d his house, and showed me
his little domain. It consisted of about two acres in admirable
cultivation; a small portion of it formed a kitchen garden, while the
rest was sown with four kinds of grain, wheat, barley, peas, and beans.
The air was full of ambrosial sweets, resembling those proceeding from an
orange grove; a place which though I had never seen at that time, I since
have. In the garden was the habitation of the bees, a long box,
supported upon three oaken stumps. It was full of small round glass
windows, and appeared to be divided into a great many compartments, much
resembling drawers placed sideways. He told me that, as one compartment
was filled, the bees left it for another; so that, whenever he wanted
honey, he could procure some without injury to the insects. Through the
little round windows I could see several of the bees at work; hundreds
were going in and out of the doors; hundreds were buzzing about on the
flowers, the woodbines, and beans. As I looked around on the
well-cultivated field, the garden, and the bees, I thought I had never
before seen so rural and peaceful a scene.

When we returned to the cottage we again sat down, and I asked the old
man whether he was not afraid to live alone. He told me that he was not,
for that, upon the whole, his neighbours were very kind to him. I
mentioned the fellow who had swindled him of his donkey upon the road.
"That was no neighbour of mine," said the old man, "and, perhaps, I shall
never see him again, or his like." "It's a dreadful thing," said I, "to
have no other resource, when injured, than to shed tears on the road."
"It is so," said the old man; "but God saw the tears of the old, and sent
a helper." "Why did you not help yourself?" said I. "Instead of getting
off your ass, why did you not punch at the fellow, or at any rate use
dreadful language, call him villain, and shout robbery?" "Punch!" said
the old man, "shout! what, with these hands, and this voice--Lord, how
you run on! I am old, young chap, I am old!" "Well," said I, "it is a
shameful thing to cry even when old." "You think so now," said the old
man, "because you are young and strong; perhaps when you are as old as I,
you will not be ashamed to cry."

Upon the whole I was rather pleased with the old man, and much with all
about him. As evening drew nigh, I told him that I must proceed on my
journey; whereupon he invited me to tarry with him during the night,
telling me t