O74 TWENTIETH EVENING,

EYES, AND NO EYES;
OR, THE ART OF SEEING,

“ Watu, Robert, whither have you been walking this
nfternoon ?”? said Mr. Andrews to one of his pupils at
the close of a holiday

R. I have been, sir, to Broom-heath, and so round
by the windmill upon Camp-mount, and home, through
the meadows, by the river side.

Mr. A. Well, that’s a pleasant round.

R. { thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with
a single person. I had rather by half have gone along
the turnpike-road.

Mr. A. Why, if seeing men and horses were your
object, you would, indeed, have been better entertained
on the high-road. But did you see William P

Rk. We set out together, but he lagged behind in
the lane, so I walked on and left him.

Mr, A. That was a pity. He would have been
company for you.

&. O, he is so tedious, always stopping to iook at
this thing and that! I had rather walk alone. I dare
sav he has not got home yet.

Myr. A. Here he comes. Well, Wiliam, where
nave you been P - |

W. O, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over
Broom-heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the
ull, and then down among the green meadows, by the
side of the river.

Mr. A. Why, that 1s just the round Robert has been
taking, and he complains of its dulness, ‘and prefers
the high-road.

W. 1 wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a
step that did not delight me, and I have brought home
my handkerchief full of curiosities.

Mr, A. Suppose, then, you give us some account of
what amused you so much. J fancy it will be as new
BO robert as te me.