bosom were dismayed at my desolation. They have flown away with their songs. 3. "I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe with his smile. The zephyrs3 breathed softly through its glossy folds; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far on the gentle air; my head was lifted high; my forehead was fair to the heavens. But now how changed! Sadness is upon me; my head is shorn, my arms are stripped; I can not now throw a shadow on the ground. Beauty has departed; gladness is gone out of my bosom; the blood has retired from my heart-it has sunk into the earth. 4. "I am thirsty, I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. The winter is coming; I am destitute. Sorrow is my portion. Mourning must wear me away. How shall I account to the angel who clothed me for the loss of his beautiful gift?” 5. The angel had been listening. In soothing accents he answered the lamentation. "My beloved tree," said he, “be comforted. I am with thee still, though every leaf has forsaken thee. The voice of gladness is hushed among thy boughs, but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow is but for a season. Trust in me; keep my promise in thy heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I leave with thee abide and cheer thee through the coming winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew. 6. "The storm will drive over thee; the snow will sift through thy naked limbs. But these will be light and passing afflictions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless arms, but it shall soon dissolve into tears. It shall pass into the ground, and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branches it has oppressed, and help me to adorn them; for I shall be here to use it. 7. "Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The frost would chill and destroy it. It has gone into thy mother's bosom for her to keep it warm. spring. She is a careful parent. Earth will not rob her off- her children, and forgets not to provide for the least of them. 8. "The sap, that has for a while gone down, will make thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then return to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strengthened. Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in my promise, I will fulfill it. Buds shall shoot forth on every side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I will paint it and fit it in every part. It shall be a comely raiment. Thou shalt forget thy present sorrow. Sadness shall be swallowed up in joy. Now, my beloved tree, fare thee well for a season." 9. The angel was gone. The muttering winter drew near. The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm came and howled around the tree. But the word of the angel was hidden in her heart; it soothed her amid the threatenings of the tempest. The ice-cakes rattled upon her limbs; they loaded and weighed them down. 10. "My slender branches," said she, "let not this burden overcome you. Break not beneath this heavy affliction; break not, but bend, till you can spring back to your places. Let not a twig of you be lost. Hope must prop you for a while, and the angel will reward your patience. You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall again be in your motion, and beauty hanging around you." 11. The scowling face of winter began to lose its features. The raging storm grew faint, and breathed its last. The restless clouds fretted themselves to atoms; they scattered upon the sky and were brushed away. The sun threw down a bundle of golden arrows. They fell upon the tree; the icecakes glittered as they came. Every one was shattered by a shaft. They were melted and gone. Her blessed ministers 12. The reign of spring had come. were abroad in the earth; they hovered in the air; they blended their beautiful tints, and cast a new-created glory on the face of the heavens. 13. The tree was rewarded for her trust. The angel was true to the object of his love. He returned; he bestowed on her another robe. It was bright, glossy, and unsullied.5 The dust of summer had never lit upon it; the scorching heat had not faded it; the moth had not profaned it. 14. The tree stood again in loveliness; she was dressed in more than her former beauty; she was very fair; joy smiled around her on every side. The birds flew back to her bosom. They sang on every branch a hymn to the angel of the leaves. 15. MISS H. F. GOULD. Now each tree, by summer crown'd,7 There the dew its couch hath made- Where the boughs, with dewy gloom, Come away! Where the lily's tender gleam 1 VEST'-URE, garment; robe. 2 COME-LY (kum'-ly), suitable; beautiful. 14A-BIDE', remain with thee. HEMANS. 5 UN-SUL'-LIED, not sullied; not stained. 3 ZEPH'-YR (zef'-er), the west wind; any 6 Pro-FAN'ED, polluted; defiled. soft, mild breeze. 7 CROWN'D, adorned with leaves. That fell ever fast and faster, Then faltered to silence again." J. RUSSELL LOWELL. Ballad of the Singing Leaves. 4. There are no objects in nature more familiar to us than the leaves of trees; there are none upon which most persons look with greater interest and delight, and none around which cluster a greater variety of pleasing associations.3 In the different stages of their growth and decay they are often referred to as emblems of the life of man; their freshness in spring aptly denoting the season of youth and hope, and their autumnal hues admonishing of the approaching winter of old age, when, life's pleasures and enjoyments being over, man is often forced to say, "I have lived long enough; my way of life Is fall'n into the seres and yellow leaf." 5. The writings of all ages abound in poetical imagery drawn from the vegetable world; and where vegetation is the most abundant, it has exerted the greatest influence upon the literature of the people. "In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garden their loves and cares; On its leaves a mystic language bears."—PERCIVAL. 6. The "flowers of spring," the "green fields," the "ripened fruit," the "decaying herbage," whether they teem with cheering or with saddening associations, are things that memory ever loves to dwell upon. How natural was it that the poet, in describing Falstaff's dying moments, should paint even the hoary profligate,9 in his spirit wanderings, as "babbling of green fields." And how touchingly does Cardinal Wolsey, from the similitude1o of a plant, portray the vicissi tudes11 of human life: 7. ; "This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth 8. The sacred writers draw some of their most beautiful imagery from the same sources. What more appropriate pictures of the brevity12 of human life can be given than these: "We all do fade as a leaf." "We are like 66 grass which groweth up; in the morning it flourisheth; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.' The righteous are declared to be "like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season," and "whose leaf also shall not |