brother trying to save his little sister and brother, puts me in mind of One who calls himself our elder Brother. Does George know who this is?

G. No, uncle.

U. Jesus Christ, God's own Son, is sometimes called our elder Brother; and you know what he did to save us. He did not fear to suffer, and to die. But then he was powerful to save. The young man that your father has told us about, though he tried hard to save his little sister and brother, could not do so, although he lost his own life.

But Jesus did save his younger brethren by dying for them; and, if we ask to be numbered among his younger brethren, he will save us; for "he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him."

pre

All the rest of the walk, George was very thoughtful. Perhaps he was thinking of the accidents that had been spoken of; or he might be thinking whether he should be pared for heaven, if he were to be taken away from this world by sudden death. Will the young reader think of this, too; and, before he goes on to the next chapter, ask,

-Am I

Prepared, if I this hour should die ?"

CHAPTER VIII.

TWO LETTERS.

MY DEAR MOTHER,

I was glad when father told me this morning that he had heard from you, and that you and my sisters are well. I am very happy here; but I wish you were here too, then I should not wish to go back again for a very long time.

I have been in the pond where father used to bathe when he was a boy; and I have seen the mills where gunpowder is made.

We have been to see uncle Henry; and we saw a great number of water-rats as we came back, and an adder; but the adder did not bite us.

This afternoon we began to take a long walk; but when we got part of the way, it began to rain very hard, and we were wet through before we got home again. I call grandfather's house home, now I am here. It thundered very loud, too, and lightened very much. Father thinks it has done good; but I did not like to hear the thunder.

I do not know when we shall return home; but I hope you will write a letter to me soon -to me myself, I mean.

I am, your affectionate son,
GEORGE HARDY.

MY DEAR LITtle Daughter,

Your mother tells me that you were pleased with the letter which I sent you last week, and that you would like to have another. Well, I have a little time to spare this evening, and I will write to you.

But what shall I begin to tell you? If I were to tell you all that we have seen and heard, and all that we have done, since we left home, you would, I think, be almost tired of hearing it. Besides, I could not recollect it all; and if I could, I do not know that it would be worth telling. Let me, then, say something about yesterday and to-day.

Yesterday, we went to see your uncle Henry. He lives, as I think you know, three or four miles from your grandfather's house. It is a pleasant walk; and as we did not wish to hurry over it, we set out very soon after breakfast.

The first part of our walk was through some meadows, in which were cows and sheep nibbling the grass. Then we passed through some corn-fields, and, after these, through a hop-garden. You have never seen a hop-garden, for where you live, hops are not grown. But I think you have seen a bunch of hops; for I remember, that when one of our friends came to see us last year, he brought with him a fine bunch of hops, which he had gathered a long way off.

And this bunch of hops was placed on the parlour mantle-piece, and remained there some time.

You also know how the scarlet-runner beans grow in our own garden: that they have long twisting stems and branches, upon which grow the leaves and blossoms. You know, also, that when the shoots are only a little way out of the ground, we put long sticks into the earth, upright, and very near to the shoots; and that these shoots or stems soon begin to twist and curl round and round the sticks, until the tops of them are quite beyond the reach of a little girl like you, and sometimes almost beyond your father's reach.

Well, then, if you can fancy a large field or garden, full of scarlet-runner beans with their sticks, planted on little hills, four sticks and plants on a hill, with room for walking between every hill, you will know what a hop-garden looks like.

This is not a very exact description of a hop-garden; for the hop stems or bines are much stronger and larger than the stems of the beans, and the leaves are much larger, and of a different shape, and darker colour. The poles, too, which the hops climb upon, are much larger and taller than the sticks we use for the beans; and the blossom of the hops is very different from the blossom of the beans. But for all these differences, and

others, which I do not now mention, you may fancy yourself with your brother and father in the hop-garden.

Do you know what hops are used for? They are used in making beer and porter. They have a strong bitter taste; and they help to keep the beer from becoming sour. But we did not stay all the morning in the hop-garden; and I will not keep you there any longer.

In passing through a meadow, after we left the hop-garden, George saw something running in the grass just under his feet. He put his hand down quickly, and caught it. What do you think it was? It was a little mouse, or something very much like a mouse, though the proper name is a shrew. It was not so large as a common mouse, and was darker in colour. It had a long nose, like the nose of a mole-you recollect that you once saw a mole-and its eyes were very small, so small that we could not at first see them. I fancy that shrews have not very quick sight, and that this was the reason why your brother so easily caught this one. The poor little animal did not much like being handled, though I do not think we hurt it; and so, when we had looked at it, we let it go again. George wished to know if this shrew would not be mischievous to the farmers; but I believe it will not do any harm. Shrews live upon insects and grubs which they find in