the children and teach them when to go to bed: for it was a rule with the wise men of that age (and a very good one, let me tell you) to

The school where she taught was that which was before kept by Mrs. Williams. The room was large, and as she knew that nature intended children should be always in action, she placed her different letters, or alphabets, all round the school, so that every one was obliged to get up to fetch a letter or spell a word when it came to his turn; which not only kept them in health but fixed the letters and points firmly in their minds.

She had the following assistants to help her, and I will tell you how she came by them. One day as she was going through the next village she met with some wicked boys who had got a young raven, which they were going to throw at; she wanted to get the poor creature out of their cruel hands, and therefore gave them a penny for him, and brought him home. She called his name Ralph, and a fine bird he was.

Some days after she had met with the raven, as she was walking in the fields she saw some naughty boys who had taken a pigeon and tied a string to its leg, in order to let it fly and draw it back again when they pleased; and by this means they tortured the poor animal with the hopes of liberty and repeated disappointment. This pigeon she also bought. He was a very pretty fellow, and she called him Tom.

Some time after this a poor lamb had lost its dam, and the farmer being about to kill it, she bought it of him and

Rise with the lark and lie down with the lamb.

This lamb she called Will, and a pretty fellow he was.

Soon after this a present was made to Mrs. Margery of a little dog, Jumper, and a pretty dog he was. Jumper, Jumper, Jumper! He was always in good humor and playing and jumping about, and therefore he was called Jumper. The place assigned for Jumper was that of keeping the door, so that he may be called the porter of the college, for he would let nobody go out or any one come in without the leave of his mistress.

But one day a dreadful accident happened in the school. It was on a Thursday morning, I very well remember, when the children having learned their lessons soon, she had given them leave to play, and they were all running about the school and diverting themselves with the birds and the lamb. At this time the dog, all of a sudden, laid hold of his mistress's apron and endeavored to pull her out of the school. She was at first surprised; however, she followed him to see what he intended.

No sooner had he led her into the garden than he ran back and pulled out one of the children in the same manner; upon which she ordered them all to leave the school immediately; and they had not been out five minutes before the top of the house fell in. What a miraculous deliverance was here! How gracious! How good was God Almighty, to save all these children from destruction, and to make use of such an

instrument as a little sagacious animal to accomplish His divine will! I should have observed that as soon as they were all in the garden, the dog came leaping round them to express his joy, and when the house had fallen, laid himself down quietly by his mistress.

Some of the neighbors, who saw the school fall and who were in great pain for Margery and the little ones, soon spread the news through the village, and all the parents, terrified for their children, came crowding in abundance; they had, however, the satisfaction to find them all safe, and upon their knees, with their mistress, giving God thanks for their happy deliverance.

You are not to wonder, my dear reader, that this little dog should have more sense than you, or your father, or your grandfather.

Though God Almighty has made man the lord of creation, and endowed him with reason, yet in many respects He has been altogether as bountiful to other creatures of His forming. Some of the senses of other animals are more acute than ours, as we find by daily experience.

The downfall of the school was a great misfortune to Mrs. Margery; for she not only lost all her books, but was destitute of a place to teach in. Sir William Dove, being informed of this, ordered the house to be built at his own expense, and till that could be done, Farmer Grove was so kind as to let her have his large hall to teach in.

sense and prudent behavior; and she was so much esteemed that most of the differences in the parish were left to her decision.

One gentleman in particular, I mean Sir Charles Jones, had conceived such a high opinion of her that he offered her a considerable sum to take care of his family and the education of his daughter, which, however, she refused. But this gentleman, sending for her afterwards when he had a dangerous fit of illness, she went and behaved so prudently in the family and so tenderly to him and his daughter that he would not permit her to leave his house, but soon after made her proposals of marriage. She was truly sensible of the honor he intended her, but, though poor, she would not consent to be made a lady until he had effectually provided for his daughter.

