as the fire is re-lit, forth they come, and again their cheerful voices are heard in unison with the crackling blaze. The village matron regards them with a kind of superstitious reverence; and though the heated atmosphere, which they inhabit, often inclines them to sip her milk and broth, or even to gnaw holes in her wet aprons, and woollen stockings, when hung up to dry, they are to her barometers that never fail. If they sing more merrily than usual, and seem to rejoice in the warm roof that shelters them, rain approaches; if they bound suddenly from their lurking-places, some dear friend is coming, or good luck of some kind; if their cheerful voices become faint, then there is sorrow in the wind, one of the bairns will sicken, or labour fail. The canary, too, sings in concert with the flying shuttle of the weaver, or to amuse the village matron at her wheel, when the rain is beating against the casement, and the wind rudely shakes it, as if to force an entrance. Our cottagers are fond of keeping birds; the bulfinch, blackbird, and thrush, are often made prisoners, but the canary is a prime favourite that sprightly and affectionate little songster, which warbles through the year, and is, consequently, our chosen friend. It enlivens us when the frosts of winter are abroad, and heightens the pleasures of the you. social circle. It amuses the young, cheers the old, and often varies the monotony of a sick chamber. Now, courteous reader! I have brought my pleasant labours to a close. Perhaps these labours may excite within you a love for similar pursuits, and then, if placed in scenes of rural quiet, you may thank me for directing your attention to the great museum that surrounds But if your lot is cast in a crowded city, even then it may not displease you to retrace with me the sites of those fair flowers, that open to the purest air of heaven; to hear something of the loves and friendships of such gentle creatures, as frequent our woods and meadows, and much that I have seen and felt among the hills and valleys of my own sweet village. Beautiful they were in spring, in summer, and in autumn; even now, that winter has wrapt them in her snowy vest, they are still beautiful; and I have thought them so, reader! when not a leaf was heard to rustle on the trees, and when careering clouds were driven by gusty winds along the heavens; for then, amid the deep beech-woods, and on the common, I have seen such traces of love, beneficence, and wisdom, that my heart has glowed within me; and there, too, I have often listened to that small still voice, which seems to speak throughout the universe. It spake to Adam in the earliest spring-tide of the world-it speaks to you, reader! of whatever rank you are, whether among the great ones of the earth, or among those, who assimilate in outward station with Him, who had not where to lay his head. It tells you something of the laws, by which myriads are regulated, of the instincts, by which they are impelled, of that Almighty Power, who has placed you in this fair world to contemplate and adore his greatness. Happy are you, if you confess him in his works, the Creator in the things created; yet even these are but a little portion of his wonders. We now see them through a darkened glass, and hardly with searching can we comprehend a few of the most obvious; but a period will arrive, when the veil shall be removed, when the understanding of the redeemed shall be opened to comprehend the glories, and the wonders of creation, when they will know, even as they are known. Obtain, dear reader! a foretaste of these pleasures, endeavour to know something of his works, who has created and sustains you. Listen not to the narrow counsels of those, who unthinkingly assert, that a taste for them will militate against such knowledge, as alone can make you wise unto salvation. Patriarchs and prophets rejoiced in the works of nature. David spoke of them in strains of gratitude and adoration your Lord has told you to observe the flowers of the field, the birds that fly along the heavens; He illustrates his most important truths by referring to a grain of corn, a vine, a mustard-seed, and will you disregard Him? Let it be daily your delight, to trace his beneficence in the visible creation, to adore, and to acknowledge Him, in all his works; but stop not here-there are greater things than these, even that love to fallen man, of which the driving shower and loud wind in this dull season, the bright flowers of advancing spring, summer's cloudless skies, and the rich fields of autumn, may forcibly remind you.* * Isai. Iv. 10, 11; St. John iii. 8; St. Matt. vi. 28-30; St. Matt. iii. 16, 17; St. Matt. ix. 37, 38. A A ERRATA. Page 32, line 4, for x11. of December, read XXII. 71, 75, 78, 79, 95, 118, 125, 186, 237, 6, for noted, read to note. 20, for allequa, read allegua. 23, insert white before hare. 4, for at Cheltenham, read to Cheltenham. 15, for It, read I. 20, for gallipaoo, read gallipavo. - 15, for twenty-five, read fifteen. 272, |