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where I sleep?" for Henry, being six years old now, slept in the closet I spoke of within his uncle's room, "and there learn my grammar?"

Mr. Dalben gave his consent, and Henry ran up stairs, shut the door, and sitting down on a little stool opposite the window, set himself to learn his lesson. It was the summer-time, as I before said, and the window was open; but there was nothing to be seen where Henry sat, through the window, but the tops of the tallest shrubs, the summits of the grove behind these, and the heights of Malvern beyond, but at such a distance, that the little gardens and cottages, half-way up the hill, only looked like dark specks upon the blue mountain. Henry set himself very earnestly to his lessons, and went on without interruption, till a blue pigeon from his uncle's pigeon-house over the stable (for Mr. Dalben had built a pigeon-house about half a year before) came flying towards the window, and setting herself on the windowsill, for she was very tame, began to coo and dress her feathers, turning about her glossy neck in a very dainty and capricious manner. Henry's voice ceased; his eye wandered from his book, and fixed itself upon the pigeon; till at length, recollecting himself, he cried out, "Get away, Mrs. Pigeon; I will learn my lesson, and you shall not hinder me." At the sound of his voice the bird took flight, and Henry went on with his lesson very successfully, till suddenly a beautiful yellow butterfly, whose wings were enriched with spots of azure, appeared in the open window, first settling himself upon the window-frame, then upon some of the furniture within, and then upon the ceiling. Henry's eye again left his book, and followed the butterfly through all its irregular motions, till the creature, returning through the window, and flying towards the shrubs, was presently too far off to be seen. "I am glad you are gone," said Henry, returning to his lesson," and I hope you will come no more. Henry should have said, "I hope I shall have sense, if you should happen to come again, not to think any more about you." But Henry was a silly idle little boy, and had not yet learned the necessity of commanding his attention to what he ought to be doing. Poor Henry was very unfortunate that day; for, no sooner was the yellow butterfly out of sight than in came a humble-bee-Buzz, buzz, buzz; and this last gentleman was so impertinent, that he came flying up to

Henry and round his head; buzzing in one ear, then in another, then out at the window, then in again, then again at the little boy's ears, then away again. At length, Henry got so vexed with him, that he took his opportunity, jumped up, and shut the window against him; and, more than that, he turned his stool round, and set himself with his back to the window: "There, gentleman and ladies," said he, "Mrs. Pigeon, and Mrs. Butterfly, and Mr. Humble-bee, if you come again, you will not find me at home; or, if I am at home, not ready to receive you."

While Henry was saying these words, and while he was looking for his place in his grammar, which had fallen to the floor in his haste to shut the window, he heard a little kind of nibbling rattling noise in the old wainscot. "What now?" said the little boy;" who is coming next?" He turned towards the side whence the noise came, and there was a pretty little brown mouse, with sparkling black eyes, peeping through a hole in the old wainscot.

"There now," said Henry, "there is a new visiter come; well, I am glad Muff is not here, at any rate: get back, Mrs. Mouse, get back to your hiding-place; but I will not look at you, I will learn, I am determined to learn." So he turned his face again to another corner of the room, and had just settled himself to learn with all his might and main, when a monstrous large spider let himself down from the ceiling right above his head, and dropped upon his book; Henry shook him off without hurting him, saying, "I will tell you what, ladies and gentlemen; I won't care for any of you, that will be the best way, that is, I will try not to care for you. I hope I shall be helped to do right; and then, Mrs. Pigeon, you may coo; and Mrs. Butterfly, you may flutter; and Mr. Humble-bee, you may buzz; and Mrs. Mouse, you may nibble; and Mr. Spider, you may spin; but still I shall be able to learn my lesson." So little Henry, being filled with a desire to do well, no doubt from above, kept looking at his book, and repeating the words with all his might, till he was able to say his lesson quite perfectly; and then he went joyfully down to his uncle, and when he had said his lesson, he gave an account of all his visiters to his kind old friend.

In reply to little Henry's story, Mr. Dalben made this remark:

"My dear boy, whenever we have any duty to perform,

whether a duty of little or much importance, we shall assuredly meet with difficulties; difficulties from our own hearts within, and difficulties from the world without. Now these difficulties, whether they be great or small, are such as no man can vanquish in his proper strength; and therefore we see persons, who are not religious, so changeable and variable in their conduct, and so light and inconsistent in all they do; but those who are supported by the help of God are enabled to overcome all trials; therefore it is written, 'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength: they shall mount up with wings as eagles: they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.””—(Isaiah, xl. 31.)

CHAPTER VII.

The Hay-making, and the Conversation by the Brook.

