eding
glory of the hills flung on every side around them, and the broad living
sparkle of the sea caught here and there in glimpses between the nearer
peaks. Walter, Henderson, and Kenrick, were in front, while at some
distance behind them, Power helped on Daubeny, who soon showed signs of
fatigue.

"Look at that pappy fellow, Evson," said Daubeny, sighing; "how he is
bounding along in front. How active he is."

"You seem out of spirits," said Power kindly; "what's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. A little tired, that's all."

"You're surely not fretting about having lost the head place."

"Oh, no. `Palmam qui meruit ferat.' As Robertson said the other day in
his odd, fantastic way of expressing his thoughts--`In the amber of duty
you must not always expect to find the curious grub success.'"

"Depend upon it, you'd be higher if you worked less, my dear fellow.
Let me persuade you--don't work for examination any more."

"You all mistake me. It's not for the _place_ that I work, but because
I want to _know_, to _learn_; not to grow up quite stupid and
empty-headed as I otherwise should do."

"What a love for work you have, Daubeny."

"Yes, I have now; but do you know it really wasn't natural to me. As a
child, I used to be idle and get on very badly, and it used to vex my
poor father, who was then living, very much. Well, one day, not long
before he died, I had been very obstinate, and would learn nothing. He
didn't say much, but in the afternoon, when we were taking a walk, we
passed an old barn, and on the thatched roof was a lot of grass and
stonecrop. He plucked a handful, and showed me how rank and useless it
was, and then, resting his hand upon my head, he told me that it was the
type of an idle, useless man--`grass upon the housetops, withered before
it groweth up, wherewith the mower filleth not his hand, nor he that
gathereth the sheaves his bosom.' Somehow, the circumstance took hold
of my imagination; it was the last scene with my poor father which I
vividly remember. I have never been idle since then."

Power mused a little, and then said--"But, dear Dubbs, you'll make your
brain heavy by the time examination begins; you won't be able to do
yourself justice."

He did not answer; but a weary look, which Power had often observed,
with anxiety, came over his face.

"I'm afraid I must turn back, Power," he said; "I'm quite tired--done
up."

"I've been thinking so, too. Let me turn back wit