From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
  Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
  To revel in the roses.
Tamerlane, Act i. Sc. 1.  N. ROWE.

  While mantling on the maiden’s cheek,
  Young roses kindled into thought.
Evenings in Greece:  Evening II.  Song.  T. MOORE.

  The rising blushes, which her cheek o’erspread,
  Are opening roses in the lily’s bed.
Dione, Act ii. Sc. 3.  J. GAY.

  Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
  Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. 
  The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow;
  They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats,
  And flare up bodily, wings and all.
Aurora Leigh.  E.B.  BROWNING.

The man that blushes is not quite a brute. Night Thoughts, Night VII.  DR. E. YOUNG.

BOATING.

  Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
  Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
  Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
  We’ll sing at Saint Ann’s our parting hymn;
  Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
  The rapids are near and the daylight’s past!
A Canadian Boat Song.  T. MOORE.

  And all the way, to guide their chime,
  With falling oars they kept the time.
Bermudas.  A. MARVELL.

  Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat,
    Just parted from the shore,
  And to the fisher’s chorus-note,
    Soft moves the dipping oar!
Oh, Swiftly glides the Bonnie Boat.  J. BAILLIE.

  Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
  Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Essay on Man, Epistle III.  A. POPE.

  On the great streams the ships may go
  About men’s business to and fro. 
  But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep
  On crystal waters ankle-deep: 
  I, whose diminutive design,
  Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine,
  Is fashioned on so frail a mould,
  A hand may launch, a hand withhold: 
  I, rather, with the leaping trout
  Wind, among lilies, in and out;
  I, the unnamed, inviolate. 
  Green, rustic rivers navigate.
The Canoe Speaks.  R.L.  STEVENSON.

  Row us forth!  Unfurl thy sail! 
    What care we for tempest blowing? 
  Let us kiss the blustering gale! 
    Let us breast the waters flowing! 
  Though the North rush cold and loud,
    Love shall warm and make us merry;
  Though the waves all weave a shroud,
    We will dare the Humber ferry!
The Humber Ferry.  B.W.  PROCTER (Barry Cornwall).

BOOKS.

  Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
  Are a substantial world, both pure and good;
  Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
  Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Personal Talk.  W. WORDSWORTH.