Lewis and Helen followed Mr. Ashton into a large room, in which many boys were occupied: they were seated in rows, one behind the other, and were employed in writing on slates the words which the monitors, from time to time, dictated. Lewis’s father had brought some books for the use of the institution; and while he was engaged in speaking to the master, the children watched with surprise, the uniform, regular movement of so many hands, when the head monitor told them to turn, show, or clean their slates. Lewis was afraid of interrupting the order, by asking for his little friend; but he gave him a nod of approbation as he passed him on their way out. “We will just go through the girls’ school-room,” said Mr. Ashton, “which is of the same dimensions as the boys’.—I am sorry we cannot now stay to see the mode of instructing the children: every thing appears to be in excellent order.” “Yes, sir,” said the master, bowing to his visitor, “system, is every thing in a large school, such as this.” “Very true, my good friend,” returned Mr. Ashton, smiling good-humouredly; “only we must remember, that children are not mere machines; and that the education we give them should be such as to render them intelligent and useful members of society.” CHAPTER IX. When the little party reached home, they found Mrs. Ashton and Edward waiting to receive them. The sun was shining brightly; and, indeed, all appearance of rain had vanished, and an open carriage was at the door. The children’s eyes sparkled with delight as the driver assisted them to get into it; then came a large basket, which must be accommodated with a place; papa’s telescope, mamma’s travelling-cloak, more clothing for the children, and lastly, papa and mamma themselves. “Now we are off!” cried Lewis. “Papa, have you told the man which way we are to go?” His father nodded assent. “Edward,” said Helen, “you look very knowing; I do believe you are in the secret.” “Oh! it is no secret now,” Edward said: “we are on the road to the Dyke, and I have been helping mamma this morning to prepare for the trip; only I would not talk about it, for fear the weather should disappoint you.” “I will try to bear disappointments better,” said Lewis, who had not forgotten the incident of the morning; “and then papa and mamma will not be afraid of letting me know their plans.” “Well,” interrupted Helen, “I must say I like excursions better when they are quite unexpected, as this was.” “So do not I,” said Edward, “there is a great deal of enjoyment in thinking of, and preparing for, them beforehand.” “Then,” said his father, “it seems you and Helen are both satisfied; but there is one pleasure still which may belong to us all; and you seem quite to have forgotten it.” “Oh! papa,” cried Lewis, “you mean the pleasure of retrospection: every one likes the pleasures of retrospection.”