She missed him much; but the loss of his society was partially counterbalanced by frequent and brotherly letters from him, and by weekly visits to her home, which by the way, is becoming quite a paradise under her supervision.--She has been studying painting and drawing. Several well-executed specimens of each adorn the walls and tables of their sitting-room and parlor. She has no "regular built" centre-table, but in lieu thereof she has removed from the garret an old round table that belonged to her grandmother. This she has placed in the centre of the sitting-room; and what with its very pretty covering (which falls so near the floor as to conceal its uncouth legs), and its books, it forms no mean item of elegance and convenience.
Mr. Greenough and his help have improved a few leisure days in removing the trees that entirely concealed the Merrimac. By the profits resulting from their sale, he has built a neat and tasteful enclosure for his house and garden. This autumn shade-trees and shrubbery are to be removed to the yard, and fruit-trees and vines to the garden. Next winter a summer-house is to be put in readiness for erection in the spring.
All this, and much more, Mr. Greenough is confident he can accomplish, without neglecting his _necessary_ labors, or the course of reading he has marked out, "by and with the advice" of his wife and Harriet. And more, and better still, he has decided that his son George shall attend school, at least two terms yearly. He will board at home, and will be accompanied by his cousin Charles, whom Mr. Greenough has offered to board gratis, until his education is completed. By this generosity on the part of her uncle, Jane will be enabled to defray other expenses incidental to Charles's education, and still have leisure for literary pursuits.
"The day is come I never thought to see, Strange revolutions in my farm and me."
O Swiftly flies the shuttle now, Swift as an arrow from the bow: But swifter than the thread is wrought, Is soon the flight of busy thought; For Fancy leaves the mill behind, And seeks some novel scenes to find. And now away she quickly hies-- O'er hill and dale the truant flies. Stop, silly maid! where dost thou go? Thy road may be a road of woe: Some hand may crush thy fairy form, And chill thy heart so lately warm. "Oh no," she cries in merry tone, "I go to lands before unknown; I go in scenes of bliss to dwell, Where ne'er is heard a factory bell."