above, shall find danger and difficulty
give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose: commit thyself to the
care of Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew
thy journey and thy life."

DEFINITIONS.--1. Car-a-van sa-ry, a kind of inn in the East, where
caravans (or large companies of traders) rest at night. 5. Me-an'ders,
windings, turnings. 6. Cir-cum-vo-lu'tions, windings or flowings around.
7. De-vi-a'tions, wanderins from one's course. 9. Ex-pi-ra'tion, death.
11. Pal-li-a'tion, concealment of the most blamable circumstances of an
offence. 12. Mit-i-ga'tion, abatement, the act of rendering less severe.
14. Ad'e-quate, fully sufficient. Lab'y-rinth, a place full of winding
passages.

CXIV. A SUMMER LONGING.

George Arnold (b. 1834, d. 1865) was born in New York, but removed with
his parents to Illinois while yet an infant. There he passed his boyhood,
being educated at home by his parents. In 1849 the family again removed to
Strawberry Farms, Monmouth County, N.J. When eighteen years old he began
to study painting, but soon gave up the art and devoted himself to
literature. He became a journalist of New York City, and his productions
include almost every variety of writings found in the literary magazines.
After his death, two volumes of his poems, "Drift: a Seashore Idyl," and
"Poems, Grave and Gay," were edited by Mr. William Winter.

1. I must away to the wooded hills and vales,
Where broad, slow streams flow cool and silently
And idle barges flap their listless sails.
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.

2. I long for shadowy founts, where the birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree;
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds;
And Nature's voices say in mystic words,
"The green fields wait for thee."

3. I dream of uplands, where the primrose shines
And waves her yellow lamps above the lea;
Of tangled copses, swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines,
Where green fields wait for me.

4. I think of long, sweet afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea,
Or hear the breezes in the reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices chirping shrill and dry,
In fields that wait for me.

5. These dreams of summer come to bid me find
The forest's shade, the wild bird's melody,
While summer's rosy wreaths for me are twined,
Whil