ather. The lane was wide enough to pass in file, with
chilly droppings from the boughs above, and rude re-action of the briers
beneath. The clay upon our shoes showed a troublesome affinity to the
clay upon the road. Umbrellas we could not hold up because of the wind.
But it was better to walk than stay at home, so at least my companions
assured me, for exercise and an appetite. After pursuing them, with
hopeless assiduity, for more than a mile, without sight of egress or
sign of termination, finding I had already enough of the one, and
doubting how far the other might be off, I lagged behind, and began to
think how I might amuse myself till their return.

By one of those fortunate incidents, which they tell me never happen to
any body but a listener, I heard the sound of voices over the hedge.
This was delightful. In this occupation I forgot both mud and rain,
exercise and appetite. The hedge was too thick to see through, and all
that appeared above it was a low chimney, from which I concluded it
concealed a cottage garden.

"What in the name of wonder, James, can you be doing?" said a voice,
significant of neither youth nor gentleness.

"I war'nt ye know what I am about," said another, more rudely than
unkindly.

"I'm not sure of that," rejoined the first; "you've been hacking and
hewing at them trees this four hours, and I do not see, for my part, as
you're like to mend them."

"Why, mother," said the lad, "you see we have but two trees in all the
garden, and I've been thinking they'd match better if they were alike;
so I've tied up to a pole the boughs of the gooseberry-bush, that used
to spread themselves about the ground, to make it look more like this
thorn; and now I'm going to cut down the thorn to make it look more like
the gooseberry-bush."

"And what's the good of that?" rejoined the mother; "has not the tree
sheltered us many a stormy night, when the wind would have beaten the
old casement about our ears? and many a scorching noon-tide, hasn't your
father eaten his dinner in its shade? And now, to be sure, because you
are the master, you think you can mend it!"

"We shall see," said the youth, renewing his strokes. "It's no use as it
is; I dare say you'd like to see it bear gooseberries."

"No use!" exclaimed the mother; "don't the birds go to roost on the
branches, and the poultry get shelter under it from the rain? and after
all your cutting, I don't see as you're likely to turn a thorn-tree into