On the following morning, the vicar was seen approaching, and Tom and his sisters immediately ran forward to greet him. “My dear boy,” exclaimed the vicar, “I am truly rejoiced to see you;--when did you arrive from school?--How goes on Virgil?--Hey, my boy?--You must be delighted with the great Mantuan bard;--now confess, you little Trojan, can you eat a cheesecake without being reminded of the Harpy’s prophecy, and its fulfilment, as discovered by young Ascanius:-- Heus! etiam _mensas_ consumimus, inquit Iulus. ÆN. vii. 116. “But, bless me, how amazingly you have grown! and how healthy you look!” Tom took advantage of this pause in the vicar’s address, which had hitherto flowed in so uninterrupted and rapid a stream as to preclude the possibility of any reply to his questions, to inform him that his father was on the lawn, and desirous of seeing him. “Mr. Twaddleton,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, “you are just in time to witness the commencement of a series of amusements, which I have proposed for Tom’s instruction during the holidays.” “Amusement and instruction,” replied the vicar, “are not synonymous in my vocabulary; unless, indeed, they be applied to the glorious works of Virgil; but let me hear your scheme.” “I have long thought,” said Mr. Seymour, “that all the first principles of natural philosophy might be easily taught, and beautifully illustrated, by the common toys which have been invented for the amusement of youth.” “A fig for your philosophy,” was the unceremonious and chilling reply of the vicar. “What have boys,” continued he, “to do with philosophy? Let them learn their grammar, scan their hexameters, and construe Virgil; it is time enough to inflict upon them the torments of science after their names have been entered on the University boards.” “I differ from you entirely, my worthy friend; the principles of natural philosophy cannot be too early inculcated, nor can they be too widely diffused. It is surely a great object to engage the prepossessions on the side of truth, and to direct the natural curiosity of youth to useful objects.” “Hoity toity!” exclaimed the reverend gentleman, “such principles accord not with my creed; heresy, downright heresy; that a man of your excellent sense and intelligence can be so far deceived! But the world has run mad; and much do I grieve to find, that the seclusion of Overton Lodge has not secured its inmates from the infection. I came here, Mr. Seymour, to receive your sympathy, and to profit by your counsel, but, alas! alas! I have fallen into the camp of the enemy. ‘_Medios delapsus in hostes_,’ as Virgil has it.” “You astonish me--what can have happened?” asked Mr. Seymour.