proper, and to transplant any tree they liked out of their father's
garden into their own.

Arthur remembered those words of his father which his brother Adrian had
forgotten, and therefore went to consult their gardener, Rufus. "Pray
tell me," said he, "what is now in season to sow in my garden, and in
what manner I am to set about my business." The gardener hereupon gave
him several roots and seeds, such as were properest for the season.
Arthur instantly ran and put them in the ground; and Rufus very kindly
not only assisted him in the work, but made him acquainted with many
things necessary to be known.

Adrian, on the other hand, shrugged up his shoulders at his brother's
industry, thinking he was taking much more pains than was necessary.
Rufus, not observing this contemptuous treatment, offered him likewise
his assistance and instruction; but he refused it in a manner that
sufficiently betrayed his vanity and ignorance. He then went into his
father's garden, and took from thence a quantity of flowers, which he
immediately transplanted into his own. The gardener took no notice of
him, but left him to do as he liked.

When Adrian visited his garden the following morning, all the flowers he
had planted hung down their heads, like so many mourners at a funeral,
and, as he plainly saw, were in a dying state. He replaced them with
others from his father's garden; but, on visiting them the next morning,
he found them perishing like the former.

This was a matter of great vexation to Adrian, who consequently became
soon disgusted with this kind of business. He had no idea of taking so
much pains for the possession of a few flowers, and therefore gave it up
as an unprofitable game. Hence his piece of ground soon became a
wilderness of weeds and thistles.

As he was looking into his brother's garden, about the beginning of
summer, he saw something of a red colour hanging near the ground, which,
on examination, he found to be strawberries of a delicious flavour.
"Ah!" said he, "I should have planted strawberries in my garden."

Sometime afterwards, walking again in his brother's garden, he saw
little berries of a milk-white colour, which hung down in clusters from
the branches of a bush. Upon examination, he found they were currants,
which even the sight of was a feast. "Ah!" said he, "I should have
planted currants in my garden."

The gardener then observed to him, that it was his own fault that his
garden was not a