Glen Luna

perfect concert of catbirds and song-sparrows?waked to see the sun rise on our new habitation, and our untried country life. Who does not remember some first awaking in a strange place!?the quiet lying still as the eye takes in unwonted walls and windows, that are bright with the old familiar sunlight?the gradual gathering up of the stray ends of remembrance?the where, the how, and the whence?and then the sudden spring of both mind and body at the thought of the new and unproved things that await one below stairs. I remember it all, though now what my waking eyes first rest upon has been so often seen in every variety of early light, that I can hardly realise its having ever looked strange to me?as hardly as that the cat-birds which have sung at my matinees this summer were then unheard of in the musical world; or, by some remote possibility of long life, were on that very morning hiding their undeveloped feathers and faculties together, beneath a blue egg-shell. So have we both emerged!?they from the nest, I from the child's mist which was pervious to nothing but sunshine. Uncle- Ned was at the door by the time we had breakfasted ; and after some words of greeting and advice, and a long message from Mrs Ned and Mrs M'Namara, about our health and happiness, he and I set forth on a walk. All new to me?all glittering with fresh dew-drops ! My uncle was in his element, and talked almost as fast as I did. Now he led the way through a little...