Return to the Flats. SUMMER came, and with it visitors, as usual, to madame, from New-York and other places; among whom, I remember, were her nieces, Mrs. L. and Mrs. C. I went to the Flats, and was, as usual, kept very close to my needle-work; but though there was no variety to amuse me, summer slid by very fast. My mind was continually occupied with aunt, and all the passages of her life. My greatest pleasure was to read over again the books I had read to her, and recollect her observations upon them. I often got up and went out to the door to look at places where particular things had happened. She spent the winter’s nights in retrospections of her past life; and I spent the summer days in retrospections of these winter nights. But these were not my only pleasures. The banks of the river and the opposite scenery delighted me; and, adopting all aunt’s tastes and attachments, I made myself believe I was very fond of Pedrom and Susannah Muet, as the widow of Jeremiah was called. My attention to them excited their kindness; and the borrowed sentiment, on my part, soon became a real one. These old friends were very amusing. But then I had numberless young friends, who shared my attention, and were, in their own way, very amusing too. These were the objects of my earliest cares in the morning, and my needless solicitude all day. I had marked down in a list between thirty and forty nests of various kinds of birds. It was an extreme dry summer, and I saw the parent birds, whom I diligently watched, often panting with heat, and, as I thought, fatigued. After all I had heard and seen of aunt, I thought it incumbent on me to be good and kind to some being that needed my assistance. To my fellow-creatures, my power did not extend; therefore I wisely resolved to adapt my mode of beneficence to the sphere of action assigned to me, and decided upon the judicious scheme of assisting all these birds to feed their young. My confederate Marian, (our negro girl,) entered heartily into this plan; and it was the business of the morning, before tasks commenced, to slaughter innumerable insects, and gather quantities of cherries and other fruit for that purpose. Portions of this provision we laid beside every nest, and then applauded ourselves for saving the poor birds fatigue. This, from a pursuit, became a passion. Every spare moment was devoted to it, and every hour made new discoveries of the nature and habits of our winged friends, which we considered as amply recompensing our labours.