All things being settled and the day fixed, the neighbors came in crowds to see the wedding; for they were all glad that one who had been such a good little girl, and was become such a virtuous and good woman, was going to be made a lady. But just as the clergyman had opened his book, a gentleman richly dressed, ran into the church, and cried, "Stop! stop!"

This greatly alarmed the congregation, particularly the intended bride and bridegroom, whom he first accosted and desired to speak with them apart. After they had been talking some little time, the people were greatly surprised to see Sir Charles stand motionless and his bride cry and faint away in the stranger's arms. This seeming grief, however, was

immediately succeeded; for you must know, gentle reader, that this gentleman, so richly dressed and bedizened

with lace, was that identical little boy whom you before saw in the sailor's habit; in short, it was little Tom TwoShoes, Mrs. Margery's brother, who had just come from beyond sea, where he had made a large fortune. Hearing, as soon as he landed, of his sister's intended wedding, he had ridden in haste to see that a proper settlement was made on her; which he thought she was now entitled to, as he himself was both able and willing to give her an ample fortune. They soon returned to their places and were married in tears, but they were tears of joy.

379

Evenings at Home, one of the important books in the history of the development of literature for children, was published in six small volumes, from 1792 to 1796. It was a result of a newly awakened interest in the real world round about us and represented the profound reaction against the "fantastic visions" and "sweetmeats" of popular literature. The main purpose was to give instruction by showing things as they really are. The plan of the book is very simple. The Fairbornes, with a large "progeny of children, boys and girls," kept a sort of open house for friends and relatives. Many of these visitors, accustomed to writing, would frequently produce a fable, a story, or a dialogue, adapted to the age and understanding of the young people. These papers were dropped into a box until the children should all be assembled at holidays. Then one of the youngest was sent to 'rummage the budget," which meant to reach into the box and take the paper that he happened to touch. It was brought in and read and considered; then the process was repeated. "Eyes, and No Eyes" was drawn out on the twentieth evening. Evenings at Home was written by Dr. John Aikin (1747-1822) and his sister Mrs. Anna Letitia Barbauld (1743-1825).

Dr. Aikin seems to have written the larger number of the hundred papers composing the book. Mrs. Barbauld's share is placed at fifteen papers by authority of the Dictionary of National Biography. Some of the children in these stories may perceive more closely than normal children do, but this defect may add a charm if the reader keeps in mind that this is one of the earliest nature books for children. Stories of this kind require the presence of some omniscient or "encyclopedic" character to whom all the things requiring an answer may be referred. Mr. Andrews in "Eyes, and No Eyes," Mr. Barlow in Day's Sandford and Merton, and Mr. Gresham in Miss Edgeworth's "Waste Not, Want Not" are good illustrations of this type.

DR.

EYES, AND NO EYES

OR

THE ART OF SEEING

AIKIN AND MRS. BARBAULD

"Well, Robert, whither have you been walking this afternoon?" said Mr. Andrews to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday.

R. I have been, sir, to Broom-heath, and so round by the windmill upon Camp-mount, and home through the meadows by the river side.

Mr. A. Well, that's a pleasant round. R. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with a single person. I had rather by half have gone along the turnpike-road.

Mr. A. Why, if seeing men and horses were your object, you would, indeed, have been better entertained on the high-road. But did you see William?

R. We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I walked on and left him.

Mr. A. That was a pity. He would have been company for you.

R. Oh, he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this thing and that! I had rather walk alone. I dare say he has not got home yet.

liam, where have you been?

W. A little further on, I saw a green woodpecker fly to a tree, and run up the trunk like a cat.

Mr. A. That was to seek for insects

W. Oh, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broom-heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the hill, and then down among the green meadows, by the side of the river.

Mr. A. Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking, and he complains of its dullness, and prefers the high-road.

W. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step that did not delight me, and I have brought home my handkerchief full of curiosities.

Mr. A. Suppose, then, you give us some account of what amused you so much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as to me.

