MY VINEYARD. Hi 



CHAPTER XIV. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A VINE. 



On one occasion, not long ago, I visited a friend who 

 has a small number of vines wliicli are perfect models in 

 form and vigor. One of them was j^articularly remarka- 

 ble for its symmetry. " If that vine," I remarked, " were 

 to tell its OTvn story, it would be one of great care and 

 untiring attention." " Not very great," my friend replied ; 

 *' and as to telling its own story, I see no reason why it 

 should not. I frequently talk to it while engaged in the 

 work of bringing it up in the way it should go." Not 

 many days afterwards I received the following paper, 

 bearing the title I have placed at the commencement of 

 this chapter : 



"When very young, I know not how old indeed, but 

 nearly as far back as my memory goes, (you would have 

 called me a bud in those days,) I used to take great de- 



