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Boone's frame was vigorous and athletic, but in strength and stature he was not beyond the average standard of man. There was nothing rough, still less fierce, in his manners; but he was rather remarkable for the gentleness and quietness of his bearing. He was a man of few words, but was always willing to answer the questions which curious visitors put to him. His moral character was spotless. His affections were strong, and he tenderly loved those who were near to him: to his dying day, he never could speak of the son who was killed at the Blue Licks without tears. His nature was simple and truthful; and though the incidents of his life have been, by some writers, embellished by many romantic fictions, he himself never afforded any materials for it.
LI. — SELECT PASSAGES IN VERSE.
CHILDREN PLAYING WITH A Ram. — Byron.
His brow, as if in act to butt, and then
Their classical profiles, and glittering dresses,
So that the philosophical beholder
Unheeded flew the hours.
That only treads on flowers !
eye with clear account remarks
That dazzle as they pass ?
O, who to sober measurement
Time's happy fleetness brings,
Their plumage to his wings?
AN OLD MAN'S DEATH. - Dryden.
· Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long; E’en wondered at because he dropped no sooner. Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years, Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more; Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
CAIN'S LOVE FOR ADAH. — Byron.
All the stars of heaven ; The deep-blue noon of night, lit by an orb Which looks a spirit, or a spirit's world ; The hues of twilight; the sun's gurgeous coming; His setting indescribable, which fills My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him
Along that western paradise of clouds ;
A SLEEPING INFANT. — Byron.
Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,
PASTORAL MUSIC. — Byron.
Hark! the note, The natural music of the mountain reed For here the patriarchal days are not A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd: My soul would drink those echoes. O that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony, A bodiless enjoyment, born and dying With the blest tone which made me.
THE MINISTRATIONS OF NATURE. —Coleridge.
SORROW. --Henry Taylor.
ENIGMA. — Miss Fanshawe.
'Twas whispered in heaven and muttered in hell, And echo caught softly the sound as it fell; On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed ; 'Twas seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder ; 'Twill be found in the spheres, when riven asunder ; 'Twas given to man with his earliest breath, Assists at his birth, and attends him in death ; Presides o'er his happiness, honor, and health, Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth.
It begins every hope, every wish it must bound,
LI. — THE PRAIRIES.
THE scenery of the prairie country is striking, and never fails to cause an exclamation of surprise. The extent of the prospect is exhilarating; the outline of the country sloping and graceful. The verdure of the flowers is beautiful; and the absence of shade, and consequent appearance of profusion of light, produces a gayety which animates the beholder.
It is necessary to explain that these plains, although preserving a general level with respect to the whole country, are yet in themselves not flat, but exhibit a gracefully waving surface, swelling and sinking with an easy slope, and a full, rounded outline, equally avoiding the unmeaning horizontal surface, and the interruption of abrupt or angular elevations. It is that surface which, in the expressive language of the country, is called rolling, and which has been said to resemble the long, heavy swell of the ocean, when its waves are sub. siding to rest, after the agitation of a storm.
* The answer to this beautiful enigma is the letter H.