no watering, and is more beautiful than ever, beating my old rival
in that primitive art, the pretty wife of the little mason, out and
out. Measured with mine, her flowers are naught. Look at those
hollyhocks, like pyramids of roses; those garlands of the
convolvulus major of all colours, hanging around that tall pole,
like the wreathy hop-bine; those magnificent dusky cloves, breathing
of the Spice Islands; those flaunting double dahlias; those splendid
scarlet geraniums, and those fierce and warlike flowers the
tiger-lilies. Oh, how beautiful they are! Besides, the weather
clears sometimes--it has cleared this evening; and here are we,
after a merry walk up the hill, almost as quick as in the winter,
bounding lightly along the bright green turf of the pleasant common,
enticed by the gay shouts of a dozen clear young voices, to linger
awhile, and see the boys play at cricket.

I plead guilty to a strong partiality towards that unpopular class
of beings, country boys: I have a large acquaintance amongst them,
and I can almost say, that I know good of many and harm of none. In
general they are an open, spirited, good-humoured race, with a
proneness to embrace the pleasures and eschew the evils of their
condition, a capacity for happiness, quite unmatched in man, or
woman, or a girl. They are patient, too, and bear their fate as
scape-goats (for all sins whatsoever are laid as matters of course
to their door), whether at home or abroad, with amazing resignation
and, considering the many lies of which they are the objects, they
tell wonderfully few in return. The worst that can be said of them
is, that they seldom, when grown to man's estate, keep the promise
of their boyhood; but that is a fault to come--a fault that may not
come, and ought not to be anticipated. It is astonishing how
sensible they are to notice from their betters, or those whom they