of the cloud in feet. Hence, when a very short time elapses. between the flash and the thunder, the cloud is very near. There is a peculiar sublimity attending thunder-storms in mountainous regions. The traveler among the Andes frequently hears the thunder roll, and sees the lightning flash from the clouds that gather around the hills far beneath him, while around his path, and on the hights above him, the sun is shining with unclouded splendor. ANONYMOUS. LESSON LXXXIV. THE BEAUTY OF CLOUDS. THE clouds! the clouds! they are beautiful, Their snowy company; And, as the wind springs up, they start, And before the course of the breezes dart, The clouds the clouds! how change their forms And now a glancing sunbeam warms, And now they look cold as death. The clouds! the clouds! round the sun at night That are only bright in the master's light, And each in his glory laves. Oh, they are lovely, lovely then, When the heaven around them glows; The clouds! the clouds! in the starlit sky, Now they hide the deep blue firmament: From the jeweled brow of a queen. The clouds! the clouds! they are the lid The thunder's majesty. Oh, how their warning is proclaimed And the tempest's deadliest shafts are aimed The clouds the clouds! my childish days But here and there a feeling stays, That never can grow cold: And the love of nature is one of these, In watching the passing clouds. MISS M. A. BROWNE. LESSON LXXXV. THE ZEPHYR'S SOLILOQUY. I flit in the days of the joyous Spring, I part her locks with my pinion's tip; Or brighten her cheek with my fond caress, And breathe in the folds of her lightsome dress. On the lily neck of the laughing girl; To dry the tear of the weeping boy, Who's breaking his heart for a broken toy: To fan the heat of his brow away, I love, when the warrior mails his breast, When the bright fresh showers have just gone by, And I and my race have a jubilee! We fly to the gardens, and shake the drops When I go to the cheek where I kissed the rose, And 't is turning as white as the mountain snows, While the eye of beauty must soon be hid Forever beneath its sinking lid, Oh! I'd give my whole self but to spare that gasp, And save her a moment from death's cold grasp ! And when she is borne to repose alone 'Neath the fresh cut sod, and the church-yard stone, I keep close by her, and do my best To lift the dark pall from the sleeper's breast; When the babe whose dimples I used to fan, I long, with a spirit so pure, to go Of welcome that bursts from the angel throng, As it enters its rest; but alas! alas! I hasten away over mountain and flood, The soldier is there, but he breathes no more; The end of his scarf on his marble face; And find not even a sigh, to take To her, whose heart is so soon to break! I fly to the flowers I loved so much; They are pale, and drop at my slightest touch. It frowns!-and what can I do, but die? MISS H. F. GOULD. LESSON LXXXVI. DESCRIPTION OF PRAIRIES. THE attraction of the prairie consists in its extent, its carpet of verdure and flowers, its undulating surface, its groves, and the fringe of timber by which it is surrounded. Of all these, the latter is the most expressive feature. It is that which gives character to the landscape, which imparts the shape, and marks the boundary of the plain. If the prairie be small, its greatest beauty consists in the vicinity of the surrounding margin of woodland, which resembles the shore of a lake, indented with deep vistas, like bays and inlets, and throwing out long points, like capes and headlands; while occasionally these points approach each other so close, that the traveler. passes through a narrow avenue or strait, where the shadows of the woodland fall upon his path, and then again emerges into another prairie. Where the plain is large, the forest outline is seen in the far perspective, like the dim shore when beheld at a distance from the ocean. The eye sometimes roams over the green meadow, without discovering a tree, a shrub, or any object in the immense expanse, but the wilderness of grass and flowers; while at another time, the prospect is enlivened by the groves, which are seen interspersed like islands, or the solitary tree, which stands alone in the blooming desert. If it is in the spring of the year, and the young grass has just covered the ground with a carpet of delicate green, and especially if the sun is rising from behind a distant swell of the plain, and glittering upon the dew-drops, no scene can be more lovely to the eye. The deer is seen grazing quietly upon the plain; the bee is on the wing; the wolf, with his tail drooped, is sneaking away to his covert with the felon tread of one who is conscious that he has disturbed the peace of nature; and the grouse feeding in flocks, or in pairs, like the domestic fowl, cover the whole surface. When the eye roves off from the green plain, to the groves, or points of timber, these also are found to be at this season robed in the most attractive hues. The rich undergrowth is in full bloom. The red-bud, the dog-wood, the crab-apple, the wild plum, the cherry, the wild rose, are abundant in all the rich lands; and the grape vine, though its blossom is unseen, fills the air with fragrance. The variety of the wild fruit, and flowering shrubs, is so great, and such the profusion of the blossoms with which they are bowed down, that the eye is regaled almost to satiety. The gayety of the prairie, its embellishments, and the absence of the gloom and savage wildness of the forest, all contribute to dispel the feeling of lonesomeness, which usually creeps over the mind of the solitary traveler in the wilderness. Though he may not see a house, nor a human being, and is conscious that he is far from the habitations of men, he can scarcely divest himself of the idea that he is traveling through scenes embellished by the hand of art. The flowers, so fragile, so delicate, and so ornamental, seem to have been tastefully disposed to adorn the scene. The groves and clumps of trees appear to have been scattered over the lawn to beautify the landscape, and it is not easy to avoid that illusion of the fancy, which persuades the beholder, that such scenery has been created to gratify the refined taste of civilized man. Europeans are often reminded of the resemblance of this scenery to that of the extensive parks which they have been accustomed to admire, in the old world. The lawn, the avenue, grove, the copse, which are there produced by art, are here the |