And the rook has built his on a tree."

BERNARD BARTON.


About a mile off, at the other end of the wood, was a village, which
joined an old town so closely that they seemed to be only one place.

The old town was quiet now; but it had been a very busy place many years
ago, in the old coach days. I cannot tell you how many coaches daily ran
through it, or changed horses at the different inns, on their way from
London to towns in distant parts of England.

Now the railway had stopped every coach, and in the valley, through
these very woods, the trains rushed along, panting and puffing as if
they were running a race with Time.

Fortunately, the trains ran through a tunnel at this spot, so the beauty
of the woods was not disturbed.

There was a large green belonging to the village, on the edge of which
lived the children's aunt Lizzie, who had married a doctor. She had two
children--Tom, who was eleven years old, and Katey, who was nine. They
went to school daily in the adjoining town, so they were unable to see
much of their cousins, excepting upon half-holidays, as it was now
school time.

But you must not suppose that Jack and his sisters did nothing but play
during this long visit. As soon as they had settled down, grandmamma
engaged a young lady to come to teach them for about two hours every