Lasket Lane-The butcher and his grey horse-Leafy LaneThe school children-Malt-shovel Lane, or HollowayViolet Lane-The vicar's daughter and her little nieceProspect Lane-Rooty-bank Lane-The learned companion -The word of God.

"Now, Edwin, if you are in a quiet, peaceful mood of mind, I think I can please you with a few lane pictures. There are so many kinds of lanes that you may choose for yourself what you will have."

I

"No, no; I had rather leave it to you. can trust you in drawing a picture of a lane, or of anything else."

Lasket

"Well, then, I will begin at once. Lane, in this wet weather, is surely one of the worst of all lanes. Stony in one part, and clayey in another; full of deep ruts, holes, and quagmires; and beset on each side with straggling brambles; it is almost impassable. Here comes a bold butcher with a basket of meat, mounted on a grey horse, dashing through the deep mud and mire at a hard trot. Why, he is splashed up to his very neck; and as for his grey horse, he is quite a fright. One glance at the butcher and his steed will tell you quite enough about Lasket Lane."

"I have had quite enough of it. None but a butcher and a butcher's horse could dash along through such a place. I have had quite enough of Lasket Lane."

66

Leafy Lane is so called because it is so much shaded with trees, that in the fall of the year, in places, it is half a foot deep in dry leaves. A troop of children from the school on their way home are passing along Leafy Lane. Oh! how they enjoy to tread on the dry, withered, crisp leaves, and to scatter them about with their feet!

'Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;
Another race the following spring supplies,

They fall successive, and successive rise:
So generations in their course decay;

So flourish these, when those have passed away.'"

"No doubt the children are very happy. I should be happy, too, in such a lane as that. Leafy Lane is worth a dozen Lasket Lanes."

"Sanders the maltster is trotting down Malt-shovel Lane, or Holloway, on his dark brown pony. Sanders is the landlord of the Malt-shovel. But look at the lane! A red, sandy rock runs up on each side of it, thirty or forty feet high, with hedges and trees at the top; while straggling plants, and creepers, and flowers adorn the sides. A rude, romantic place is Malt-shovel Lane."

"That it is, I am sure."

"The vicar's daughter and her little niece are loitering pleasantly in Violet Lane, gathering violets and primroses. How sweet is the perfumed air! How abundant are the flowers! and how calmly happy are those who are gathering them. Hark! the vicar's daughter is repeating some sweet verses to her little niece upon the violet:

'Thou shalt be mine, thou simplest flower,
Tenting thyself beneath the bower

Thy little leaves have made;

So meekly shrinking from the eye,
Yet mark'd by every passer by,
Of thine own sweets betray'd.

The rose may boast a brighter hue,
May yield as rich a fragrance too,
Yet let her yield to thee;
Not hers thy modesty of dress,
Not hers thy witching artlessness,
And these are more to me.'

"I should like to be in that lane with them

very well. I wonder whether they will gather most primroses or violets?"

"Prospect Lane is worth going miles to see. For a long way you walk cooped up between two thick, high hedges, through which you can see nothing; but all at once, when you get to the highest part, there is an opening, and oh! such a prospect! hills and valleys, woods and waters, villages and churches, with blue mountains in the distance mingling with the sky. The poet says—

'I admire,

None more admires, the painter's magic skill,
Who shows me that which I shall never see,

Conveys a distant country into mine,

And throws Italian light on English walls.

But imitative strokes can do no more

Than please the eye-sweet nature every sense.

The air salubrious of her lofty hills,

The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales,
And music of her woods-no work of man

Can rival these: these all bespeak a power
Peculiar and exclusively her own.'

"Prospect Lane would be a favourite of mine; I should often run to that high part where the opening is."

"I have said nothing of Rooty-bank Lane; but you must have a sketch of it. It is a steep, narrow lane, with high banks on each side, overshadowed with elm-trees, so that riding or walking the lane is a little like going up a tunnel. The roots of the high

elms form a sort of wooden wall on each side; for, after shooting up into trees, they run along the bank, and others spring up, just as the layers of a strawberry plant shoot up afresh."

"I do not wonder at it being called Rootybank Lane."

"The last time I walked along that lane it was with one who was learned in languages, and who had spent many years in translating the Holy Scriptures from Hebrew and Greek into other tongues. Having laboured too hard, he was obliged to exchange his books for country air and country exercise. He had found Solomon's saying to be true,