5.  And then I think of one, who in
     Her youthful beauty died,
   The fair, meek blossom that grew up
     And faded by my side. 
   In the cold, moist earth we laid her,
     When the forest cast the leaf,
   And we wept that one so lovely
     Should have a life so brief;
   Yet not unmeet it was that one,
     Like that young friend of ours,
   So gentle and so beautiful,
     Should perish with the flowers.

Definitions.—­1.  Wail’ing, lamenting, mourning.  Sear, dry, withered. 3.  Glade, an open place in the forest.  Glen, a valley, a dale. 4.  Un-meet’, improper, unfitting.

XXXV.  THE THUNDERSTORM.

Washington Irving (b. 1783, d. 1859).  This distinguished author, whose works have enriched American literature, was born in the city of New York.  He had an ordinary school education, and began his literary career at the age of nineteen, by writing for a paper published by his brother.  His first book, “Salmagundi,” was published in 1807.  Two years later he published “Knickerbocker’s History of New York.”  In 1815 he sailed for Europe, and remained abroad seventeen years, during which time he wrote several of his works.  From 1842 to 1846 he was minister to Spain.  The last years of his life were passed at “Sunnyside,” near Tarrytown, N.Y.  He was never married.  “The Life of Washington,” his last work, was completed in the same year in which he died.  Mr. Irving’s works are characterized by humor, chaste sentiment, and elegance and correctness of expression.  The following selection is from “Dolph” in “Bracehridge Hall.”

1.  In the second day of the voyage, they came to the Highlands.  It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day, that they floated gently with the tide between these stern mountains.  There was that perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor of summer heat.  The turning of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar, on deck, was echoed from the mountain side and reverberated along the shores; and, if by chance the captain gave a shout of command, there were airy tongues that mocked it from every cliff.

2.  Dolph gazed about him, in mute delight and wonder, at these scenes of nature’s magnificence.  To the left, the Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over height, forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky.  To the right, strutted forth the bold promontory of Antony’s Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it; while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until they seemed to lock their arms together and confine this mighty rive in their embraces.

3.  In the midst of this admiration, Dolph remarked a pile of bright, snowy clouds peering above the western heights.  It was succeeded by another, and another, each seemingly pushing onward its predecessor, and towering, with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep blue atmosphere; and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard rolling behind the mountains.  The river, hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the wind came creeping up it.  The fishhawks wheeled and screamed, and sought their nests on the high, dry trees; the crows flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks; and all nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder gust.