es, and when she had given them to Aunt Barbara
and her mother, she was ready for her own pleasure.

Hatty was learning to think of others first, even in trifles.

Mrs. Lee had told the children just how many peaches they must eat; and
after they had come up to the number she named, they enjoyed going
about with Mrs. Sparrow, and watching her while she filled the large
basket that had been placed in the carriage, in front of Mr. Lee, for
the purpose. Hatty could not help thinking, as she looked at the trees
loaded with the beautiful fruit, how kind it was in our Heavenly Father
to make so much that is "pleasant to the eye and good for food," that we
may take without breaking any of his commandments. She pitied poor Eve,
if the forbidden fruit looked anything like those tempting peaches, and
was glad that there was no "serpent" at farmer Sparrow's that pleasant
day.

Hatty forgot that there is temptation every where, if not quite in the
form that was tried upon Eve.

After the children had enjoyed the orchard to their hearts' content,
little Harry grew tired, and Jane took him to rest. Mrs. Sparrow and her
strong maid carried in the heavy basket of peaches, and Hatty and Meg
had permission to wander about to look at the chickens, the bee-hives,
or anything else that might interest them.

Meg was full of glee, and would gladly have chased the chickens, handled
the young ducks, and teazed the turkey-gobbler till he was quite in a
passion. Hatty checked her as gently as she could, and managed to keep
her for some time from doing any actual mischief.

Meg was charmed when she got to the bee-hives. She had lately heard
Marcus discoursing, in his most learned manner, as to the habits and
peculiarities of bees, and she was curious to see these wise little
insects in their own home.

Hatty was glad to find her at last so absorbed as to be willing to be
quiet a moment, and, a little relieved from her anxiety, she turned away
to look at a curious plant that was growing in a small swampy place,
into which the surplus water from the large back-yard was made to flow.

The plant was, indeed, worth looking at; it was the pitcher plant, or
side-saddle-flower,--every leaf of which is so formed as to hold water.
She walked round and round it, looking into each pitcher-like leaf, and
thinking of the wonderful variety which God has chosen to make even in
the forms of the leaves, not to speak of the many-hued flowers.

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