MR. and Mrs. Reed came out to see what Gill and the children were about. Mr. Reed was at home for the day, which was not a very frequent event, and it was quite a treat to him to leave all thought of his ledger behind him, and live for a few free hours amid the things of nature, that lead the mind to higher thoughts than are begotten by business speculations, and accounts. The parents stood a little aloof, and heard what Gill was talking about.

“We owe much to this intelligent Scotchman,” said Mrs. Reed. “He has taught the children so many things from this garden book, that would have lost half their interest if they had been printed upon paper.”

“Oh, yes, I like this sort of school very much,” said the father. “One never forgets the knowledge gained in this way; but I am glad that Ben and Sally are none the less diligent over the printed lessons, when you call them in to their studies.”

“They always apply themselves earnestly. I have no fault to find with them,” said mamma. “I have spoken to them so constantly of the mind as a talent given by God to be improved to his honor and glory, that I think they have a conscientious motive in their efforts to learn.”

“There are papa and mamma,” said Sally, espying the beloved ones.

The children ran to meet their guests, and to take them the round of the garden. They felt themselves to be host and hostess, and wished to do all honor to their distinguished visitors. The Elysian fields, with their beautiful meadows, and groves, and cloudless sky, and sweet music, and soft celestial light, could have been no more beautiful to the imagination than was the reality of Gill’s vegetable garden to these children, with the adjoining pasture where Brindle and Flash were serenely chewing the cud, and the late butterflies were flitting hither and thither, and the chirp of the cricket came pleasantly to the ear, and the warble of birds, making ready for their autumn flight, brought back the sense of the early spring.

The sky was blue and bright, and there was no chill in the air, and the grass was still green upon the earth, and the leaves upon the trees had not changed to russet and crimson and gold.

There was so much to exhibit. Mr. Reed had to examine with eye and hand the garden growth, and then Gill was left to pull alone at the parsnips for a while, and the little people took their guests into the meadow to stroke the glossy red cows, and to take in the sweet milky breath, that mamma loved so, and thought so healthful.

Brindle was gentle as a lamb, and held her face close to her mistress, and looked at her with her great pensive eyes, and rubbed her nose against Sally’s face, and stood patient and loving, for the caresses that she seemed to prize.

Flash, a little younger and more antic, frisked about for a few minutes, but came at last to a stand-still beside Mr. Reed, and allowed him to, lead her by the horn, as if she were a docile child. Ben and Sally were as pleased as though they were responsible for her courteous behaviour, and they knew something “how a father and mother must feel when their children do them justice by correct and polite manners. Sally praised Flash when she had a sly chance, and Ben and her parents were engrossed by something else. .

“I’m just as proud of you as can be,” said she, giving the cow a good hug, and patting her head gently. “I was afraid you were going to forget, yourself altogether; but you came to your senses in time to show a proper breeding to my company,—that’s a good Flash. Now go on chewing your cud, and think how happy you have made me.”

Original

Flash seemed to be whispering it all to Brindle just after. They had their heads close together, and were as cosy and loving as could be; and they looked around now and then at the party in the distance, as if they were sorry ever to lose such kind and appreciative friends from view.

Mr. and Mrs. Reed lingered under an old apple-tree where the market-cart was standing. Gill had brought it there the night before, thinking to gather the apples to-day. Above it the branches spread out with a wealth of ruddy fruit.

“Let us rest here for awhile,” said mamma. “It is so pleasant.”

Papa helped her up into the cart, and got in beside her; and the children followed, and all sat upon the edge, as humble as the little turkeys that aspired to the topmost bough of the tree, yet were content with their lowly position. The turkeys had been exalted long before now, and sat every night on their lofty perch, with the heavens and the stars nearer. I suppose that always happens when one humbles himself, and then is lifted up,—the glory comes surely closer to him.

But about my little party in the meadow! Was there ever such pleasure to the children? To see papa and mamma sitting with them on the edge of the cart, as happy and contented as if it were a throne!

That is the beauty of older companionship,—when grown people can come down to the tiny level, and really enjoy the descent.

“You look about as young as Sally,” said Mr. Reed, observing the fresh color in his wife’s cheeks, and the sparkle in her eye.

“It is rejuvenating to be out here with the children,” returned she.

“What is that, mamma?” asked Sally.

To be made youthful again. I feel quite like a little child. That is the way we should always feel in spirit, though I do not know that I should care to go back bodily to my little girlhood,—I have such a happy home, and such a dear husband, and such good, loving children!

Papa and the little people looked as if they felt this compliment very precious, and they could not help giving mamma a kiss under the shadow of the old apple-tree. But those were not the only caresses that the green leaves had been witness to; for months ago, in the bright springtime, there was such a happy family in the robin’s nest, and often and often the father and the young brood had kissed the mother-bird, as they told each other how blest a tie it was that bound them, and how perfectly contented they were in their sweet and hallowed relationships.

The breeze rustled the green leaves to-day and made a soft melody, and the red fruit spoke out in praises of the sun and the rain and the air, that had helped it to grow up from its babyhood to a ripe and mellow age. So many voices all about if one could but hear them!

Mamma sat thoughtful, listening. She always had an ear for every sound in nature; and what was said reached down deep into her soul, and made it very thankful,—thankful to him who gives such beauty to the earth, and promises still better things in heaven to those who love him and strive to keep his commandments.

“Can we not sing something?” asked papa. “I wish we could have a little music out here in the open air. It is so delightful to hear singing when there is no ceiling to deaden the sound.”

Mamma spoke to the children, and then all burst forth in that beautiful anthem:—

“The strain upraise, of joy and praise, Alleluia!

To the glory of their King

Shall the ransomed people sing, Alleluia!

And the choirs that dwell on high

Shall re-echo through the sky, Alleluia! Alleluia!

They in the rest of paradise who dwell,

The blessed ones with joy the chorus swell, Alleluia!

The planets beaming on their heavenly way,

The shining constellations join and say, Alleluia!

Ye clouds that onward sweep, ye winds on pinions light,

Ye thunders echoing loud and deep, ye lightnings

wildly bright,

In sweet consent unite you, Alleluia!

Ye floods and ocean billows, ye storms and winter

snow,

Ye days of cloudless beauty, hoar frost and summer

glow,

Ye groves that wave in spring, and glorious forests, sing,

Alleluia!

First let the birds, with painted plumage gay,

Exalt their great Creator’s praise and say, Alleluia!

Then let the beasts of earth, with varying strain,

Join in creation’s ‘hymn, and cry again, Alleluia!

Here let the mountains thunder forth sonorous, Allelluia

There let the valleys sing in gentle chorus, Alleluia!

Thou jubilant abyss of ocean, cry, Alleluia!

Ye tracts of earth, and continents, reply, Alleluia

To God who all creation made,

The frequent hymn be duly paid, Alleluia!

This is the strain, the eternal strain the Almighty loves,

Alleluia!

This is the song, the heavenly song, that Christ the King

approves, Alleluia!

Wherefore we sing both heart and voice awaking, Alleluia!

And children voices echo, answer making, Alleluia to

the Lord!

With Alleluia evermore,

The Son and Spirit we adore.

Praise be done to the Three in One,

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Amen!”

How sweet the anthem was as it floated over the meadow and upward toward God! The cows stood quietly listening; and Gill stopped his work to hear the strain, and Lucy came to the kitchen door with Jack in her arms, and Dobbin pricked up his ears and forgot his hay, and the birds joined the concert, and the crickets chimed in with their cheerful notes,—and, really, the old market-cart standing under the apple-tree with, the thills resting upon the bar of the fence, seemed almost like a church, with the blue and crimson and green overhead, and the worshipers swelling out this hymn of praise to the great Creator.

“It sounds so very sweet,” said little Sally. “Mamma sings like an angel, I should think.”

Mamma put her hand on the child’s head. “We must all try and learn the angel’s song,—Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” she said.