south; delicious in their native soil, but rendered vapid by transportation.” * * * * * Mr. Vernon chose the site for his new dwelling with characteristic taste. It stood on an eminence, commanding a most lovely and extensive prospect. A flower-enamelled lawn, rich as embroidered velvet, and ornamented with graceful trees, descended from the front of the house to a bend in the river. It was all fresh from the hand of Nature. Nothing had been planted, and nothing removed, except a few trees to make room for a carriage-path. He had been advised to build an English villa; but he disliked the appearance of assuming a style of more grandeur than his neighbours; and Sibella thought a log-house, with its rough edges of bark, would harmonize better with the scenery. It was spacious and conveniently planned, and stood in the midst of a natural grove. Festoons of vines were trained all round it, clustering roses climbed up even to the roof, and the air was fragrant with Eglantines. The arbor, that William had made, was carefully removed thither, and placed in the garden, surrounded by a profusion of Ladies’ Delights, in memory of the lost friend. It was a fixed principle with Mr. Vernon that no man had a right to live in the world without doing his share of its work. He imported seeds and scions, which he planted and grafted himself, always distributing a liberal portion among his neighbours. “My fruit and vegetables will soon command a ready sale in the city market,” said he; “but the proceeds shall go toward a school-fund, and the establishment of a Lyceum. I do not desire that our children should inherit great wealth. Life sufficiently abounds with dangers and temptations, physical and mental, without adding _that_ glittering snare for their manhood and womanhood. The wisest and kindest thing we can do for them is to educate equally themselves and the people among whom they are to live.” “There spoke the same generous soul that chose the poor country-girl for a wife!” she exclaimed, “What can I ever do to prove the gratitude I feel?” Playfully he put his hand over her mouth, to stop that self-depreciation. They remained silent for a while, seated on the grassy slope, looking out upon the winding river and the noble trees. “How much this scene resembles the parks and lawns of old England,” said the happy bride. “If it were not for the deep stillness, and the absence of human habitations, I could almost imagine myself in my native land.” “I like it better than English parks and lawns, for two reasons,” he replied. “I prefer it, because it is formed by Nature, and not by Art; and Nature gives even to her quietest pictures peculiar touches of wild inimitable grace. Still more does the scene please me, because these broad acres are not entailed upon noblemen, who cannot ride over their estates in a week, while their poor tenantry toil through life without being allowed to obtain possession of a rood of land.”