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order of time ranks, of course, the log-cabin, such as are still seen to-day in the hills, or on the skirts of the woods: low, substantial, and rustic; when well put together, and inhabited by neat and thrifty people, they look very snug and comfortable, and decidedly picturesque, also. Not long since, we passed one a few miles from the village, which had as pleasant a cottage look as possible; it was in excellent order, in a neat little yard, with flower-borders under the windows, a couple of very fine balsam-firs before the door, and a row of half a dozen luxuriant hop-vines just within the fence. Another, near the Red Brook, attracted our attention more than once, during our summer walks: everything about it was so snug; the little windows looked bright and clean, as though they belonged to a Dutch palace; the rose-bushes standing in the grassy yard were flourishing and luxuriant; a row of tin milk-pans were usually glittering in the sun, and a scythe hung for several weeks beside the door; it would have made a pretty sketch. One dark cloudy afternoon, we also passed another of these log-cottages, of the very smallest size; it was old, and much out of repair, and stood directly by the road-side, without any yard at all; but everything about it was very neat: a tub and pails were piled under a little shed at the door, the small window was bright and well washed, and a clean white curtain within was half drawn to let in the light upon a table on which lay a large open Bible, and a pair of spectacles; twice, toward evening, we chanced to see that little curtain half drawn, to let in the light upon the Holy Book; doubtless some aged Christian lived there. The building is now turned into a shed; we did not know who lived there, but we never pass it without remembering the little table and the Bible. Unhappily, all log-cabins have not