d resort for their literary and
artistic friends. Miss Cary was the author of eleven volumes, besides many
articles contributed to periodicals. Her poetry is marked with great
sweetness and pathos. Some of her prose works are much admired, especially
her "Clovernook Children."
###

Among the beautiful pictures
That hang on Memory's wall,
Is one of a dim old forest,
That seemeth best of all;
Not for its gnarled oaks olden,
Dark with the mistletoe;
Not for the violets golden,
That sprinkle the vale below;
Not for the milk-white lilies,
That lean from the fragrant hedge,
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams,
And stealing their golden edge;
Not for the vines on the upland,
Where the bright red berries rest,
Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip,
It seemeth to me the best.

I once had a little brother,
With eyes that were dark and deep;
In the lap of that dim old forest,
He lieth in peace asleep:
Light as the down of the thistle,
Free as the winds that blow,
We roved there the beautiful summers,
The summers of long ago;
But his feet on the hills grew weary,
And, one of the autumn eves,
I made for my little brother,
A bed of the yellow leaves.

Sweetly his pale arms folded
My neck in a meek embrace,
As the light of immortal beauty
Silently covered his face;
And when the arrows of sunset
Lodged in the tree tops bright,
He fell, in his saintlike beauty,
Asleep by the gates of light.
Therefore, of all the pictures
That hang on Memory's wall,
The one of the dim old forest
Seemeth the best of all.

XI. THE MORNING ORATORIO. (90)

Wilson Flagg, 1806-1884, was born in Beverly, Mass. He pursued his
academical course in Andover, at Phillips Academy, and entered Harvard
College, but did not graduate. His chief Works are: "Studies in the Field
and Forest," "The Woods and Byways of New England," and "The Birds and
Seasons of New England."
###

Nature, for the delight of waking eyes, has arrayed the morning heavens in
the loveliest hues of beauty. Fearing to dazzle by an excess of delight,
she first announces day by a faint and glimmering twilight, then sheds a
purple tint over the brows of the rising morn, and infuses a transparent
ruddiness throughout the atmosphere. As daylight widens, successive groups
of mottled and rosy-bosomed clouds assemble on the gilded sphere, and,
crowned with wreaths of fickle rainbows, spread a mirrored flush over
hill, grove,