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metter; and he went to the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, and there, seated on the bank, beheld one of the most animated of the scenes which SUMMER affords, that is the washing of the sheep, preparatory to shearing. There, in the clear water, which flowed and rippled away over pebbles as bright and glistening as though they were made of pure gold, and all that is most beautiful and precious, stood the sturdy shepherds, who caught the frightened and struggling sheep, as they were driven and pushed from off the bank by the yelping dogs, and holloaing men, and laughing boys and girls, who from many a cottage round about had come forth into the bright sunshine to see and to share in the fun; they plunged and rolled them over and over, until their fleeces became as white, almost, as the driven snow, and then they were released, and went, shaking themselves and bleating piteously, to the opposite bank, where the breeze and the sunshine soon dried them again; and no doubt they felt all the more comfortable for their washing, as children always do; although, like the poor silly sheep, they frequently struggle and make a great noise while this process, so necessary to health, is going on. But we must now leave the stream, and follow the child in his pleasant wanderings with SUMMER ;

Many a day, many a day,

Up the hill-side wandered they;
Through the wood so still and pleasant,
Startling, oft, the whirring Pheasant;
Through the valley, too, they went,

Upon nought but pleasure bent-
Pleasure with instruction blent.

Morning saw them on the way,
Sultry noon beheld them rest
Underneath the Magpie's nest;
And when evening's shadows gray
Came upon them, down they lay,
Cheek to cheek, and breast to breast,
Wheresoever suited best.

And the child was very happy, gathering the flowers and chasing the butterflies in the fields, hunting for Strawberries and Wild Cherries in the wood, and watching the Squirrel as it leapt nimbly from tree to tree. Many a nest filled with clamorous young ones, queer-looking little things, with wide gaping bills, and starting eyes, and downy bodies, that seemed to have neither shape nor colour, did he peep cautiously into, fearing to alarm the parent birds, for he had been taught as all children should be, that they should not wantonly scare, much less hurt, any living creature; and the Fawn and the Leveret were his. playfellows, and the sweet Wood Linnet was his singing master, in which task the Nightingale would now and then, though but rarely, assist.

And the child was, as I said before, happy; aye, happy as the day was long; and had scarcely, or not at all, noticed that many of the sweet flowers began to fade and die away, and that a brown and golden hue was spreading over the corn fields, and the meadows, in place of the rich vivid green, which had so refreshed the eye to look upon; and every now and then there went through the forest a low melancholy sound, as of mourning and wailing for something lost, or departing; at which sound the tall trees, as

it were, shivered through all their stately frames, and as they did so, from every bough there fell a few shrivelled yellow leaves, that dropped upon the dry paths, and rustled beneath the feet of the traveller, or were caught by the breeze, and carried away, no one knew whither. The child, I say, had not noticed all these indications that his beautiful companion was about to leave him; imagine, therefore, his grief and surprise, when after a day on which there had been a terrific storm, when the rain came rushing down in torrents, and the thunder pealed, and the lightning flashed awfully around, he having been lulled into a calm sleep, by the soft tones of her encouraging voice, awoke in the morning, and found himself alone.

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THE

Fountain in the Wood.

BY H. J. SLACK, F.G.S.

LITTLE way apart from a great city, was a fountain in a wood. The water gushed from a rock and ran in a little crystal stream to a mossy basin below; the wild flowers nodded their heads to catch its tiny spray; tall trees overarched it, and through the interspaces of their moving leaves the sun-light came and danced with rainbow feet upon its sparkling surface.

There was a young girl, who managed every day to escape a little while from the turmoil of the city, and went, like a pilgrim, to the fountain in the wood. The water was sparkling, the moss and fern looked very lovely in the gentle moisture which the fountain cast upon them, and the trees waved their branches and rustled their green leaves in happy concert with the summer breeze. The girl loved the beauty of the scene, and it grew upon her. Every day the fountain

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had a fresh tale to tell, and the whispering murmur of the leaves was ever new. By-and-by she came to know something of the language in which the fountain, the ferns, the mosses, and the trees held converse. She listened very patiently, full of wonder and of love. She heard them often regret that man would not learn their language, that they might tell him the beautiful things they had to say. At last, the maiden ventured to tell them that she knew their tongue, and with what exquisite delight she heard them talk. The fountain flowed faster, more sunbeams danced on its waters, the leaves sang a new song, and the

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