W. I will, sir. The lane leading to the heath, you know, is close and sandy; so I did not mind it much, but made the best of my way. However, I spied a curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of which grew a great bunch of something green, quite different from the tree itself. Here is a branch of it.

Mr. A. Ah! this is mistletoe, a plant of great fame for the use made of it by the Druids of old in their religious rites and incantations. It bears a very slimy white berry, of which birdlime may be made, whence its Latin name of Viscus. It is one of those plants which do not grow in the ground by a root of their own, but fix themselves upon other plants; whence they have been humorously styled parasitical, as being hangers-on, or dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak that the Druids particularly honored.

W. What beautiful birds they are!

Mr. A. Yes; the woodpecker has been called, from its color and size, the English parrot.

W. When I got upon the open heath, how charming it was! The air seemed so fresh, and the prospect on every side so free and unbounded! Then it was all covered with gay flowers, many of which I had never observed before. There were, at least, three kinds of heath (I have got them in my handkerchief here), and gorse, and broom, and bell-flower, and many others of all colors that I will beg you presently to tell me the names of.

Mr. A. That I will, readily.

W. I saw, too, several birds that were new to me. There was a pretty greyish one, of the size of a lark, that was hopping about some great stones; and when he flew, he showed a great deal of white about his tail.

Mr. A. That was a wheat-ear. They are reckoned very delicious birds to eat, and frequent the open downs in Sussex, and some other counties, in great numbers.

W. There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy part of the heath, that amused me much. As I came near them, some of them kept flying round and round, just over my head, and crying pewet, so distinctly, one might almost fancy they spoke. I thought I should have caught one of them, for he flew as though one of his wings was broken, and

often tumbled close to the ground; but as I came near, he always made a shift to get away.

Mr. A. Ha, ha! you were finely taken in then! This was all an artifice of the bird's, to entice you away from its nest; for they build upon the bare ground, and their nests would easily be observed, did they not draw off the attention of intruders by their loud cries and counterfeit lameness.

W. I wish I had known that, for he led me a long chase, often over-shoes in water. However, it was the cause of my falling in with an old man and a boy who were cutting and piling up turf for fuel, and I had a good deal of talk with them about the manner of preparing the turf, and the price it sells at. They gave me, too, a creature I never saw before-a young viper, which they had just killed, together with its dam. I have seen several common snakes, but this is thicker in proportion, and of a darker color than they are.

Mr. A. True. Vipers frequent those turfy, boggy grounds pretty much; and I have known several turf-cutters bitten by them.

till it was lost behind a ridge of hills. But I'll tell you what I mean to do, sir, if you will give me leave. Mr. A. What is that?

W. I will go again, and take with me the county map, by which I shall probably be able to make out most of the places.

Mr. A. You shall have it, and I will go with you, and take my pocket spyingglass.

W. I shall be very glad of that. WellWell-a thought struck me, that as the hill is called Camp-mount, there might probably be some remains of ditches and mounds, with which I have read that camps were surrounded. And I really believe I discovered something of that sort running round one side of the mound.

Mr. A. Very likely you might. I know antiquaries have described such remains as existing there, which some suppose to be Roman, others Danish. We will examine them further, when we go.

W. From the hill, I went straight down to the meadows below, and walked on the side of a brook that runs into the

Mr. A. Enough so to make their wounds painful and dangerous, though they seldom prove fatal.

W. Well-I then took my course up to the windmill, on the mount. I climbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view of the country around. What an extensive prospect! I counted fifteen church-steeples; and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out from the midst of green woods and plantations; and I could trace the windings of the river all along the low grounds,

and flags, and tall flowering plants, quite different from those I had seen on the heath. As I was getting down the bank, to reach one of them, I heard something plunge into the water near me. It was a large water-rat, and I saw it swim over to the other side, and go into its hole. There were a great many large dragonflies all about the stream. I caught one of the finest, and have got him here in a leaf. But how I longed to catch a bird that I saw hovering over the water, and that every now and then darted down into it! It was all over a mixture of the