UNCLE’S FARM-YARD.

T was on a fine sunshiny afternoon, that Mary, and I (Harry
Pitt), and little Annie, arrived at Uncle John’s Farm, on our —

long visit. I think it would not be possible to find a prettier house
than Clayfield is. It is very old; there are great beams of wood
in the brickwork of the walls outside, which I never saw in any
other walls; but then I have not been much out of London—only
a few times to the sea-side, and never at the Farm before the time
I am going to tell you about. As [I have said, the sun shone
brightly that day, and there were all sorts of sweet scents on the
air, from the honey-suckle, and sweet-briar, and the fresh grass, and
the bean-fields. The leaves were of such a lovely “tender green,”
Mamma said; and there were pleasant sounds of lowing cows, and
bleating sheep, and the hum of the bees in the bean-flowers. Uncle
and Aunt Pitt were very glad to see us, and told us we must turn
farmers now, and run about in the fields. We had a very nice dinner
—a country one, Aunt Pitt said; I thought it much better than
a town one, for the chickens were excellent, and the gooseberry-fool

and cream were better still.