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FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS

WHEN the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,

To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

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And, like phantoms grim and tall,

Shadows from the fitful fire light

Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;

The beloved, the true-hearted,

Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,

By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,

Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly,

Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep

Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me,

Lays her gentle hand in mine.

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And she sits and gazes at me

With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saintlike,
Looking downward from the skies.
Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!

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THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS

THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

And, with his sickle keen,

And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he;

"Have naught but the bearded grain?

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,

I will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,

He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise

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He bound them in his sheaves.

My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"

The Reaper said, and smiled;

"Dear tokens of the earth are they,

Where He was once a child.

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"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,

And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;

She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.

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CHAPTER VIII

WASHINGTON IRVING, 1783-1859

"If he wishes to study a style which possesses the characteristic beauties of Addison's, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, point, and spirit, let him give his days and nights to the volumes of Irving." - EDWARD EVERETT'S Advice to a Student.

WASHINGTON IRVING, one of the earliest and most popular of American authors, and of whom Thackeray happily spoke as "the first ambassador whom the New World of letters sent to the Old," was born in New York City in 1783. He received only a common-school education, leaving the schoolroom at sixteen, yet for many years afterward pursued a systematic course of reading of the standard authors, especially Chaucer, Spenser, and Bunyan. In his boyhood days he seemed to have a natural talent for writing essays and stories. As he always detested mathematics, he often wrote compositions for his schoolmates, and they in turn worked out his problems for him. He studied law for a time, but, not being inclined to submit to the drudgery of a profession, preferred to employ himself in rambling excursions around Manhattan Island, by which he became familiar with the beautiful scenery which he afterward made famous by his pen. Thus he acquired that minute knowledge of various historical locations, curious traditions and legends, so beauti

fully made use of in his "Sketch Book" and "History of New York."

In 1804, being threatened with pulmonary disease, he sailed for Europe, and remained abroad for nearly two years. On his return, he undertook to resume his legal practice, but without success. In company with others, he began the publication of a serial called "Salmagundi." It was well conducted, and

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WASHINGTON IRVING

included in "The Sketch Book." In 1814 he served as an aid to Governor Tompkins, and at the end of the war again went to Europe, where he continued to live for the next seventeen years. By the failure of his brother he lost all his property; and having been thus thrown upon his own resources, he devoted himself to literature to earn a living. His "Sketch Book" was published in 1819. By the personal influence of Sir Walter Scott it was republished in London, and at once established Irving's reputation as a great author.

His next works were "Bracebridge Hall," published in 1822, and "Tales of a Traveler" in 1824. Having been

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