114 MY VINEYARD. 



light in the anticipation of future enjoyment. My father 

 was a venerable vine, kindly in disposition, and well to do 

 in the world. His roots penetrated the soil far and wide, 

 where abundant nourishment for his whole family was 

 easily gathered. What a splendid time, so I soliloquised, 

 will I have the whole of next season ; (it w^as now fall,) 

 nothing to do in the way of obtaining food for myself, no 

 searching the dark soil here and there for delicate tit-bits 

 — nothing of the kind ; my venerable papa will do all that. 

 My only task will be to put forth a few leaves, and digest 

 the nourishment which will be so abundantly furnished. 

 The gentle summer showers will refresh me when I am 

 thirsty, the genial sunshine will warm me when cold, and 

 the cooling breezes will fan me when the heat becomes 

 oppressive. What a continued scene of enjoyment will 

 my life present ! I can scarcely await the slow approach 

 of spring, so that I can enter upon it. But the force of 

 circumstances were quite overpowering ; so I settled down 

 for a long winter's repose. 



But alas for any calculation which can be made regard- 

 ing the affairs of this transitory world. I had scarcely 

 fallen to sleep when awakened by the noise of voices in 

 conversation. They came from the gardener and his as- 

 sistant. " Here, Patrick," said the first, *' cut all of these 

 vines through here down to two buds, and save all the 

 well-ripened wood for single bud cuttings." " Sure, and 

 I'll do that same," was the willing response of the other. 



