"It scarcely required an atom of sagacity to foresee that, Fred," I replicd; "I have no doubt but Alfred has been better employed." "Ask him," said Fred, nothing abashed at my doubt of his sagacity; "ask him how many insects he has pondered over this evening? And whether he discovered any thing new in them? Whether they had any thing but bodies, heads, wings, eyes, legs, and all the et-ceteras that usually make up an insect? If he has, then he will not have been a wonder seeking in vain." "I shall ask him no impertinent question, Fred," I rejoined: "I shall meet him as a companion whose character I admire, and whose example I would imitate." "Bless me," interrupted Fred, as he gave his gold-headed cane a jerk rather than a twirl; "I should not wonder if you became an insect hunter and admirer; or, in other words, a wonder seeker." "I may," I replied laconically; and hastening forward grasped the hand of Alfred Rowland. "I am sorry, Alfred," I remarked, "that you did not join us this evening. As you did not reply to our invitation, we fully expected you, and were grieved to begin our game without you. We were all disappointed when we found that you did not come, and none more so than myself." "I really beg pardon most sincerely," rejoined Alfred, "for not having reached you before. But, to tell you the truth, I have been loitering on the road, looking at the works of creation. I started full half an hour before the time I had any occasion, in order to be at the lea at the hour named; but for all this, you see I have only reached you in time to walk home with you. But really you must excuse me: you know my habits. And, in truth, there is so much to admire in the works of creation, and so much to be daily discovered therein, that I almost wonder that I have reached you now. Shakespere has well said, that a contemplative mind finds ་ Tongues in trees-books in the running brooks, Creation contains miracles of wonders; and I have been amazed this evening at the thought, that the variety of beautiful objects that passed before my eyes all spring from nothing. It is, indeed, wonderful to observe by what a gradual progress the world of life advances. Some living creatures are only raised just above dead matter, others have only the senses of feeling and taste, others can likewise hear, some may also smell and have sight, but most of them are a considerable time before they are complete in their senses; and when they are complete, some animals appear to have them in greater perfection than others. Instinct also varies much in animals some have but little, while amongst others it rises till it becomes almost akin to reason. And how infinitely various are the features of the animal world. Really, when I ponder over the boundless variety of objects displayed in creation, I am lost in wonder and admiration. The whole universe may be con sidered as a museum of the natural works of God, and I pity those who pass them by unheeded." "But surely," interrupted Fred Sherbourne, twirling his gold-headed cane, "surely, Alfred, you don't mean to say that you can discover any thing new in creation every time you walk across the fields. A butterfly, for instance, can be but a butterfly to-morrow, the same as it is to-day." "It may be a butterfly only in name," rejoined Alfred Rowland; "but I look to more than the name of the insect. I look at the structure and the endless variety of colours which that insect presents to our view. The butterfly, Fred Sherbourne, is an object of wonder in the creation. You scarcely can find two alike; and in viewing the beauty of even the meanest among the tribe, I am at all times constrained to ask, with the poet Thomson,- 'Who can paint Like nature? Can imagination boast, "Hervey, in his Meditations, makes these sensible remarks:- The beauties of creation are far beyond the refinements of art, the pageantry of theatres, the glitterings of assemblies, or the ornaments of palaces. If we properly inspect the stately volume of the creation, every leaf is a wide plain, every line a flowing brook, and every period as a lofty mountain. In the works of creation we scarcely know which to admire most; their endless variety or their beautiful simplicity, and, above all, their perfect execution. All human performances the more they are scanned, the more imperfect they appear; but the works of nature have stood the test of the most minute investigation for near six thousand years, and appear more and more beautiful.' To me," continued Alfred, "creation is a perpetual feast; it is both cheering and delightful to meditate upon its wonders, and you will pardon me, my companions, when I say that I am never more happy than when I am thus employed. Creation affords a fund of pleasure to my imagination. And then how delightful it is sometimes to take a book, and, sitting on the moss-grown bank, to read it without distraction. These are the greatest pleasures of my life, and while I am pursuing what may appear a novel course to many of you, I have the satisfaction of feeling that I am preparing myself for usefulness in the world. I always keep this sentence in one of our old copy slips in mind: Youth is the season for improvement.' Some of the sentiments uttered by Alfred Rowland contained a very quiet reproof to most of his old companions, but I do not think any one felt it more keenly than did Fred Sherbourne. As I glanced my eye towards him, I perceived that he was touched to the quick, and I have no doubt that, if he had been of a quarrelsome disposition, he would have picked a quarrel with Alfred for treading, if I may so express it, "so hard upon his toes." For myself, I resolved to profit by it, and to follow Alfred's example more than I had ever done before. Hitherto, indeed, I had often accompanied Alfred in his solitary walks, but I now resolved to accompany him oftener. From that time, therefore, I became a close companion to Alfred Rowland. Evening after evening have we walked arm in arm far from the busy haunts of men, discoursing of the wonders of creation, and admiring the beauties it unfolded on every hand. Sometimes we would take our seats on the margin of the rippling stream, watching the fish as they glided along, or the various insects that were skimming on its surface. It was very rarely that we were interrupted in our employment; but occasionally our old companions would seek us out in our solitude, and compel us to join them in a ramble. "You are not going to occupy solitude alone always," they would say; "you shall have company sometimes, although you may not like it. If you do not come to us. we will come to you. And now," they would add jokingly, "what new wonder have you to point out to us this fine evening, Alfred? Surely you ought to show us some rare insect, or some rare blade of grass, or some rare specimen of a frog, or toad, or newt. Or perhaps you can bid us listen to some rare sound which we have not heard before. The cuckoo, perhaps, may have learnt another note since last spring, or the woodpigeon may have learnt to sing the song of the nightingale. It will be hard at all events if you cannot point out to us something new. You must recollect that you once said 'Nature was |