WHAT a sweet field was that into which Henry Milner went to make hay with his uncle, on the afternoon of the same day in which he had received so many visiters in his little bed-room.

As he was going through the hall immediately after dinner, his uncle called him to him to the door of a closet under the staircase, and presented him with a nice, strong little rake, which he had made for him, and a fork which, though not made of iron, was very substantial, and would not easily come to pieces.

How happily did the little boy now follow his kind uncle through the garden, carrying his new fork and rake over his shoulders, and asking, as he went along, how they must be used.

"You will see the other haymakers at work, Henry," said Mr. Dalben, "and you must do as they do.”

When arrived in the field, they saw Thomas very busy with several poor work people out of the village. The field in which they were at work was on the declivity of a high bank, sloping towards the west. It was surrounded on the east and south by a thick wood, and on the north it opened towards the lovely valley of the Teme. In the lower part of this field were a few low

HENRY MILNER.

trees, or bushes, through which ran a clear stream, sometimes being hid by the bushes, and sometimes appearing plainly to the eye. A variety of wild waterplants, such as the marsh marygold and soapwort, grew At some seasons close upon its margin, and certain little fish were seen playing across its pebbled channel. of the year, that beautiful bird the kingfisher was said to visit this brook; but at this time this bird, called by the ancients the halcyon, was not to be seen, being perhaps driven from its usual haunts by the voices of the haymakers. Many cominoner birds, however, abounded near this place; and in the field on the other side of the water were many sheep and lambs, whose gentle bleatings sounded most agreeably among the other rural

murmurs.

Mr. Dalben had brought a book with him, and soon seated himself quietly on the grass near the brook to read; but Henry fell to work in tossing about the hay, with so little moderation, that in less than an hour he was quite tired, and was glad to sit down for a while by his uncle on the grass.

"I thought," said Mr. Dalben, "how it would be, Master Henry, when you set to work so furiously; and I think, if I heard rightly, Thomas warned you against so doing. Remember, my little man, from this adventure in the hay-field, that when you wish to work long, and to make yourself really useful, you must begin with moderation, and not exhaust yourself at first setting out."

Henry held down his head, and looked a little ashamed. Mr. Dalben, however, said no more on the subject, but advised him to remain quiet a while, to cool himself.

course.

Now, while Henry was sitting with his uncle in the field, they fell into some very pleasant and sweet disMr. Dalben pointed out to the little boy the brook which came tumbling from the high grounds above, and now ran gently murmuring at their feet; and then he explained to him the use of these little brooks, which abound in this country, namely, to convey nourishment to the thirsty lands, and to supply drink for the cattle and the birds which reside in the brakes and bushes.

"In countries," he said, "where these springs do not abound, the people are obliged to dig wells with immense labour, and to draw out their water from the bowels of the earth; and where water is not thus supplied, the

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lands become parched and dry, and will neither produce trees nor grass."

The good old gentleman then went on to speak of the Holy Spirit of God, "whose blessed gifts and graces," he told the little boy, "were compared in the Bible to gentle showers, and early dew, and flowing brooks, and fountains; because," added he, "showers, and dew, and running brooks soften the hard earth, and fit it for producing flowers and fruit, corn and herbs; and the Holy Spirit coming into the stony hearts of men makes them soft and tender, and fit for bringing forth holy and blessed works; therefore it is said, 'He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass, and as showers that water the earth.'"

"Is my heart tender?" said little Henry.

"I dare not yet say," said Mr. Dalben, "that I think it So. You certainly have not shown so many naughty tempers lately as you used to do; but if your heart was really changed, you would love God more than you do; you would be fonder of your Bible than you are; you would delight in singing hymns and in praying; and when any disagreeable task was given you to do, you would endeavour to do it with pleasure, hoping thereby to please your God."

"Oh!" said Henry, "I wish that the Holy Spirit of God would make my heart soft and tender."

"For whose sake, and in whose name, ought you to seek the help of the Holy Spirit ?" said Mr. Dalben. "For the sake of my Saviour," returned Henry. "Remember, my boy, that it is in the name of Christ, and through his merits only, that you, or I, or any poor sinful creature, must expect any favour from above."

The discourse between Mr. Dalben and Henry then took a different turn, and Mr. Dalben spoke of the sheep and lambs which were feeding on the other side of the brook.

"I knew an old gentleman," said Mr. Dalben, "who died twenty years ago, who knew the history of all the living creatures in the country, and could tell their modes of life and manners. He knew all the four-footed creatures which inhabit this land. He knew also the birds which live in the branches of the trees, and in old buildings and rocks. Those creatures which live half in water and half on the land he was also well acquainted with. He knew most of the fishes too which swim in