the tear of man, I spring from the heart-the hidden heart of the forest. 15. "In the summer, when so many children of the plain are destroyed, I flow gently, but unceasingly. In the autumn, when every thing says farewell, I weep in silent sorrow over the blossoms and leaves which fall in my way. In the wild solitude of winter I am benumbed, and the tear becomes a pearl, like the closed grief of our mother the Ocean, when she dwells under arctic skies. Then I hang with faint lustre on stones and roots, which look like weeping eyes. 16. "In the spring, when desire rises in every breast, the tear of the forest flows in pensives joy. I stretch beyond the borders of my course, greeting flowers and grass as far as I can. Then the heaving rush presses itself nearer and nearer to me; the sensitive forget-me-not glances at me, as you have seen blue eyes at parting; and the weeping willow hangs her branches down to my eternally murmuring waves. 17. "Even the stone which stops my course-the hardhearted stone, over which time passes unmarked-weeps over me transparent tears; and my kisses are the only things to which he does not oppose himself. But we all -my sisters and myself-seek our old home in the mighty deep. Thither we bend forward with longing arms; and in tears of joy we shall all rest again upon our mother's bosom." 18. The Wood-stream ceased. Once more deep silence |