few who made light of the Doctor’s burdens on the
eve of the holiday. ‘Oh,’ said he to his friend, ‘it’s not

worth making any row about. I can do everything
in an hour and a half, and I mean to get up and do
1t before breakfast.’ And Sydney quite meant what
he said. That night, when he went home, he made
Joe the ploughman promise to calihim at five o’clock
next morning. At the summons Syd got up, and
nodded through the window to Joe; but the morn
looked misty, and Sydney thought there could be no
harm in lying until he felt a little more wakeful. A
fatal measure, Syd! Sleep pounced upon him in that
moment of delay, and tied him in its strong bands;
and the slumberer heard no more, until a thundering
knock, and ‘Syd!’ ‘Getup!’ ‘It is nine o'clock!”
fairly aroused him. He sprang out of bed, giving
vent to sundry expressions of disgust. ‘What a
bother!’ ‘What can have made me so sleepy?’
But then, more comfortable thoughts arose.. ‘It
is early yet, after all. Ican do my task, and have
lots of fun.’ And then he quoted the saying of
Barnaby Rudge’s famous raven, ‘Never say die!
Polly put the kettle on, and let’s have tea!’

‘It’s cold enough by this time,’ said his mother,
who had heard the last words. ‘Are you never
coming to breakfast, Syd ?’

Few boys were hardy enough to defy the Doctor,
and Syd was not one of them. -Always full of good
intentions, and profuse of his promises, Syd was in
continual scrapes, like all such random amiables.
He seemed to think he had an inexhaustible balance
in the bank of time, and abilities that could achieve
anything, If the Doctor had given him ten times
as much to do, he would have said, ‘ Very well, sir,’
with a smiling face and untroubled heart. Sydney
Macduffer never counted the cost till it was too late.

After breakfast, the task of course came upper-
most. Jhat must be done, arid soon. He would
allow himself a saunter in the sunny garden first,
but it should not be a long one. Tle would then go
up into the little room over the porch, and stay, there
till his task was mastered. It would be done long
before dinner-time, and he would then have all the
afternoon for games. ‘ :

After Syd’s mother had promised to come at dinner-
time and call him from his books, he went up-stairs,
with his mind fully made up to do his duty. But,
unwisely, he posted himself with his Ovid at the
window, from which the eye could reve over a very
pleasant view.

In the foreground, a maid was in the garden,
hanging out the clothes. I fear Syd gave her some
school-hoy chaff about a certain magpie who was
round the corner, watching his opportunity. As ill
luck would have it, too, Tom the boy was hoeing the
gravel walk just under the window, and Syd’s ear
heard the tool grating away among the moss and
weeds and pebbles.

*Tom,’ said Syd, ‘what’s Latin for hoe??
looked up and grinned. One idle boy makes another,
and for the next half-hour the hoeing was as irregular
as the verbs which Syd had to learn for the Doctor.
At last the window was shut, for Tom’s shortcomings
were noticed, and the hoe was worked with terrific
fury. But there was still the distant landscape to
look at; the far-off hills to which Syd longed to sail ;

 

 

Tom

 

the trains on the railway ; the stream where two men
were angling, and many other things more pleasant

than Latin poetry. Moreover, there was the wind!

‘Hurrah!’ cried Syd, letting Ovid fall. ‘Look at
that dust on the turnpike! Why, the kite will fly,
I’m sure!’ The temptation was overpowering, and
the kite was taken into the field near the house; but
the wind, though it now and then made little dust
spouts on the road, was not in a kite-flying humour.
In fact, it was inclined to blow by fits and starts, and
the kite, borne up rapidly, as rapidly fell, with its
tail in a tangle. There was nothing for it, but to
carry the aerial machine back again, and get the
tail unravelled. And then Syd sat in his favourite
seat, dreaming the happy hours away. All reveries
are not fruitless. Sir Isaac Newton once looked as -
Syd looks, his eyes gazing into infinite distance, and
his wonderful mind grasping the question, Why does
an apple fall to the ground? But then, Sir Isaac
had a right to speculate, for he had done his Ovid
and irregular verbs. I fear Syd’s reverie is as idle
as his labours.

Whilst thus dreaming, a hand touched him, and a
voice said, ‘Dinner’s ready. Are the lessons done ??
‘No, mother; I have not done my Ovid yet.’ ‘Oh,
Syd, Syd!’ replied his mother, ‘they were to have
been done before breakfast, and are they not done
yet? What have you been doing all the morning ??

Sydney could not answer the question. And many
of us would find it difficult to discover how we have
spent our morning. Here was poor Syd, who meant
to be on the peak soon after sunrise, still loitering at
the bottom of the mountain, and the noontide past!
The best hours for study are gone, Syd; if you are
resolute, you may yet succeed, before the stars are
shining; but the chances are against you, my boy! .

Of course, that afternoon several chaps came, who
had done their Ovid and irregular verbs, and Syd

‘was obliged to shunt his into candlelight hours.

And after a tiring a.m. of idleness, and a tiring p.m.
of ericket, the lines of Ovidius Naso seemed to run
into each other, and Syd fell asleep over the word
prosiluisse. However, he aroused himself, and when
bedtime came he had an imperfect knowledge of the
passage; but the terra incognita of the imperfect
verbs reposed under his troubled pillow. What took
place before the awful Doctor I don’t know, for I
was afraid to inquire; but I rather think Macduffer
was in for it, from what I chanced to gather as I
passed the little pastrycook’s shop where the boys
are allowed to spend their coppers in tarts and
nectar. G.S8. 0.

THE LARGEST VINE IN THE
WORLD.

TL largest vine in the world is in the neighbour.

hood of Santa Barbara, in California, 1b was
planted about seventy years ago by Doma Marcellina
Dominguez. Its branches cover 5000 square feet,
and bear annually over 10,000 Ibs. of grapes. The
stem In its thickest part is 4 feet 4 inches in cireum-
ference. The lady who planted this vine was 105
years old when she did so, and left behind her a
posterity of 800 persons, children, grandchildren,
and great-grandchildren. J.F.C.