upper room, and were so quiet and diligent, that the presence of no grandmother in the world could have frightened us.

The next morning we were awakened early by the rooks in the trees, close by our windows, and we rose and went out for a ramble before breakfast.

Within the grounds, which were laid out partly in grass and flowers, and partly in shrubbery, there was a walled fruit garden; and this we were only permitted to enter on the express understanding, that we were on no pretence to gather, or to pick up, or to touch any of the fruit. "Not so much (so "sister" phrased it) as a fallen gooseberry."

Fruit was always given to us once during the day; but the father of the family was extremely particular about his trees, and suffered no fruit to be gathered, but by his own hand.

I was told of this regulation at once by the children, and when Lucy said to her sister, "Did thee know that Sophia had leave to gather fruit at home;" and I exclaimed, that I did not wish to do it here, and was very happy; she answered with her usual sweet composure, "Thee need not blush so much, I know thou art in general a reasonable child."

"I don't wish for anything" I explained, "that Lucy does not have."

"That's well," she replied, "we desire to see thee happy and satisfied; but thou knowest that my father considers thee under his authority while thou art here, and will not alter his rule for thy sake; but as thou hast been used to gather fruit for thyself, I advise thee not to go into the fruit garden, if thou are tempted to transgress. There are other walks where thou canst bowl thy hoop."

"I wonder you should suppose such a thing,” I interrupted, quite vexed at her plain speaking, and the implied supposition that I could be tempted to such a greedy and disobedient act.

She smiled at my speech, but there was nothing sarcastic in the smile; and she answered, "I do not suppose thee to be any better than thy first mother; yet, she was tempted with an apple." "And apples are not half so good as plums," observed one of the little brothers, sagely nodding his head.

"No one asked for thy opinion," said my champion Lucy, in a low voice; "does thee wish Sophia to be kept out of the garden ?"

Sister cut the conference short, by giving us each a piece of seed cake, and sending us out with general directions to be good, and not get into mischief; and there was such ample space to play in, and we had so many means of amusing ourselves, that we should have been more culpable than most children, if we had disobeyed them.

The garden with all its walks, the orchard where we sometimes sauntered early in the morning, and saw the greengages which had fallen in the night lying among the dewy grass; the rough trunks of the plum trees all grey with lichen, and blue above with partly ripe fruit, are vividly impressed upon my recollections; as well as the frames on which, in the middle of the day, we sometimes laid our hands to feel how hot the glass was; peeping through at the long cucumbers and plump melons, as they lay basking in the moist heat; or following the gardener when he walked round with his tiles, and laid them carefully under those which he wished to ripen first.

I also remember, as if it had happened but yesterday, how we used to run to meet Lucy's placid father, as he came leisurely down the grass walk, to have his daily colloquy with the gardener, how he gathered and stored the ripe pears from the espaliers, and lifted up the leaves from the wall fruit to see how it was coming on, how he would lament that birds should be such arrant thieves, and turn a deaf ear to the old gardener, when he muttered that there was but one way to cure them of it.

Then I remember the cool fruit-house, into which we sometimes helped him to carry summer apples; and what the gardener called the "kippen peers; but above all, I remember a certain fine young apricot-tree, a moor park, in its first year of bearing, and how every day we went to count and admire upon it six beautiful apricots, and no more.

Few things in a garden are more beautiful than ripening apricots; the downy surface, the rich golden colour, speckled as in this sort, with clear red spots, and surrounded by pointed leaves of most glossy green, the broad sunshine that bathed them, the careful training; all combined to make us take a peculiar interest in this young tree, which had been the only survivor among several of the same sort that had been planted with it.

When we had walked all round with Lucy's father, he used to take up a flat straw-basket, lay some leaves of curly broccoli in it, and go with us to the orchard, where he would gather some ripe greengages, purple plums, jargonel-pears, with, perhaps, a few late white-heart cherries, and some little red apples, red to the very core. In the south wall of the garden there was a door, leading into a place they called the wilderness, it was an uncommonly well ordered wilderness, like everything about the premises. Through this door father used to proceed to a bench under the trees, where he caused us to sit down in a row while he divided the fruit equally among us.

There was no underwood in this delightful retreat, the trees composing it were elms, thickly boughed plants to shelter us from the sun, but not to prevent the elastic mossy grass from

flourishing underneath, nor to prevent the growth of numerous groups of large white lilies.

All the lilies in the garden had done flowering, but these more pure and more luxuriant, through shade and shelter were then in their full perfection, and filled the air with their delightful fragrance.

The children called them sister's lilies, because when she was a child she had planted them.

We generally brought pieces of bread with us to eat with our fruit, and the wilderness being our favourite retreat, we played there at all times in the day.

The lilies were taller than the younger children, who would stand on tip-toe to push their little fingers into the higher flowers, and bring them down covered with yellow pollen.

Unchanged themselves in their white purity, they were yet susceptible of apparent change from difference in the light cast upon them. When the full glare of high noon was upon the tops of the elms, then was cast through their leaves upon the lilies a faint tinge of most delicate green; but at sunset, we who lived so much among them, sometimes saw a pure glow of crimson reflected through the white petals, when the setting sun sent his level beams between the trunks of the trees. But I have said enough of these fragrant lilies, they are dead now and the hand that planted them.

As I before mentioned, after that successful Sunday, Lucy and I walked out in the garden early in the morning, and congratulated one another on our good behaviour, which we intended always to last, and firmly believed it always would; but we were growing careless and confident, and though the thought of the red curtain never failed to bring salutary feelings with it, there were times when we did not think of it at all, and in one of those times temptation came.

It was fine weather, and we expected some cousins of Lucy's to spend the day with us, and as we walked we planned how we would pass the time. Lucy confided to me that they would most likely be very noisy, and perhaps, rude; but thus, like two little self-righteous Pharisees, as we were on that particular, we decided to prevent if possible; certainly not to participate in; as Lucy said she often had done hitherto.

I believe we had not the least idea that our strength might fail us, and we made our arrangements with as much composure as if we ourselves were quite above the ordinary temptations of humanity.

The cousins arrived soon after breakfast, and the very first sight of them dissipated some of our ideas; they were older, had more assurance of manner than ourselves; but children under

stand each other so well that I perceived, even during the first half-hour, that they were amusing themselves at my expense; and taking notice of every word I uttered, as was evident by the glances which passed between them, though to outward appearance they were remarkably grave. I also observed that Lucy though so accustomed to see them, and though she talked of them so freely in their absence, was very much awed by them and very silent now.

When they escaped from the presence of their elders their manner suddenly changed; they had evidently not been brought up like ourselves, and their gravity and over submissiveness in the company of their Uncle, and their riotous behaviour in his absence had a very bad effect upon us all.

At first Lucy and I were all blushes and deference, but they soon laughed us out of that, and by means of a little well-applied ridicule brought us into such complete thraldom that, though we neither liked them nor enjoyed playing with them, we wished nothing so much as to stand well in their eyes, and to be, and to do, whatever they chose to dictate.

It is astonishing what mischief can be done in a day! two rough boys and one prim little girl, so upset our ideas of right and wrong, and frightened us out of propriety, that we were nearly as rude as themselves through false shame at appearing otherwise; we heard the father laughed at in his absence, and ridiculed for his peculiarity about the fruit, and we had nothing to say; we saw sister seeking for us in the shrubbery and eluded her, and had lost courage against their orders to come out of our hiding-place and shew ourselves. Yet these cousins kept us in high spirits, or rather in a state of considerable excitement; we spent the whole day with them in games of play, and went to bed at night thoroughly tired, and not at all inclined to talk together as usual.

At six o'clock the next morning we got up and went out into the garden, the excitement of the past day was still upon us, we were not at all like the children who had walked there previous to this visit.

It was a very sultry morning, the air was still; the dew was dried already from the grass. It wanted an hour yet to breakfast time, and as Lucy and I sauntered leisurely through the wilderness we discussed her cousins, blaming them very freely in their absence, though we had wanted courage to do it at the proper time.

We passed into the walled garden, and there the heat, for the time of day, was quite remarkable; we got under the shade of the wall and took off our bonnets to use by way of fans. Apples, pears, plums, lay thickly under the trees, the neighbourhood

of the frames was fragrant with the scent of the melons which seemed as if it might have been collecting there all night, for there was not the least waft of air to carry it away. We came to the little apricot tree, and stopped before it as usual; the six apricots were now quite ripe. Lucy was quite sure her father would gather them that day and hoped he would give one to us. We were just about to pass on when, O sad mischance! a ripe one fell heavily from the highest branch at our feet, and broke nearly in half with the force of the fall. It was not one of the six, we counted them and all were in their places, a tuft of spleenwort grew out of the wall just where it fell from; behind that and some leaves, this apricot must have ripened and been entirely concealed.

Before we knew what we were about, Lucy had picked it up and divided it. "Look," she said, "father does not know of this, and the wasps would spoil it before he came out, eat thy half and I will eat mine." She put it into my hand, and I immediately tasted it and ate it.

I cannot say that even in eating, that apricot was nice to the taste, it was imbittered by conscience. And hot as the morning Iwas it did not refresh me.

A short silence followed, we remained standing before the apricot-tree, then without looking each other in the face, we moved slowly to the door into the wilderness.

Broken rules and resolutions began to rush back into my recollection with shame, and repentance, and regret, till Lucy suddenly bursting into tears and exclaiming, "O, I am so sorry Sophia, I am so sorry, I gave it thee." I turned to look at her and saw in her hand the other half of the apricot. Her face was crimsoned through agitation, the cause of it was evident, when she added, that if I wished it she would now eat the other half, for as she had tempted me, I should not be alone in the punish

ment.

I was far from having any such wish, she had hesitated at the right moment; unhappy as I was, it would have been far from any relief to know she had as much cause for sorrow as myself. I asked her to give me the other half of the apricot, and we found a little space bare of grass at the foot of a lily, where we made a small hole and buried it and covered it down.

When we had done this Lucy appeared relieved, but as for me every moment increased my uneasiness; I wondered, I was astonished to think that for such a very paltry gratification I should have put my neck under such a yoke; either I must conceal this fault and be always in fear lest it should be discovered; or, I must confess it; confess to greediness, a fault children feel peculiar shame in, and not to my own father, but to a gentleman whose