some favourite air. The dual occupation of the brain had always the best results in the quick development of the constructive faculty. And even in circumstances where whistling is not allowed I can think airs, and enjoy them almost as much as when they are distinctly audible. This power of the brain, I am fain to believe, indicates the natural existence of the true musical faculty. But I had been so busy during the course of my life that I had never any opportunity of learning the practical use of any musical instrument. And here I must leave this interesting subject.

    So soon as I was in due possession of my house, I had speedily transported thither all my art treasures -- my telescopes, my home stock of tools, the instruments of my own construction, made from the very beginning of my career as a mechanic, and associated with the most interesting and active parts of my life. I lovingly treasured them, and gave them an honoured place in the workshop which I added to my residence. There they are now, and I often spend a busy and delightful hour in handling my tools. It is curious how the mere sight of such objects brings back to the memory bygone incidents and recollections. Friends long dead seem to start up while looking at them. You almost feel as if you could converse with the departed. I do not know of anything so touchingly powerful in vividly bringing back the treasured incidents and memories of one's life as the sight of such humble objects. Every one has, no doubt, a treasured store of such material records of a well-remembered portion of his past life. These strike, as it were, the keynote to thoughts that bring back in vivid form the most cherished remembrances of our lives. On many occasions I have seen at sale rooms long treasured hoards of such objects thrown together in a heap as mere rubbish. And yet these had been to some the sources of many pleasant thoughts and recollections, But the last final break-up has come, and the personal belongings of some departed kind heart are scattered far and wide. These touching relics of a long life, which had almost become part of himself, are "knocked down" to the lowest class of bidders. It is a sad sight to witness the uncared for dispersion of such objects -- objects that had been lovingly stored up as the most valued of personal treasures. I could have wished that, as was the practice in remote antiquity, such touching relics were buried with the dead, as their most fitting repository. Then they might have left some record, instead of being desecrated by the harpies who wait at sales for such "job lots."

    Behold us, then, settled down at Hammerfield for life. We had plenty to do. My workshop was fully equipped. My hobbies were there, and I could work them to my heart's content. The walls of our various rooms were soon hung with pictures, and other works of art, suggestive of many pleasant associations of former days. Our library book-case was crowded with old friends, in the shape of books that had been read and re-read many times, until they had become almost part of ourselves. Old Lancashire friends made their way to us when "up in town," and expressed themselves delighted with our pleasant house and its beautiful surroundings.

    The continuous planting of the shrubs and trees gave us great pleasure. Those already planted had grown luxuriantly, fed by the fertile soil and the pure air. Indeed, in course of time they required the judicious use of the axe in order to allow the fittest to survive and grow at their own free will. Trees contrive to manage their own affairs without the necessity of much labour or interference. The "survival of the fittest" prevails here as elsewhere. It is always a pleasure to watch them. There are many ordinary old-fashioned roadside flowering plants which I esteem for their vigorous beauty, and I enjoy seeing them assume the careless grace of Nature.

    The greenhouse is also a source of pleasure, especially to my dear wife. It is full of flowers of all kinds, of which she is devotedly fond. They supply her with subjects for her brush or her needle. She both paints them and works them by her needle in beautiful forms and groups. This is one of her many favourite hobbies. All this is suitable to our fireside employments, and makes the days and the evenings pass pleasantly away.

  By PanEris using Melati.

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