for silence, in order to read a new poem Mr. Osborn gave her this morning; and, if you had not lessons to learn, she would desire your company, as it would increase the pleasure she expects from her book."

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Lessons, lessons, lessons!" said Henry; "heigh ho! when will the time come, when they will all be over, and one can read just when, and what one pleases? what a joyful time that will be, dear aunt!"

"Believe me, my boy, and I speak from the experience of others, as well as my own, you will never be happier than you now are."

"Ah, dear aunt, grown folks think so, because they forget all the troubles of us poor boys; and they forget how hard it is to get up at sunrise, when one is so sleepy that he can scarcely keep his eyes open, even on the way to school: then such long, long tasks; English, Latin, Greek, grammar, geography, astronomy, and twenty other onomies into the bargain, all to be stuffed into one's head one after the other, hour after hour, and day after day. Then the ferule, the dunce's cap, the block, the stocks, confinement in that confounded dark hole, and a dozen other contrivances for

making dunces learn their books: and such wild chaps as myself love to read better than to play. But grown folks forget all these things, and then say How happy

children are!"

"Well," said Edward, "there is but one thing which makes me impatient to be a

man."

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Pray what may that be, my son ?"

"To do as I please. I think it no hardship to rise early, or to study all day; but I do not like to be made to do it."

"How like a Virginian that is!" said Henry; "if you go to any of the eastern colleges, you must leave such notions at home."

"Then I shall leave the capacity of learning at home," replied the independent boy; the moment I am ordered to do a thing, that moment I dislike it; but leave me to myself, and I will learn twice as much as any taskmaster would give me."

"Let us try the experiment to-night," said his father, as he rose to go to his office, where he generally passed his evenings in reading; the two boys sitting with lim until nine o'clock, studying their lessons.

4

WINTER IN WASHINGTON.

"I shall feel like an exile from the parlour to-night, and think too much of the joys I have left, to give much attention, even to Cæsar himself.-That new poem, sister but go I must; so, charming poet, and dear ladies, good-night!" said Edward, as he closed the door, and followed his father and cousin Henry.

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Emily, my little one, is it not time for you to say good-night too?"

"Oh no, mamma, it is only seven o'clock, and I have my work all ready.-Here, sister, is the book-here, mamma, is your work.-Now, Ned, make up a good fire, and snuff the candles, and how snug we will be! I hope no one will come in to disturb us, for I do love to hear sister read, while I sew."

Some one knocked at the door." Your wish will not be granted to-night, Emily: but do not look as if you were angry, my child; the visitor may be a friend or neighbour, who designs us a favour."

The door opened, and Theodore Desmond entered. Emily jumped from her chair, and running to him, seized his hand, exclaiming " Only think, I felt angry when I heard your knock at the door, and

yet there is no one in the world I am so glad to see; come, give me your hat, and sit down by the table."

Theodore yielded his hat to his little friend and playfellow, seated himself between Mrs. Seymour and Louisa, and taking up the book, exclaimed with delight-" The Lady of the Lake! the very book I have been anxiously seeking these three days."

"I believe," said Louisa, "it is the only copy yet received in the city, and I rejoice you have come this evening, as I had much rather hear you read than read myself-so, Emily, dear, get my work-box too, and while the needle plies its busy task,' our friend Theodore will make the poet's page vocal for the amusement of the rest."

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'Willingly, dear Miss Louisa! but how much more willingly, if, as last autumn, when we were at Seymour Cottage, we could be as secure from all interruption! What delightful evenings we passed in the country! ah, evenings never to be forgotten; when, after our long rambles through the half-leafless woods, and rustling cornfields after your visitations, Louisa, to some distant cottage, to which you had carried joy and comfort, we returned home, laden

with grapes and nuts, your cheeks glowing like the western sky, and your hair disordered by the first cold winds of coming winter; how delightful to cluster round the blazing hearth, and warm our half-numbed fingers!"

"Yes, Mr. Theodore, and to roast our chesnuts too," exclaimed little Emily.

"The best way in the world to warm one's fingers, Emily."

"To be sure, sister, and burn them into the bargain, sometimes."

"And then," continued the enthusiastic Theodore, "just as our favourite Cowper describes, we

'Stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,

Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,'

and drink of those cups which cheer, but not inebriate. Never is this social meal so much enjoyed, as after a long walk on a cool autumnal evening."

"I love country tea better than city tea -don't you, sister?" said Emily.

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Seeing they all laughed, she continued"I call it country tea, when we all sit round the tea-table, and have hot biscuits, and apple-pies, or sweetmeats and milk, or some such nice things.-But in the city, you