uggle with the waves.

14. The game was lost. Nothing was left the freebooter but retreat.
Reluctantly turning his back on his enemies, now in full cry close behind
him, Schenk sprang into the last remaining boat just pushing from the
quay. Already overladen, it foundered with his additional weight, and
Martin Schenk, encumbered with his heavy armor, sank at once to the bottom
of the Waal.

15. Some of the fugitives succeeded in swimming down the stream, and were
picked up by their comrades in the barges below the town, and so made
their escape. Many were drowned with their captain. A few days afterward,
the inhabitants of Nymwegen fished up the body of the famous partisan. He
was easily recognized by his armor, and by his truculent face, still
wearing the scowl with which he had last rebuked his followers.

DEFINITIONS.--2. Mo'ri-on, a kind of helmet. Free'boot-er, one who
plunders. Mus-ket-eer', a soldier armed with a musket. Quar'ter, mercy. 6.
Burgh'ers, inhabitants of a town. Gar'ri-son, troops stationed in a fort
or town. 9. Flo-til'la, a fleet of small vessels. 11. Ma-raud'ers,
plunderers. Quay (pro. ke), a wharf 14. Foun'dered, sank. En-cum'bered,
weighed down. 15. Par'ti-san, a commander of a body of roving troops.
Tru'cu-lent, fierce.

LXXXIV. THE SEASONS. (237)

1. SPRING.

H. G. Adams, an English writer, has compiled two volumes of poetical
quotations, and is the author of several volumes of original poems. The
following is from the "Story of the Seasons."

A bursting into greenness;
A waking as from sleep;
A twitter and a warble
That make the pulses leap:
A watching, as in childhood,
For the flowers that, one by one,
Open their golden petals
To woo the fitful sun.
A gust, a flash, a gurgle,
A wish to shout and sing,
As, filled with hope and gladness,
We hail the vernal Spring.

II. SUMMER.

Now is the high tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay.
We may shut our eyes, but we can not help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back
For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon