yard stile, it seemed that blight had fallen on all things. No primroses were blooming now. An unusual stillness prevaded, and I sat listening to it. Suddenly it was broken by a sound that struck to my heart.

It was the sound of the funeral bell: deep, low, and full, it went tolling on.

I arose, and with slow and fearful step advanced towards the opposite side of the church, to the tombstone where I had parted with Nelly.

Near it was an open grave. Was it hers? Was it Nelly's grave? A strong presentiment told me that it was. And now over the gate through which I had seen her pass just a year ago, a coffin is being lifted.

It was Nelly's coffin; for close behind I recognised the two young mourners. Each of them grasped a hand of the Mother. And that Mother's face, oh! it was so sad, so very sad, and yet so expressive of pious resignation to the will of heaven.

Protected by the shelter of a tombstone, myself unseen, I could see all that passed.

Poor Nelly! I saw her lowered into her last home, I heard the sound of the earth as it fell against the coffin. I saw this world close over her for ever. The primroses came again, and Nelly was gone.

Charles.-Now, Aunt, you know you promised to take us to see the museum.

Lewis. And we've got a whole holiday, and it is such a beautiful day.

Aunt. I will get ready to go, with pleasure. You must make up your minds to a long walk, for the museum is at the other end of the town.

Fanny.-Oh, Aunt! I thought it was that handsome house in the market-place, with stone pillars in front. Aunt. No, it is in a quiet, neglected part of the town, which none of you have visited, I dare say.

Fanny. And who collected all the curiosities we are going to see, Aunt?

Aunt. Do you remember that quiet old gentleman we used to meet sometimes in our walks?

yes,

and he always turned

Lewis.-Oh! Uncle Cout of the way when he saw us. him!

I never could bear

If you

Aunt.-Hush, hush! you must not say so. ever grow to be old and a philosopher, you will know what it is to have a horror of noisy children, particularly if you have weak health, as this old gentleman had.

Lewis. Then I hope I shall never be a philosopher. Aunt. Should you not like to leave behind you a building to be called by your name, and be the means of instructing and pleasing generations of people after you were dead?

Charles.-Yes-but where did Uncle C—, find the curious things we are going to see?

Aunt. He was not always a shy, eccentric, old gentleman-when he was young he travelled into many countries, and brought back various wonderful things, but the chief wonders were found within a few miles of the town.

Fanny.-Indeed, Aunt! I never saw any wonders about here, and we've taken all the walks over and over again.

Aunt. Very true-but I think you have lately found out a few wonders you little thought were so near to you. Fanny. O yes! the Cornu Ammonis and the curious shells. But we should never have found them out by ourselves.

Aunt.-Probably not. But you must learn to see them yourselves. You cannot always have some one at your elbow to tell you when to open your eyes. Every stone and flower has a wondrous tale to tell you, if you know how to listen, but they must be spoken to before they will speak to you. But we are coming to the

museum.

Charles. In this quiet old street? what queer dull houses!

Aunt. And yet, though it is so neglected now, this was once the fashionable end of the town. And gay cavaliers, and ladies in ruffs and satins used to sit at these squalid windows. One of the grandest and gayest

noblemen of Queen Elizabeth's time, once lived at this old mansion, which is now the museum.

Charles.-Ah! this is splendid-suits of armour! flags spears! bows and arrows! stags' horns!

Aunt. This is the ball where the gay nobleman used to hold his banquets, but nothing is left that belonged to him, but these empty helmets, and his crest, in coloured glass, in the middle of the window, you see. Now we will go up stairs, and look at something much older even than this ancient house. This room contains the wonderful things found in our own neighbourhood, some from the quarry we visited the other day. I told you I would show you one of the living inhabitants of that ancient world, and here he is.

Charles. Why, it is nothing but a lot of bones. Aunt. It is a skeleton. The flesh has long disappeared; but do you see here are his teeth, his back-bone, and large thigh bone? Those who understand the structure of the animals that exist now, tell us, with the greatest certainty, that this creature was much larger than an elephant, and fed on the ferns and palin-trees that abounded in those ancient forests.

Charles. What was the name of the creature, Aunt? Aunt.-There was no one to name it, for it lived ages before Adam, you know.

Fanny. That must have been a happy time for the beasts, Aunt, when there was nobody to catch and torment them.

Aunt.-Indeed it was- -for God took care of them, and gave them all they were capable of enjoying. They had quiet seas to swim in, and banks of mud to lie upon, and rich, pathless forcsts, full of the food they enjoyed. Look at this creature with a neck longer than its body; this was a flying lizard.

Charles. It must have been a stranger creature than any we saw at the Zoological Gardens.

Aunt.-Yes. These animals are extinct-there are none exactly like them on the face of the earth, but they show quite as much of God's power and contrivance as those which are living now. Look at this fellow's jaws; it is all that has been found of him, but observe what a large socket, where his eye has been. That eye

was shaped as curiously, and arranged with as much art as our own eyes.

Charles.-I am sure his teeth were as sharp as any crocodile's. Do you think they used to fight and tear each other to pieces?

Aunt.—That I cannot say. As they were most of them herbaceous, or feeding on herbs, I would fain hope that they lived in peace and concord; but yet in the stomach of this creature you see the remains of a fish he has been devouring; this shows that animals lived upon each other as they do now.

Lewis.-How is it that these bones are imbedded in

stone?

Aunt.-Because the mud they were buried in has gradually turned to stone, like the chalk which I told you was once water. All the wonderful changes that have taken place on the face of the earth, have been caused by the action of water or fire. Those I have shown you are the effect of water; now I will show you some of the wonders of fire, and like the rest of the world you will no doubt say, he is the greater magician of the two.

Charles. Look, look! Here's a real piece of gold from Australia.

Fanny. And a real diamond! and such lovely stones! These are worth coming to see!

Lewis. And were these beautiful things made by fire? And where did the fire come from?

Aunt. Do you recollect that I told you there were three kinds of rocks, Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary? Now these brilliant substances are found chiefly between the Primary and the Secondary, and we infer from their appearance that they have been partly melted by some intense heat, and that the precious metal has found its way into the veins of the rock nearest to it. Look at this vein of gold, running through a pièce of quartz rock, that could only be broken by the blow of a hammer.

Charles.-I have read about quartz-crushing in Australia. That is to get the gold out of the rock, I

suppose.

Aunt-Yes; sometimes it is found in a large lump, and called a nugget, and often in such a shape that

it is evident it must have been molten some time or other. As to where the fire came from I could not venture to say. All we know about it is that the lower we dig into the earth the hotter it is; and has not the earth huge fires, that are lighted up occasionally? Fanny. O yes! I know. Volcanoes you mean! Aunt.-Yes; and they remind us that beneath us there must be a vast magazine of fiery substances, which find vent in volcanoes and earthquakes.

Charles. That's not at all a comfortable thought! for it might break through any day.

Aunt. Certainly. But hitherto we have been spared in this our favoured little Island; while in Italy, only last year, thousands of persons were killed by earthquakes. Remember we live by God's assistance every moment, and our lives are in His hand. He holds in check those mighty powers that we call "the elements." They can destroy us at any moment, though we are permitted to control them in some degree.

Charles. If I had been Uncle C, I would have had that gold made into sovereigns.

Aunt. Then we should not have had the pleasure of seeing it. I hope, when you are older you will, like him, think less of gold, and more of the good use you may make of it.

Lewis. But he might have given it to some charity, you know, Aunt.

Aunt. True, and it is indeed putting gold to a good use to provide for the necessities of others; but it is still better perhaps, to provide for the instruction and amusement of their minds.

Charles. But looking at a museum would never make a poor man less hungry.

Aunt I don't know that! Many a poor man who has left England to dig for gold, would have got on much better if he had looked at a museum, and found out where he was most likely to find the gold he was going to seek. It was superior knowledge that enabled a geologist in England to point out the spot where gold was most likely to be found in Australia, and which induced people to look for it. So you see knowledge is better than gold.