the fields next time: but just now I feel inclined to draw cottage pictures."

"Yes, they will do nicely; and I shall look forward to the field pictures, which will please me I know as well as any. In the cottage pictures there will be sure to be a vine growing round the walls, and blue smoke curling up from the chimney."

"I expect you will be drawing pictures for me soon. The blue smoke and the vine are very good points in a cottage picture; but a pious cottager and a Bible are yet better."

"Every cottage ought to have a Bible in it." "Yes, and pious cottagers too. Poor indeed is the finest palace wherein God is not worshipped, though its furniture be of silver, and its ornaments of wrought gold; while the meanest cottage, whose tenant is a disciple of the Redeemer, is a palace, for there dwells a prince, an heir of God,' ' a joint heir with Christ,' and 'an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.' Before I draw you any cottage pictures, let me give you a sketch of a country life, which I met with yesterday, ready drawn to my hands :

'I do a country life admire,

And ne'er of rural prospects tire.
I brooks and rivulets extol,

That o'er their pebbly channels roll,
With mossy banks, that nodding stand,
Rich corn that's waving o'er the land;
And shady groves, where zephyrs play,
And cool the sultry heat of day.

Whene'er I quit the noisy town,
And to my rural spot get down,
I find myself quite at my ease,
And can do whatsoe'er I please.
Sometimes I study, sometimes ride,
Or stroll along the river's side,
Or saunter through some fertile mead,
Where lowing herds in plenty feed;
Or rest upon a bank of flowers,
And innocently pass my hours.'

What is your opinion of this picture of country life? Does it please you?"

"Yes, father, it sounds so pretty in rhyme."

"That is but a poor reason, Edwin, for liking it. Now, though it does sound pretty in rhyme, I have some fault to find with it. It is too selfish a picture. There is no desire in it to be useful to man, and no expression of thankfulness to God."

"That is true, and that spoils the picture."

"To my mind the cottage of Edward Hope, the thatcher, is as neat and comfortable as any in the neighbourhood; and then God is worshipped in it with an humble heart; for Edward is a Bible reader, and knows Him whom to know is eternal life."

"I suppose Edward Hope thatched his own cottage, if he is a thatcher?"

"He did; and a better piece of work is not to be seen. He and his son are well known from one end of the parish to the other, for their honesty, industry, and skill. If you

wish to understand the art of thatching, you can hardly do better than watch Edward and his son at their work, thatching a rick. They split up hazels for pinning and binding down. They get clean straw into a heap, and splash water over it. They form it into long bundles in their hands. They bend these double near the end, making a sort of twisted knot which is tucked into the haystack near the eaves, the loose ends hanging down. They make a row of these all round the haystack, and then add row above row till the whole is finished in a stiff edging of straw at the top. Long pegs, bent and notched, are then driven into the stack to secure it, the edges and eaves are clipped straight, and then the work is completed."

"That is a good picture of thatching a hayrick; but it is not a picture of a cottage.'

"Very true, Edwin; and so I must try again. You shall have a picture of Robert Trueman's cottage. It stands on a little grassy slope, with a garden on one side of it. The window looks towards the setting sun, and a vine runs up the walls by the door."

"There now! did I not say there would be a vine?"

"Robert brings up his children nicely: he is at work now in the fields, with his eldest son Thomas; but Robert's wife, Mary, is sitting by the window as busy as a bee, and

as clean as a new shilling, with her three youngest children around her."

"What are their names? and what are they all doing?"

"One question at a time, Edwin, and then I can answer you. Little Sarah is a baby, and has a very pale face, for she has not been well; her mother looks at her, every now and then, rather anxiously. Poor little dear! she is very patient; though it may plainly be seen that she is not free from pain."

"I hope she will very soon get well." "Lucy is a funny little creature. She has a round, merry face, that not only laughs itself, but sets others laughing also. Her bright blue eye has sunshine in it, and seems to light up everything around her. Some would love her, even if she were naughty; but, being good, every one loves her. Smiling, giggling, laughing, and fond of play, she is gentle as a lamb, and does everything her mother tells her to do. Dear little Lucy!"

"She must be a nice little child, I am sure." "Alan is younger than Lucy, though he can read in the Testament. In the chapter he read this morning, there are these words: 'Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it,' Prov. xxii. 6. Mary Trueman is mending her husband's jacket; Alan is winding up some worsted, that poor pale-faced Sarah is

holding on her hands; and Lucy, little laughing, blue-eyed Lucy, is playing with the kitten on the floor. Sometimes you may see Alan and Lucy run out to meet their father as he returns from his work in the evening, and

right welcome has he to a warm and happy fireside, where all is clean and tidy around him."

"I hardly think you could draw a prettier picture than that."

"On the edge of the common stands, though it seems almost ready to tumble down, the cottage of Mark Holmes. If you want to see white walls, a clean floor, household furniture in order, and a tidy garden, keep away from Mark Holmes'; for where he lives