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108  Juvenile Letters [[Italicized]]

allotted a fmall portion of ground to be managed folely at my difcretion; and I wifh you to come in feafon to affift me in laying it out to the beft advantage.
   Papa had planted many fruit trees, of almost every kind, which begin to bear abundantly; and he thinks the profpect for the approaching fummer is flattering. The walk among this grove is pleafant beyond defcription. If you could but ramble through it once with me, when all the trees are loaded with their variety of fruits, I know your gratification would be no lefs than mine. Already the redbreaft, the lark, and the thrufh, have returned to their fummer haunt, anticipating a plentiful harveft; and, in melodious notes, have commenced the praifes of Him who "feedeth the fowls of the air, which neither fow nor reap, nor gather into barns."
   Haften then, dear Helen, to join your Fanny; and we will repeat to thefe animating fongfters the following lines of the Rev. Mr. Graves.

Juvenile Letters [[Italicized]]    103

INVITATION TO THE FEATHERED TRIBE.

AGAIN the balmy Zephyr blows,
  Fresh verdure decks the grove,
Each bird with vernal raptures glows,
  And tunes his notes to love.

Ye gentle warblers, hither fly,
  And shun the moontide heat;
My shrubs a cooling shade supply,
  My groves a safe retreat.

Here freely hop from spray to spray,
  Or weave the mossy nest;
Here rove and sing the live-long day;
  At night here sweetly rest.

Amidst this cool translucent rill,
  That trickles down the glade,
Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill,
  And revel in the shade.

No school-boy rude, to mischief prone,
  E'er shows his ruddy face,
Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone,
  In this sequester'd place.

Hither the vocal Thrush repairs,
  Secure the Linnet sings,
The Goldfinch dreads no slimy snares,
  To clog her painted wings.