he always got on very badly. He wished his garden to be different from his brothers', and thought, too, that it would be a great deal better; but in this he was mistaken, as we shall see. So, when he got to the store, he would not buy any of the same sorts as his brothers did, except some radishes, and a little mustard and cress. He did not know what to buy; but he looked at the list, and the only names he knew were cabbages, turnips, carrots, beetroot, scarletrunners, kidney-beans, and peas; so he bought some of each of these, and also some sunflower seed; and then, having a little money left, and seeing some walnuts on the counter, he spent the rest of his money on them. When he reached home, he found his brothers had nearly finished sowing their seeds; and as he did not want them to know what kinds he had bought, he put his hurriedly into the ground, without labels to any of them, and then scattered the radish-seed on the top, without taking the trouble to rake it into the ground.

Next morning George and James were early at their gardens, half expecting to find that their seeds had made a start during the night. Charles, however, stayed in the house; and soon James came running back and called out, "Charles, you had better come and rake your radish-bed; we have just frightened off a whole flock of birds." Charles immediately ran down in great dismay, and found the report was but too true. The birds had made a hearty meal on his radish-seeds, and scarcely one of them was left. In the other gardens they had done no mischief, for there the seeds, being covered with earth, were hidden from their sight. This was his first disappointment, and there were plenty more in store for him. But I must pass on now to the summer time, and tell you garden looked then.

how each boy's

In the month of December, when gardens are generally most showy, George's plot of ground was as bright and gay as any one could wish a garden to be. The only fault, perhaps, was that the plants were too close together; but this he remedied to a great degree by cutting flowers from the thickest parts, and taking a nosegay into the house, almost every morning. As soon, too, as the nemophilas had done flowering, he pulled up their stalks, and so left more room for the later flowers. In short, his garden looked very well till the beginning of May; and even then there were some flowers to be seen. James managed his garden nearly as well, but being younger than his brother, he was not so wise in everything. He took it into his head several times, that some of his plants would look better in other places than those in which he had first set them; so he transplanted them, when they were in flower; and the consequence was, that they withered and died. His garden, however, was, on the whole, very pretty; and he was able to cut a great many good nosegays too. But you would have been amused to see Charles's garden at the same season. The only flower-seeds he had bought were sunflowers, and these stood in a single row all across his garden, and so close together, that they could not spread out and grow to their natural size, but shot up with weak thin stems, and very poor small flowers. The vegetable seeds which he had sown came up in one tangled mass, and choked one another, so that they could not grow at all; and not one of his walnuts came up, for they were too old for sowing, and only sold to be eaten. I hope, however, though he got so little from his garden, that he learnt to be more sociable and wise for the future, and to listen to good advice, and join in the occupations, amusements, and pleasures of his brothers and other friends, and

to give up thinking that he always knew better than any one else could do.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

THE stately homes of England,

How beautiful they stand!

Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land!

The deer across their greensward bound,

Through shade and sunny gleam;

And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!

Around their hearths by night,

What gladsome looks of household love

Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childhood's tale is told;

Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.

The cottage homes of England!

By thousands on her plains,

They are smiling o'er the silv'ry brook,

And round the hamlet-fanes;

Through glowing orchards forth they peep,

Each from its nook of leaves;

And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free fair homes of England!
Long, long in hut and hall,

May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall.

And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God.

PAPER.

WHAT a useful substance paper is! Without it we should have no books, or newspapers, or letters, or copybooks to write in. I am going to tell you how it is made. Most of it is made from rags of linen, or of cotton, which have once been worn as clothes, but which, when worn out, are sold to the rag-merchant, who sells them again to the manufacturer of paper. These rags have first to be

well washed, to get rid of all the dirt, and then they must be bleached, to get rid of their colours, if they are not white. Next they are taken to the paper-mill, in which they are torn to pieces by sharp iron teeth, and at last brought into the state of a very white, soft, thin pulp. To improve the colour, a little smalt is then put in, which gives a bluish tinge; and if the paper is intended for printing, the pulp is often mixed with a kind of glue, made from skins and horns, called size-though writing-paper is not sized before it is made into sheets-and starch too is sometimes used, mixed with other substances. Without this size the paper would not bear the ink, but the ink would run upon it, as it does upon blotting-paper, which never has any size.

R. Oh! I went, sir, to Broom-heath, and so round by the windmill upon Camp-mount, and then home through the meadows by the river side.

Mr A. And a very pleasant walk, too!

R. I thought it very dull, sir, for I scarcely met a single person. I would much sooner have gone along the turn

pike road.

Mr A. Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you would no doubt see more of them on the high-road. But did you see anything of William ?

R. Yes; we set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I walked on and left him.

Mr A. Well, that was a pity, for he would have been company for you.

R. Oh, he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this thing and that; I had rather walk alone. I daresay he is not come home yet.

Mr A. No; but here he comes. Well, William, tell me where you have been.

W. Oh, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broomheath, and so up to the windmill at the hill-top, and then down among the green meadows by the side of the river.

Mr A. Why, that is the same round that Robert has been taking, and he complains that it was very dull, and says he would prefer the high-road.

W. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step that did not delight me, and I have brought home my pocket-handkerchief full of curiosities.

Mr A. Suppose, then, you give us some account of what amused you so much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert

as to me.

W. I will, sir. The lane leading to the heath, you know,