was a green arbour
with a bench under it.

There were rows of cabbages and radishes, and peas and beans. I was
delighted to see them, for I never saw so much as a cabbage growing
out of the ground before.

On one side of this charming garden there were a great many bee-hives,
and the bees sung so prettily.

Mamma said, "Have you nothing to say to these pretty bees, Louisa?"
Then I said to them,

"How doth the little busy bee improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day from every opening flower."

They had a most beautiful flower-bed to gather it from, quite close
under the hives.

I was going to catch one bee, till Sarah told me about their stings,
which made me afraid for a long time to go too near their hives; but
I went a little nearer, and a little nearer, every day, and, before I
came away from grandmamma's, I grew so bold, I let Will Tasker hold me
over the glass windows at the top of the hives, to see them make honey
in their own homes.

After seeing the garden, I saw the cows milked, and that was the last
sight I saw that day; for while I was telling mamma about the cows, I
fell fast asleep, and I suppose I was then put to bed.

The next morning my papa and mamma were gone. I cried sadly, but was a
little comforted at hearing they would return in a month or two, and
fetch me home. I was a foolish little thing then, and did not know
how long a month was. Grandmamma gave me a little basket to gather my
flowers in. I went into the orchard, and before I had half filled my
basket, I forgot all my troubles.

The time I passed at my grandmamma's is always in my mind. Sometimes
I think of the good-natured pied cow, that would let me stroke her,
while the dairy-maid was milking her. Then I fancy myself running
after the dairy-maid into the nice clean dairy, and see the pans full
of milk and cream. Then I remember the wood-house; it had once been a
large barn, but being grown old, the wood was kept there. My sister
and I used to peep about among the faggots to find the eggs the hens
sometimes left there. Birds' nests we might not look for. Grandmamma
was very angry once, when Will Tasker brought home a bird's nest, full
of pretty speckled eggs, for me. She sent him back to the hedge with
it again. She said, the little birds would not sing any more, if their
eggs were taken away from them.

A hen, she said, was a hospitable bird, and always laid more eggs
than she wanted, on purpose to give he