"Doctor," said Barton, in the little office of the latter, "I've called to borrow your Euclid; may I have it? I have never tried Euclid, really."
"Oh, yes, you can have it, and welcome. Do you want to try yourself on the pons asinorum?"
"What is that; another bridge of sighs? for I suppose they can be found out of Venice."
"It is a place over which asses have to be carried. It is, indeed, a bridge of sighs, and a bridge of size."
"Oh, Doctor, don't you do that! Well, let me try it! I want more work; and especially I want a wrestle with Euclid."
"Work! what are you doing, that you call work?"
"Well, hoeing beans, pulling up weeds, harvesting oats, with recreations in Latin Grammar, Dabol, Algebra, Watts on the Mind, Butler's Analogy, and other trifles."
"All at one time?"
"No, not more than three at the same time. Don't lecture me, Doctor, I am incorrigible. When I work, I don't play."
"And when you don't play you work, occasionally; well, I think Euclid will do you good."