but, alas! in neither case did I profit by their example. "Now, Freddy," the old lady would say, giving her spectacles a preparatory wipe, as she basked in a summer evening's sun, after a five o'clock tea, "fetch a piece of bread and butter, and we will see the ants work. Lord bless the boy, if he hasn't thrown down a whole slice. Why do you waste good victuals in that way? Who do you think's to eat it, after it has been on the gravel? There, pinch a bit off and throw it down. Put the rest back upon the plate--it will do for the cat." But these ants were no more to be compared to mine, than a common labourer is to the engineer who directs the mechanical powers which raise mountains from their foundation. My old grandmother would never let me escape until the bread and butter was in the hole, and, what was worse, I had then to listen to the moral inference which was drawn, and which took up more time than the ants did to draw the bread and butter-- all about industry, and what not; a long story, partly her own, partly borrowed from Solomon; but it was labour in vain. I could not understand why, because ants like bread and butter, I must like my book. She was an excellent old woman; but nevertheless, many a time did I have a fellow-feeling with the boy in the caricature print, who is sitting with his old grandmother and the cat, and says, "I wish one of us three were dead. It an't I--and it an't you, pussy." Well, she died at last, full of years and honour; and I was summoned from school to attend her funeral. My uncle was much affected, for she had been an excellent mother. She might have been so; but I, graceless boy, could not perceive her merits as a _grandmother_, and showed a great deal of fortitude upon the occasion. I recollect a circumstance attendant upon her funeral which, connected as it was with a subsequent one, has since been the occasion of serious reflection upon the trifling causes which will affect the human mind, when prostrate under affliction. My grandmother's remains were consigned to an old family vault, not far from the river. When the last ceremonies had been paid, and the coffin was being lowered into the deep receptacle of generations which had passed away, I looked down, and it was full of water, nearly up to the arch of the vault. Observing my surprise, and perceiving the cause, my uncle was much annoyed at the circumstance; but it was too late the cords had been removed, and my grandmother had sunk to the bottom. My uncle interrogated the sexton after the funeral service was over. "Why, sir, it's because it's high-water now in the river; she will be all dry before the evening." This made the matter worse. If she was all a-dry in the evening, she would be all afloat again in the morning. It was no longer a place of rest, and my uncle's grief was much increased by the idea. For a long while afterwards he appeared uncommonly thoughtful at spring tides.