“But, mother,” insisted Edward, “nothing can be so pleasant and startling, as when the curtain suddenly draws up and discovers a beautiful scene.”
“It may be more startling, my dear Ned, but it is not half so delightful as to see the curtain of night withdrawn in a clear summer morning, and the lovely objects of nature lighting up with the rays of the rising sun.”
“But, mother, there is the orchestra—”
“And in the country, my dear, we have bands of voluntary musicians on every side of us, who set all their wants, and all their pleasures to music, and pour them forth in the sweetest notes, from morning till night. These musicians will hover about our house and garden the entire summer, and ask no reward, but to share with us our cherries and raspberries; a small pittance from the generous stores of summer. But, come, my children, what next?”
“What next, Julia? Let us think—Oh, there is the museum. I am sure, mother, you cannot say a word against the museum—such a variety of curiosities, and elegant specimens of every thing, and I have heard you and papa both say, that it is a very instructive as well as amusing place to visit.”
“Certainly it is, my dear, a vast collection of natural wonders, and artificial curiosities; and I am glad you value it sufficiently to regret it. But, my dear children, nature has her museums every where: her productions are all curiosities, and the more you study them, the more you will admire the wisdom and goodness of their Creator. Every vegetable that springs from the kind bosom of the earth—the earth itself—the rocks—the pebbles—living creatures, their instincts and habitudes—are all a study for you. The volume is open and outspread before you: God grant me grace to train your minds and hearts, that you may read therein—read with that enlightened understanding and benevolent spirit, which prompted a christian philosopher to say, ‘the air, the earth, the water, teem with delighted existence. On whichever side I turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my view.’”
Any farther record of the conversation would be superfluous, and might prove tedious. It is our purpose to give some anecdotes of Edward and Julia, and not their history.
As might have been expected, our young friends in the country, were like beings rescued from an artificial mode of existence, and restored to their native element; and when their mother, at the expiration of the year, asked them if they were ready to return to town—
“Return to town, now, mother!” exclaimed Edward, “it is impossible.”
“Some time or other, mama, perhaps we should like to go back, but not now,” said Julia. “We cannot go now, when we have so much to do. The frost is just out of the ground, and Ned and I are as busy as bees in our garden.”