was three miles farther. There was no coach to take us there, so we had to walk. It was rather a long walk for a little boy who was already tired; but it was a change from riding, so we managed pretty well.

As we shall take this walk again before we return home, I will not say anything about it in this long letter. I shall only say that we reached grandfather's house early in the evening, and that though your brother was very glad to see all his kind friends there, he was quite ready to go to bed and to sleep.

I am sure my little girl will be pleased to hear that her father and brother are quite well; and she will remember who it is that keeps us in health and safety, whether we are at home or abroad.

"May she ever know and fear Him,
Trust and love him all her days;
Then go, dwell for ever near him,
See his face and sing his praise."

CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST DAY AT GRANDFATHER'S.

“FATHER, I think that is a very long letter you are writing."

"I shall soon have finished it," said George's father. 66 But, you know, I promised your sister I would write a long letter to her; and I think you would not wish to deprive her of it, would you?"

"No, father; only-only I am tired of looking at these books. I should like to go out into the garden."

"Well, you may go into the garden; and when I have done writing I will come to you there."

George went into the garden; and there he found his grandmother, who walked and talked with him until his father had written the letter.

This was the morning after the journey; and George had not so far got over the fatigue of it as to care to take a long walk. Mr. Hardy, therefore, had chosen this time for writing the promised letter to his little Emma.

As soon as George saw his father coming towards him in the garden, he left his grandmother's side, and ran to him shouting with great glee, "Oh, father, you do not know what I have eaten, do you?"

we reached it, we found we had half an hour to spare before the train would leave. So, having put our carpet-bags into a proper place, we took a little stroll into the town. I do not, however, recollect seeing anything there, in that short time, that is worth telling you. Oh yes, there was one thing that you would have been very much pleased with. It was a pretty little dog; a greyhound, not much larger than a large cat, only its legs were longer. It came running out of a house as we passed by; and it jumped about us as though it knew us; and when your brother stooped down to stroke it, it stood quite still, and wagged its tail, and seemed very much pleased that it was taken notice of. And George was pleased too, as you may suppose; and he gave it a piece of the cake which he had in his pocket. George was sorry to leave the pretty dog, and he wished that we had such an one at home; but if we had, I do not think it would be of much use to us. Dogs of this sort are called Italian greyhounds. They are kept more for their beauty than their use; and folks that have got little boys and girls to take care of, do not need pet dogs to amuse them, do they?

After we had played with the dog a little longer, we thought it was time to get back to the railway. And so it was; for the carriages were all ready, and the people who were going in them were taking their seats.

So we took our carpet-bags, paid the money for our tickets, and took our seats too.

And then we heard the steam-engine begin to puff, and we felt the carriage we were in begin to move. At first it moved very slowly; but every minute it went quicker and quicker, until it soon moved along the road, faster than a horse could gallop, and we quite lost sight of the station which we had started from.

Perhaps you do not quite understand all this about the railroad, and station, and train, and steam-engine; and how a carriage can be made to run along a road faster than a horse can gallop. And I am afraid that if I were to try to explain it all to my little girl, she would not be much the wiser. I think, too, that she would rather hear how her

father and brother got to the end of their journey. So I will go on with that part of the story, and leave it to mother to say anything else that she pleases about the railroad.

For some time after we left the station, the road was shut in between two very high banks, so that we could not see anything of the country through which we were passing. But after a short time, we got away from these banks, and then we had a fine view on either side of us. There were corn-fields, and meadows with cows and sheep in them; and there were hay-fields, with men and women making hay; and there was a river, too, with boats and barges sailing on it; and the sun shone so brightly, and everything looked so pleasant and happy, that we could not help feeling happy too. There was only one little thing which made the ride less pleasant to us than it could have been: it was the wind. This made us feel rather cold; and we were obliged to draw our cloaks round us to keep us warm, and to hold our hats with our hands, for fear they should be blown quite away. Indeed, George's strawhat did blow away before we got to our journey's end; but not while we were upon the railroad.

Presently we heard a very loud, shrill whistle; so loud and shrill that George put his hands to his ears to stop out the sound. Indeed it was not at all a pleasant sound,