“I was walking on one such day till I came to what had been the private road leading to a gentleman’s house.  The house itself was old and uninhabited, and the way to it was open.  I walked along, and the trees on either side of it were bare, sparkling with frost and looking like other trees outside.  Presently I came to a bend in the road, and saw that on both sides the space was planted with evergreen shrubs and trees, and some of the trees were very tall.  There were evergreen oaks, and pines, and firs, and plenty of the large-leaved ivy.  It seemed as if I had walked from midwinter into midsummer.  The bright sun was shining, the air was still, the sky a cloudless blue, and all the trees were green!  I stood still to enjoy the sight, then I walked on for a very short way, when another sharp turn of the road brought me back to the wintry landscape of bare trees and more open country.  That sight can be seen any winter now.”

“I thought the country was dull in winter,” said Mary.

“We have dull days, rainy days, and dark days; but then, although Nature is so quiet, she is still alive, and there are always changes going on.

“I knew a gentleman, who is dead now, but he lived to be very old.  For a very great many years he always took one walk, at a certain hour every Sunday morning, all the year through.  It was a very ordinary country walk—­through the little town, up by the side of a fir plantation, along hedge-rows and scattered houses, over a stile into a long ploughed field generally planted with turnips for cattle, then over another stile, through winding lanes that led to farm-houses and at last came out into the public road.

“It interested him to watch the changes week after week—­the first appearing of buds in the spring time, their growth during the week, then the bursting of the leaves.  Then there was the white blossom of the black-thorn, which comes before the leaves; then that of the white-thorn or ‘May;’ the silvery blossom of the willow tree; and the yellow catkins of the hazel, called by country children ‘lamb-tails.’  Then came the wild flowers of very early spring, till, as the weeks went on, their bloom was over with summer and autumn.  Now the hedges were red with hips and haws.  At last the leaves fell, and winter came once more.

“Besides all these changes there were the birds to notice—­when they first came back to England after their winter absence, when the cuckoo was first heard, and many other things as well.

“You may take the same walk fifty-two times a year, year after year, as he did, and yet no two walks will be alike.

“Now Sarah shall clear the table and I will fetch my portfolio of sketches.”

When Aunt Lizzie returned she said, “These are all wild flowers here.—­You know that one?”

“Why, yes, it is a primrose.  We should know what a primrose was like better by this than by the dried ones.  Why, aunt! you have painted a whole lot of them growing just as they do grow.”