CHAPTER XV. 



'* Slow pass'd the night, and now with silver ray, 

 The star of morning ushers in the day ; 

 The shadows fly before the roseate hours, 

 And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers ; 

 The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield, 

 The cheerful labourer hastens to the field." 



" Trifles, light as air," observed Trim- 

 bush, * ' are frequently of the most momentous 

 importance. Who could have thought, now, ' ' 

 continued he, *' that brushing a flea from 

 your neck v^ould have subjected ye to upwards 

 of six weeks confinement from all society? " 



"Ah ! " exclaimed I, " if I could have had 

 any anticipation of such a result, he might 

 have sucked my blood till now. ' ' 



