or town, if every working-man in it could be induced to spend his evenings at home, and in this manner. A reform in this single particular would work wonders. Every one who is admitted to such a scene, feels at once that there is a charm in it. Why, then, are there so many families, where nothing of this kind is known? To give all the reasons might be tedious; but I must mention one or two. First, there must be punctuality, neatness, and thrift in the affairs of housekeeping, to make such a state of things practicable. No man loves to take his seat between two washingtubs, or beside a fire where lard is simmering, or to stretch his legs over a hearth where almost every spot is occupied by some domestic utensil. Then, there must be a feeling of mutual respect and love, to afford inducement to come together in this way. Further, it is difficult to maintain these happy evening groups without some little sprinkling of knowledge. The house where there are no books is a dull house; the talk is amazingly dull talk. Reading makes pleasant conversation. George always has some good thing to read to Mary; or Mary some useful fact to repeat to George. A little learning in the family is like a little salt in the barrel, it keeps all sound and savoury. And, finally, I feel it incumbent on me to repeat what has been said more than once already, that he who overtasks his days, has no evenings. In our country, thank God, labour need not be immoderate to keep one alive. There

is such a thing as working too much, and thus becoming a mere beast of burden. I could name some men, and more women, who seem to me to be guilty of this error. Consequently, when work is past they are fit for nothing but solid sleep. Such are the men and the women who have no domestic pleasures; no reading, ro im provement, no delightful evenings at home.

XXXVIII.

THE WORKING-MAN IN THE COUNTRY.

"As one who long in populous city pent

Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight,
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound-

MILTON.

EVERY man, until his taste is completely vitiated, and habit, a second nature, has inverted his native propensities, will experience a satisfaction upon going into the country; and there is a particular zest in the little excursions of the townbred artisan, who leaves the brick, and mortar, and confined air within, to enjoy the gaiety and freshness of rural environs. These visits have pleasant associations. We connect them with fine weather, clean clothes, holidays, and good company; and it is not unlikely that much of the beauty of the country is merely an emanation from our own cheerfulness. Yet after every de

duction on this score, we shall all say with the poet,

"God made the country, but man made the town!"

It is not wonderful, therefore, that many of our working-men, as soon as they are able, take their families into the country, either for the summer, or as a permanent residence. A large proportion of the snug little farms around our great towns, are tilled by mechanics, some of whom have retired from trade, while others still continue in business, and use these as their places of retreat. This tendency to the country seems to be on the increase, and I am persuaded it augurs well for the future respectability of the whole class. There are few mechanics in our land who may not look forward to the possession and occupancy of a few acres; and the expectation is a very cheering one to those who have to ply their sedentary tasks, year after year, in the same unventilated shops or lofts. There is a feeling of independence in surveying one's own grounds, however small in extent; there is a perpetual gratification of natural taste in the sights, sounds, and odours of the country; but there are more substantial benefits. No device for the prevention of disease or the restoration of health, is comparable to that of moderate agricultural labour. The fresh air, the exhalation of newly opened furrows, the morning ride, the succession of vegetables and fruits, the continual variety of employments, the intervals of absolute rest, and the placid ease of mind, concur to keep the animal powers in their most healthful play. I scarcely know which season most to covet: spring is balmy and full of

promise; summer affords gorgeous flowers and sunny harvest; autumn comes laden with fruits; and even winter brings days of healthful labour and evenings of cheerfulness and improvement by the ample fire-place.

There is no situation in which children may be brought up in greater security from the temptations of a wicked world. They must, indeed, become somewhat restive; they may, perhaps, be bashful, and will fail of having that precocious assurance, and almost pertness, which one observes in too many city lads. But from how many moral defilements are they protected! Having had some trial of both situations in my earlier days, I do not hesitate a moment to say, that the temptations of boyhood are far less in a farm than in any other condition in life. Then we should take into the reckoning the strength, and agility, and manliness which are fostered in a country life. The youthful limbs are developed, and the constitution made robust by labour, sport, and exposure. Sometimes the little farmer strains the young horse across the meadow, or with his faithful dogs traverses the wood, and climbs high to dislodge the squirrel or the raccoon from the slender hickory. Or he dashes into the rapid stream, or rows his boat, or drives his herd into distant pastures, regardless of rains and snows, which would put in jeopardy the lives of more effeminate boys Certainly the solids of physical education are best secured in the country.