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ing and whistling. The stone had rolled into a wasps' nest, and the poor dog had paid the penalty of being stung, for his unintentional intrusion. Armed with nut-boughs, we attacked the wasps' nest, widening the hole, and tearing down the bank with sticks. The enraged wasps were soon among us, and dearly did we pay for our trespass. In vain we laid about us with our nut-boughs; two were stung in the neck, and three on the leg; while another, on whose face a wasp had settled, was led away smarting with pain, and blind with one eye. The scene is now before me.

It was by yonder barn that I once crept silently behind one of my schoolfellows, who was leaning over some pales, apparently in deep meditation, or in prayer. At that time my young heart was tender and ardent, and I yearned for some companion in holy things, for I had none. With a light step and an eager heart I drew near, hoping to hear the words of prayer, or the name of the Redeemer falling from his lips. Alas! he was trilling a silly song, and I came away sad and sorrowing.

To the right yonder is Wood Pool, where we used to bathe; and near it stood the Ragged Windows, a crazy old habitation, which for years remained tenantless, having the reputation

of being haunted. The thatched roof had in many places fallen in, the walls were dilapidated, the doors broken, and hardly a whole pane of glass was left in the windows of the deserted dwelling.

On the left, towering to the clouds, are the Malvern Hills, presenting a goodly spectacle. The distant summit, to the north, is thought by some to be the highest ground in England: the country around it now is cultivated; but in my boyish days it was a widely extended heath, famous for its dreariness, and for the desperate deeds that highwaymen and nightly robbers had performed there. At that time, there stood a gibbet on a lone part of the heath, where hung in irons the bones of a murderer. Once, I was lost there at nightfall, with a companion, and wandered for hours on the dark and desolate moor, in momentary expectation of a desperate attack. We were picked up, at last, by two well-mounted travellers, who allowed us to ride behind them to the neighbouring town, to which they were bound. In after years, my schoolfellow went abroad, and perished in the sea, in the prime of his youth; and here am I, with the grey hairs on my head, still alive, and gazing on the scenes of my boyhood!

I can fancy, while I look around, that I hear

the shrill voices of my schoolmates, subdued by the distance, borne upon the breeze; but, no! those voices will never again reach me. Many things that I remember give me pleasure. My schoolmaster was unreasonably severe, but my schoolmistress was kind; and there were among my teachers those whom I call to mind with respect, with gratitude, and with affection. What a dream is the past! It is now near twenty years since I met with any one to whom I could say, "We were at school together."

Willingly would I have gazed upon these scenes with one who could share my emotions; but that was not to be. A solemn feeling is stealing over me as I leave them, perhaps for ever. The sun is about to set, and my sun is fast going down. May I find, through mercy, when flesh and heart shall fail me, that God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for



It seems to me that there is not merely health, but absolute improvement to be gained from exercise and the pure breeze of heaven; for they drive away discontent and repining, and fill the heart with satisfaction, cheerfulness, brotherhood, and thankfulness.

Give freedom and fresh air to a grateful-spirited stroller, and his wants are well nigh supplied. He can cheerfully dispense with dainty meats and the sparkling glass, who finds a well-spread feast on the blackberry bush, and a delicious draught in every running stream. To attempt to describe the delights of wandering to those who know them not, would be vain; to those who do know them, it would be unnecessary. For myself, so great is my enjoyment in the open air, that, take away the tinkering and fortune-telling, the hedge-pulling and hen-roostrobbing of a vagabond life; in short, remove immorality and disgrace from the calling, and

give it some profitable object, and I could be well content, for a season, to wander like a gipsy.

I am now at Brighton, and am forcibly reminded, by some of the scenes around me, of my first visit to this place. Let me, then, for a moment, go back to that season, and live over again the pleasant ramble that then brought me here. Time has etched, since then, grave records on my brow, and experience has impressed some sobrieties on my heart.

Thus, when our hair is turning grey,

We sometimes heave a sigh,

And muse upon the seasons past-
The yesterdays gone by.

And while we cast a glance behind,

Our pathway to review,

With all our cares we call to mind

Our mingled mercies too.

It was early on a summer's morning, well nigh twenty years ago, that a friend and I, full of life and spirit, set off on foot from a Herefordshire village, taking the road to Newent. We were dressed alike, in light coats, and trowsers of pepper and salt fustian. My friend wore a cap, while a chip hat adorned my brows. Thus accoutred, and bearing a small parcel, with stick in hand, we walked on, anticipating a lengthy and a pleasant tour.

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