he waves, the twinkling fire-fly arose from the surrounding
verdure, and illumined the meadow below with a thousand transient gems."
The rustling breezes played among the trees of the wood, while the air
was filled with the fragrance of various flowers, and the sound of
melodious music was wafted from the neighbouring village, rendered
apparently more soft and sweet by the distance.

[_NY Weekly_: On Landscape Painting:

how extatic is the twilight hour, which, for a time, hangs
balanced between the dispersion of darkness, and the dapplings of
the east; and which gives a solemn pleasure to every thing around!]

[_A&M_:

Evening had now spread her dusky mantle over the face of nature.
The stars glistened in the sky. The breeze's rustling wing was in
the tree. The "stilly sound" of the low murmuring brook, and the far
off water fall, were faintly heard. The twinkling fire fly arose
from the surrounding verdure and illuminated the air with a thousand
transient gleams. The mingling discordance of curs and watch-dogs
echoed in the distant village, from whence the frequent lights
darted their pale lustre through the gloom.]

[_A&M_ (different passage):

The moon shone in full lustre, her white beams trembling upon the
glassy main, where skiffs and sails of various description were
passing and repassing. The shores of Long-Island and the other
islands in the harbour, appeared dimly to float among the waves. The
air was adorned with the fragrance of surrounding flowers; the sound
of instrumental music wafted from the town, rendered sweeter by
distance....]

The buildings on the estate consisted of a large mansion-house,
farm-house, and an ancient stone cottage that stood on the margin of the
water, shaded by willow trees, and surrounded by romantic scenery.

The charming appearance which nature threw around the place on which the
mansion-house was situated, was scarcely less interesting in winter than
in the more gay and verdant months of the summer season. The falling of
the snow and hail, and the sparkling icicles hanging upon the woods and
shrubbery, sometimes almost conveyed the idea of enchantment to the
imagination of the spectator.

[Mrs. Sherwood: _The Broken Hyacinth_:

The charming country in which our house was situated, was scarcely
less lovely when covered with snow than in the summer. The purity of
the snow, and the sparkling icicles which hung