Who is happier than the young student from the Lyceum when he comes home for the summer vacation, bringing with him proofs of a well-spent year? Everything smiles upon him. The sky is serene, the country wears its loveliest dress, and the fruit is ripe. Everyone congratulates him on his success, and predicts for him, after his six weeks’ repose, an energetic recommencement of congenial labour, crowned by a brilliant career in the future. Yes, our student is a happy fellow; the air seems preternaturally light, the sun shines more brightly, and the meadows wear a richer green. Even the unwelcome rain is laden with perfume. As soon as the morning breaks he hastens to revisit his favourite haunts in the park—the stream, the lake, and the farm—to see the horses, the boat, and the plantations. He chats with the farmer’s wife, who smilingly presents him with a nice galette, hot from the oven. He walks with the gamekeeper, who tells him all the news of the neighbourhood while going his rounds. The sound of the sheep bells is musical—nay, even the monotonous song of the shepherd-boy, now grown a tall fellow, and aspiring to the full dignity of shepherd.