shall see in them a close parallelism to those of mor- tals, —- toil, struggle, danger, privation, mingled with glimpses of peace and ease; enmity, afiection, a con- tinual hope of bettering themselves, although their ob- jects lie at less distance before them than ours can do. Thus, no argument for the imperfect character of our existence and its delusory promises, and its apparent injustice, ca11 be drawn in reference to our immortal- ity, without, in a degree, being applicable to our brute brethren.

Lenom, February 12th, 1851. A walk across the

lake with Una. A heavy rain, some days ago, has melted a good deal of the snow on the intervening descent between our house and the lake; but many drifts, depths, and levels yet remain; and there is a frozen crust, sufficient to bear a man’s weight, and very slippery. Adown the slopes there are tiny rivu- lets, which exist only for the winter. Bare, brown spaces of grass here and there, but still so infrequent as only to diversify the scene a little. In the woods, rocks emerging, and, where there is a slope innnedi- ately towards the lake, the snow is pretty much gone, and we see partridge-berries frozen, and outer shells of walnuts, and chestnut-burrs, heaped or scattered among the roots of the trees. The walnut-husks mark the place where the boys, after nutting, sat down to clear the walnuts of their outer shell. The various species of pine look exceedingly brown just now,—- less beautiful than those trees which shed their leaves. An oak-tree, with almost all its brown foliage still rustling on it. We clamber down the bank, and step upon the frozen lake. It was s11o\\~'-cove1'ed for a con- siderable time; but the rain overspread it with a. sur-