g deprived of each other's society. The marriage
of the children was celebrated with much rejoicing, and the
Jasper and the Pearl were no longer obliged to hold intercourse
by means of a reflection on the water. The wall was removed, and
the wavelets rippled placidly between the two pavilions on the
lake.

--_H.S. Conant._

[Illustration: IN THE MOUNTAINS.]

_IN THE MOUNTAINS._

A line of Walter Savage Landor's, a poet for poets, was an
especial favorite with Southey, and, we believe, with Lamb.
It occurs in "Gebir," and drops from the lips of one of its
characters, who, being suddenly shown the sea, exclaims,

"Is this the mighty ocean?--is this all?"

The feeling which underlies this line is generally the first
emotion we have when brought face to face with the stupendous
forms of Nature. It is the feeling inspired by mountains, the
first sight of which is disappointing. They are grand, but not
quite what we were led to expect from pictures and books, and,
still more, from our own imaginations. The more we see mountains,
the more they grow upon us, until, finally, they are clothed
with a grandeur not, in all cases, belonging to them--our Mount
Washingtons over-topping the Alps, and the Alps the Himmalayas.
The poets assist us in thus magnifying them.

The American poets have translated the mountains of their native
land into excellent verse. Everybody remembers Mr. Bryant's
"Monument Mountain," for its touching story, and its
clearly-defined descriptions of scenery.

Mr. Stedman has a mountain of his own, though perhaps only in
Dream-land; and Mr. Bayard Taylor has a whole range of them, the
sight of which once filled him with rapture:

"O deep, exulting freedom of the hills!
O summits vast, that to the climbing view
In naked glory stand against the blue!
O cold and buoyant air, whose crystal fills
Heaven's amethystine gaol! O speeding streams
That foam and thunder from the cliffs below!
O slippery brinks and solitudes of snow
And granite bleakness, where the vulture screams!
O stormy pines, that wrestle with the breath
Of every tempest, sharp and icy horns
And hoary glaciers, sparkling in the morns,
And broad dim wonders of the world beneath!
I summon ye, and mid the glare that fills
The noisy mart, my spirit walks the hills."

* * * * *

GLADNESS OF NATURE.--Midnight