who had undertaken to see them off the following morning, on their
return to Grafton Hall.

They all declared that they never had enjoyed so amusing a day as that
spent at Eton.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

CONCLUSION.

"Had anybody told me when I came to this school that three years would
so rapidly pass by, I would not have believed them," said Ernest,
addressing Ellis, Buttar, and Bouldon, as the four old friends were
walking up and down the playground, ready to form for proceeding to
church the last Sunday they were to spend together at Grafton Hall
before the summer holidays. "I should have been glad to have remained
here another half, or even a year, but my father wishes me to read with
a tutor whose exclusive occupation it is to prepare fellows for India;
so I am to go to him in a few weeks. I intend to read hard, for I am
resolved not to be idle wherever I go."

"Oh, I envy you!" exclaimed Bouldon, "for I know that you will get on;
and I wish you may, that you may come back again safe and sound to old
England."

"Oh, I must not think of coming back for years, I fear," answered
Ernest. "The less one calculates in that way the better. I suspect
that people are too apt to neglect the present when they allow their
thoughts to dwell too much on the future. The great thing is, as my
father says, to do our duty during the present, and to enjoy life as it
was intended that we should enjoy it, and to allow the future to take
care of itself. I do not mean to say that we are to neglect the future,
but that we are not to fancy always that the future is to bring forth so
much more happiness than the present time can afford. You understand
what I mean, or rather what my father means. Now, Gregson is an example
to the point. See how happy he always is. He is happy in doing his
lessons, because he gives his whole mind to them; and though his talents
are not brilliant, he always does them well. Then the moment they are
done, he turns to his favourite pursuits. Then he is as happy as he can
desire to be in this life. He is not idle for a moment; every book he
opens on natural history gives him pleasure; every walk he takes he
finds something new and delightful. The birds of the air, the beasts of
the field, the creeping things on the earth and under the earth, the
trees, the flowers, their numberless inhabitants, all are matters of
intense interest to him. He cannot look into a horse-pond without
finding subje