Mrs. Bernard affectionately sympathised in their sorrow, and thinking a walk might in some measure divert their attention, proposed a visit to the old woman's cottage. Mr. Bernard had lost one of his under clerks, and intended taking Henry to supply his place, should he find him qualified for the situation. No proposition could have been more agreeable to the children, and with great alacrity they prepared to accompany their mother. It was, however, some time before they could recover their spirits, so as to enjoy their walk as usual. "Ah, mamma," said Ferdinand, "how very different things appear when we are happy, and when we are unhappy; this walk was so delightful last Monday! How much we did enjoy ourselves! Do you not remember it? You gave us that interesting account of the British _hirundines_. Edward enjoyed it with us, and we thought it so pleasant; and now I really do not think it a particularly cheerful walk, and, to tell you the truth, mamma, it appears to me very dull to-day, and yet I see no alteration in the prospect." _Mrs. B._ The alteration is in your own mind, my boy. Your present feelings must convince you, how important is the acquisition of that firmness of mind, which your father has so constantly endeavoured to inculcate, and which can alone enable you to bear, with fortitude, the _real_ evils you will have to encounter in after life. "_Real_ evils, mamma!" reiterated Ferdinand; "you do not then think this a real evil?" "Indeed, my dear, I do not," replied Mrs. Bernard; "on the contrary, I hope, to Edward it will prove a real good; and I am sure you are none of you so selfish as to wish to deprive him of any advantage, merely for the sake of your own gratification." "Selfish! Oh, no, mamma, indeed we are not selfish," cried all the children at once: "we will convince you we are not, for we will, this minute, leave off grieving for Edward's departure, and teach ourselves to rejoice, and wish him very happy." _Mrs. B._ You will do quite right, my dears; and now let us change the subject, for that is the best way to banish your regret. _Ferdinand_. I was very much amused yesterday, mamma, with reading the new book you gave me for a prize a little time ago. _Mrs. B._ Miss Edgworth's "Early Lessons," do you mean, my dear Ferdinand? "Yes, mamma: I was reading that part of Harry and Lucy, in which their father so clearly explains to them the expansibility of air, and the power of steam; and I thought this might, perhaps, account for a thing that has always puzzled me extremely, and that is, earthquakes. [Footnote: Another remark of the child before mentioned.] I was reading a description of one a few days ago, and feel very anxious to know what can occasion such dreadful convulsions in the bowels of the earth. Will you be so kind, mamma, as to tell me what is supposed to be the cause?"