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child contented.. Home is the place to which we are accustomed: it is there that we have our parents, our brothers and sisters. We know every spot of it; and seem to love the very walls and doors, and the ground around it. There we have played in our infancy: and the spot was like a world to us, for we knew, and thought and cared little about any other spot.
The Lord has placed mankind in different parts of the earth and under different circumstances. Some live on a continent; others on islands ; some in regions of continual heat; others in perpetual cold. And even in the same region, and within a short distance of each other, families are distributed and arranged so as to promote the comfort and convenience of all. If all should live in the cities and towns, how should we get grain for our bread; or vegetables, fruit and the other productions of the earth, that are necessary for life? Or if all lived in the country, what would the farmer do to get rid of his wheat, and corn, and other articles that he now brings to the market, or sends in ships to other countries ? So it is that the wise Providence that governs men, and has caused them “ to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the bounds of their habitation."
These reflections should make us contented with our place of habitation, or willing to change it when it seems to be our duty. We should judge of others, not by the house they live in, but by what they are in themselves. A child is not made good by living in a cottage, nor is another bad because he lives in a marble house. There is sin and misery in all kinds of houses, and there may be holiness and happiness in all. Let us look to God to bless us, so that wherever we live we may enjoy his favour and care; let us love all our fellow-beings, wherever they live, and let us as brothers and sisters cherish that affection for each other that will cause us at all times to live in the peace and happiness which is so beautifully exhibited at our “Cottage Door.”
THE PROMISED WALK.
DEAR mother, as Mary and I have been good, And learned all our tasks, and been pleasant and
kind, You'll go, as you promised, with us, to the wood, The butter-cups gay, and sweet violets to find.
For winter has gone, with its cold and its snow, And spring has returned, with its sunshine and
showers; And I know where the earliest primroses grow, On a green mossy bank, that is covered with
The ice too, has goes from the brook in the vale, Where lately the school-boys assembled to skate ; And I'll take my new boat, just to see how she'll
sail, With pebbles for ballast, and flowers for freight.
The swallow and blue-bird have come back once
more, And a robin I saw, on the tall poplar tree; And they seemed to rejoice that the winter was
o'er, As they warbled together their sweet melody.
The industrious bee, too, is busy again,
Then since He remembers the flowers of the wood,
In one of the waning days of autumn 1 wandered
among the yellow arbours and along the rustling avenues of a spacious garden.
It seemed but yesterday that I was there on a balmy summer's morning. The dew which had lain all night upon the tender branches was passing away, and the air was loaded with fragrance. Every flower and leaf I could fancy to be in playful rivalry with the birds of the air, to see which should contribute most to the beauty and joyousness of the scene.
But now, all is changed. The dry and yellow leaves are strewed over all the beds, or are nestling together in some quiet corner, as if shrinking from observation or seeking to protect each other from the pitiless blast. All around me is desolate, dreary and forbidding.
Yet there I see, just at the angle of that grapetrellis yonder, a tall and graceful flower which seems to rear itself amidst decay and death, and even to gather fresher verdure and richer fragrancy