66 
NATURE NOTES. 
A TALK ABOUT THE PRIMROSE. 
HE other day my aunt, who is a dressmaker, living near 
j London, came down to our village to see my father and 
mother, and as she was not well, mother let me knock 
off work and take her walks. I have heard the young 
ladies at the Hall and the Rector}' say that our village is 
beautiful ; but I never thought much about it till mother’s sister 
came, and seemed to take such an interest in just common 
things. 
One day we were going up Halstead Lane when we met Mrs. 
Langton’s boy Tom, that father always calls (though I don't know 
why) “ a precious young limb.” He carried in one hand a broken 
shovel, and in the other his handkerchief, all in rents, through 
which some primrose roots were falling. Tom laughed, and so 
did I, but aunt didn’t. She said, sharp, just like a lady in school, 
“ What’s your name, boy ? ” Tom, he looked up, and said, “John 
Atkinson.” “OTom!” I said, “ what a story ! it’s Tom Langton.” 
Tom, on the instant, put his shovel and handkerchief down, and 
crying out to me, “ I’ll smack your head, you little sneak,” made 
for to do it, but my aunt stepped on one side and caught him such 
a one as I never see before. Tom fell in a puddle in the middle 
of the lane, and sat there, screaming over and over again, “ I'll 
tell my mother of you, see if I don’t.” 
My aunt, she didn’t say nothing, but she took the primrose 
roots, and, giving me the shovel, climbed up the bank as far as 
she could, and then made me bring the shovel and dig some holes, 
into which she stuck the plants. 
“ Get up, boy,” she said, when we were again on the road ; 
“ there’s your shovel, and now go home, and don’t go digging up 
the hedge plants again.” 
“ I was only a-going to sell ’em,” Tom grumbled, as he sulkily 
took his shovel. 
When Tom stood up I saw that he was very wet, and that his 
new knickers were torn, and I was frightened. I told aunt, and 
she only said, “ If you know his mother take me to her.” I 
suppose it is London ways, but I never heard mother or anybody 
speak so short and masterful. 
Mrs. Langton was a widow, and a long time ago — six or seven 
years — had kept school, but had now got the rheumatics. She 
seemed to me to be always a-tidying — worse than mother, ever 
so much. Well, aunt makes herself known to her, and it appeared 
as they were old friends, and then aunt she told all, and allowed 
to have smacked Tom’s head, and then she said all about Tom’s 
knickers and his handkerchief being torn, and then she said, as 
being accustomed to her needle, and free from rheumatics, ’twould 
be a pastime to her to set Tom up again. 
Tom came in that moment, and stood against the door, because 
there was other boys laughing outside in the street. He looked 
so funny that his mother and all of us could not help laughing too,. 
