thought," continued Edward, "that we should have nothing to do in the country but get our lessons; and all work and no play, you know, mother, makes Jack a dull boy." "Oh yes, Ned, I know that favourite proverb of all children. I am sorry to find that you have such a dread of the country. You know, my dear children, that your father and I are devoted to your welfare, and that we should do nothing that would not contribute to your happiness." Edward had quick feelings, and he perceived that there was something reproachful in his mother's manner. “I am sure," he said, "that Julia and I wish to do every thing that you and papa like." "That is not enough, my dear boy, we wish you to like to do what we like." “But surely, mother, you cannot blame us for not wishing to go and live in the country." "No, Edward, I should as soon think of blaming poor blind Billy, because he cannot see. Unhappily, you have been entirely confined in town, and are ignorant of the pleasures of the country. I only blame you for thinking, that your father and I would voluntarily do any thing, to lessen your innocent pleasures.' “Oh, mother!” exclaimed Edward, "we did not think any thing about that." 66 Well, my dear, perhaps I am wrong in expecting you to think-reflection is the habit of a riper age than yours. You must trust me for one year, and at the expiration of that period, you and your sister shall decide whether we return to town, or remain in the country." 66 Oh, mother, how very good you are. One year-well, one year won't be so very long-only think, Julia, in one year we shall be back again." "Not quite so fast, Edward," said his mother, " not to decide till the end of the year." 66 you are 'Oh, I know that mamma, but, of course, we shall decide to come back." Mrs. Sackville looked incredulous, and smiled at his childish confidence in his own constancy. "I see, mother, you don't believe me; but of course, Julia and I can't wish to live away from every thing that is amusing." 66 Come, Julia, your brother has taken it upon himself to be spokesman, but let me hear from you, what are the amusements that you so dread to leave." "Why, in the first place, mother, there is our dancing school; every time I go to take my lesson, Mr. Dubois says, Poor Miss Julie, no cotillon; no gavot in de country; ah, what a savage place! de country!' " "Dubois forever!" exclaimed Edward, as Julia finished her mimickry of her master's tone and grimace. "Oh, he is the drollest creature-and Julia is such a mimick-the girls will have nobody to make them laugh, when she is gone." Mrs. Sackville secretly rejoiced that Julia was to be removed, in a great degree, from the temptation to exercise so mischievous a faculty. She, however, did not turn the drift of the conversation to make any remarks on it. "Console Mr. Dubois," she said, "my dear, Julia, with the assurance, that your mother will take care that you do not lose the benefit of his labours in the service of the graces. Your father tells me, there is in our neighbourhood, a very decent musician, who does all the fiddling for the parish. I have purchased some cotillion musick, and I hope your favourite tunes will soon resound in our new mansion." "Oh, that will be delightful, mother, but Edward and I cannot dance a cotillion alone." "No, but we are not going to a desert. There are enough clever children in the neighbourhood, who will form a set with you; and now, Julia, that I see, by your brightened eye, that you think the affliction of leaving the dancing school will be alleviated, what is the next subject of your regret ?" "The next, mother? what is next, Edward ?" "I do not know what you call next, Julia, but I think the theatre comes next." "O! the theatre-yes, the theatre-how could I forget the theatre ?" "Well, my children, I think you can live without the theatre, as you go but once, or at most, twice in a season; a pleasure that occupies so small a portion of your time, cannot be very important to your happiness, or regretted very deeply." "A small portion of time, to be sure, mother," replied Edward; "but then you will own it is delightful; you yourself exclaimed the other night, when the curtain drew up, 'what a beautiful spectacle!' "Yes, my love, but nature has far more beautiful spectacles, and I have kept you too long from them." "But, mother," insisted Edward, "nothing can be so pleasant and startling, as when the curtain suddenly draws up, and discovers a beautiful scene.' "It may be more startling, my dear Ned, but it is not half so delightful as to see the curtain of night withdrawn in a clear summer morning, and the lovely objects of nature, lighting up with the rays of the rising sun." "But, mother, there is the orchestra-" "And in the country, my dear, we have bands of voluntary musicians on every side of us, who set all their wants and all their pleasures to musick, and pour them forth in the sweetest notes, from morning till night. These musicians will hover about our house and garden the entire summer, and ask no reward, but to share with us our cherries and raspberries; a small pittance from the generous stores of summer. But, come, my children, what next?" "What next, Julia? Let us think-Oh, there is the museum, I am sure mother you cannot say a word against the museum-such a variety of curiosities, and elegant specimens of every thing, and I have heard you and papa both say, that it is a very instructive, as well as amusing place to visit." 66 Certainly it is, my dear, a vast collection of natural wonders, and artificial curiosities; and I am glad you value it sufficiently to regret it. But, my dear children, nature has her museums every where; her productions are all curiosities, and the more you study them, the more you will admire the wisdom and goodness of their Creator. Every vegetable, that springs from the kind bosom of the earth-the earth itself the rocks the pebbles-living creatures, their instincts and habitudes-are all a study for you. The volume is open and out-spread before you; God grant me grace to train your minds and hearts, that you may read therein― read with that enlightened understanding and benevolent spirit, which prompted a christian philosopher to say, 'the air, the earth, the water, teem with delighted existence. On whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my view.'" Any further record of the conversation would be superfluous, and might prove tedious. It is our purpose, to give some anecdotes of Edward and Julia, and not their history. As might have been expected, our young friends in the country, were like beings rescued from an artificial mode of existence, and restored to their native element; and when their mother, at the expiration of the year, asked them if they were ready to return to town "Return to town, now, mother!" exclaimed Edward, "it is impossible.' "Some time, or other, mamma, perhaps we should like to go back, not now," said Julia. "We cannot go now, when we have so much to do. The frost is just out of the ground, and Ned and I are as busy as bees in our garden." "I think old Cæsar might take charge of your bantams, Ned," said Julia; "but I am sure my pet lamb-" "Oh, Julia," interrupted Edward, laughing, "give her the sentimental French name." "Very well, I will, and you may laugh as much as you please; Orpheline-I am sure Orpheline would not relish her food from any hand but mine, she is so used to me; and my darling little partridges, that I am trying to bring up to be domestick birds, I would not leave them before I have made asatisfactory experiment,' as papa says; and then, mother, we did not half fill our herbariums last summer. Oh, we have a world of business on our hands," continued Julia, with the air of one, who duly realised the importance of her momentous concerns. Mrs. Sackville smiled, but made no reply, and Edward said, "I was thinking, mother, as I sat on the door step last evening, and listened to the hum of the happy little creatures, that are waking up for the season, that I had new eyes and new ears given to me, since I came to liye in the country. Even the hoarse croaking of the frogs in our meadow, sounded pleasantly to me; quite musical." "Equal to the musick of the orchestra, my dear Ned.” "Not quite so fine, mother," replied Edward, "but it seemed to have more meaning in it." "You are right, my dear Edward," said Mrs. Sackville, "you have new senses, or rather, your senses are unlocked to the reception of the sweet influences of nature. I have more happiness than I can express to you, my dear children, in finding that you have already imbibed a taste for those pure pleasures, that will remain the same whatever change of condition or circumstances may await you." LESSON XXII. EVENING. Description of Narragansett Bay and the surrounding Scenery.-EASTBURN. 1 THE sun is sinking from the sky When floating on the breeze of even, Broad Narragansett's bosom blue, 1 |