frames erect on their lower edge, and exactly upon the three lines. With ready Lucy's assistance, and some broken branches, he secured them steady and upright, and then proceeded to roof them over with narrow slips of wood, bits of paling, which he had prepared for this purpose. These he

nailed across the top of all the three arches, leaving intervals between of the breadth of each slip; so that, when the whole was done, Lucy said that it looked something like the model of the roof of a house.

The next day's work completed the centering. Props, wedges, and all were prepared for putting it up, and going on with the masonry. There was no hindrance from the stream: the little rivulet, now sunk to insignificance, ran so quietly down its pebbly bed, that Lucy could scarcely believe it to be the same which had roared so loud, and foamed so high, and had done such mischief in its fury.

The mason-work of Harry's second bridge went on more rapidly than that of his first; his eye and hand having become more expert in the builder's art. "He worked, and wondered at the work he made;" or rather Lucy wondered at it for him.

"How one improves by practice!" cried she, as she stood by, looking on, while the arch was closing. The key-stone was in before they left off

work on the fourth day, and the triumphant finish ing blow of the mallet given.

But the work of the arch only was finished; much remained to be done to close up the hollow on each side of the bridge, between it and the banks. This was to be filled in with stones and earth, down to the rocky foundation. A heavy job, and heavily they felt it! The three days allowed them of help from the headless man, or, as Lucy now in gratitude for his services called him, the handy man, were passed. They were left to themselves, and obliged to bring the stones and the earth from a distance of many yards, and up a height. The handy man had carried his barrow off, and they had only one wheel-barrow and a basket, if basket it could be called, which was so infirm that it let through continual dribblings of sand. Lucy, however, mended this with a plaiting of sea-weed and stuffings of moss, and refrained, as Harry was busy, from saying something she could have said, about the sieve of the Danaïdes.

When at last both gulfs were filled up and well trampled, and Harry was spreading gravel on the road over the bridge, Lucy had time to rest, for they had but one shovel; and, while he shovelled away, she sat on a large mossy stone, amusing herself with observing a community of ants, whose dwellings had been disturbed by the new works.

These emigrants were toiling on in search of new habitations, each with his white load in his forceps, all following the leader, through the moss, and up the stone, to them a rock of perilous height, and scarcely practicable ascent. Once, when a wayworn ant had just reached the summit, a white polished treacherous pebble intervened. He raised one half of his body, so as to be almost perpendicular, and, wabbling about his little head from side to side, deliberated which way he could go, or whether he could go at all. On he went straight up the slippery hill. On the pinnacle of the white pebble, another pinnacle arose of sparkling mica, whose projecting points proved fatal. Striving to reach the first of these, he lost his balance; he fell head over heels, if ants have heels, and at the bottom of the hill lay on his back on the sand, for a moment helpless. But the next instant, being an ant of spirit, he righted himself, resumed his load, and his labour up the hill. Labour in vain : this time a treacherous rush, more treacherous than the pebble, a springy green rush, or branch of sedge, hanging from above, tempted him to trust himself on its smooth green side. But

"The wind fell a blowing, and set it a going,

And gave our dear joy a most terrible toss."

Lucy held out a helping finger, and, raising him up, placed him safely at once upon the very pin

nacle he had been so long labouring to attain. Away he ran, as she hoped, perfectly happy. She was particularly pleased with him for this; because she had sometimes helped up ants, who had not seemed in the least obliged to her for her assistance, nor at all happier for it; but, on the contrary, by turning back directly, or not going the way she wished, had provokingly given her to understand that they would rather have been without her interference. In spite, however, of these incivilities, and of the little disgusts they had at the moment excited, her love for the species had continued. It had, indeed, commenced happily in early childhood, at the time when she and Harry used to watch them making their causeway, and by reading the "Travelled Ant," in Evenings at Home;" it increased when she read with her mother that entertaining paper in the Guardian, well known to young and old; and it had been of late renewed with fresh interest, by some curious anecdotes, which her mother had told her from Huber's History of the industrious race.

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"Harry," said she, taking up her basket again, "I feel quite rested; I have been very happy looking at these ants. I am sure this has rested me better than if I had been the whole time yawning and thinking of nothing at all."

"Pray, can any body think of nothing at all?" said Harry.

"Let every body answer for themselves," said Lucy. "I think that I have sometimes thought of nothing at all, but I am not sure: yes, indeed, I remember saying to myself, Now I am thinking of nothing.""

6

But, then, my dear Lucy," said Harry, “your own very words prove you were not thinking of nothing."

"How so?" said Lucy,

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You were thinking, that you were thinking of nothing at all," said Harry.

"I do not understand," said Lucy. "Is not this nonsense, Harry?"

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Oh no, my dear; it is metaphysics," said Harry.

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And what do you mean by metaphysics?" asked Lucy.

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'It comes from two Greek words," said Harry. "But I don't ask you where it comes from," said Lucy, "but what you mean by it?"

"I—” said Harry, a little puzzled, "I mean -I am not sure-I believe metaphysics is the knowledge of our own minds. But now let us go on with our bridge.”