the water. Surprised at seeing two trenches partake of it, he shouted in
his turn, examines, perceives the roguery, and, sending instantly for a
pick axe, at one fatal blow makes two or three of our planks fly, crying
out meantime with all his strength, an aqueduct! an aqueduct! His
strokes redoubled, every one of which made an impression on our hearts;
in a moment the planks, the channel, the bason, even our favorite willow,
all were ploughed up, nor was one word pronounced during this terrible
transaction, except the above mentioned exclamation. An aqueduct!
repeated he, while destroying all our hopes, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!

It maybe supposed this adventure had a still more melancholy end for the
young architects; this, however, was not the case; the affair ended here.
Mr. Lambercier never reproached us on this account, nor was his
countenance clouded with a frown; we even heard him mention the
circumstance to his sister with loud bursts of laughter. The laugh of
Mr. Lambercier might be heard to a considerable distance. But what is
still more surprising after the first transport of sorrow had subsided,
we did not find ourselves violently afflicted; we planted a tree in
another spot, and frequently recollected the catastrophe of the former,
repeating with a significant emphasis, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!
Till then, at intervals, I had fits of ambition, and could fancy myself
Brutus or Aristides, but this was the first visible effect of my vanity.
To have constructed an aqueduct with our own hands, to have set a slip of
willow in competition with a flourishing tree, appeared to me a supreme
degree of glory! I had a juster conception of it at ten than Caesar
entertained at thirty.

The idea of this walnut tree, with the little anecdotes it gave rise to,
have so well continued, or returned to my memory, that the design which
conveyed the most pleasing sensations, during my journey to Geneva, in