aid my friend on my return.

He walked with me to the park gate; neither of us said anything by the
way. When we had come upon the road, I said: "Farewell now; I will not
permit you to give yourself any further trouble on my account. Receive
my best thanks for your kindness; before we part, however, I should wish
to ask you a question. Do you think you shall ever grow tired of
authorship?"

"I have my fears," said my friend, advancing his hand to one of the iron
bars of the gate.

"Don't touch," said I, "it is a bad habit. I have but one word to add:
should you ever grow tired of authorship follow your first idea of
getting into Parliament; you have words enough at command; perhaps you
want manner and method; but, in that case, you must apply to a teacher,
you must take lessons of a master of elocution."

"That would never do!" said my host; "I know myself too well to think of
applying for assistance to any one. Were I to become a parliamentary
orator, I should wish to be an original one, even if not above
mediocrity. What pleasure should I take in any speech I might make,
however original as to thought, provided the gestures I employed and the
very modulation of my voice were not my own? Take lessons, indeed! why,
the fellow who taught me, the professor, might be standing in the gallery
whilst I spoke; and, at the best parts of my speech, might say to
himself: 'That gesture is mine--that modulation is mine'. I could not
bear the thought of such a thing."

"Farewell," said I, "and may you prosper. I have nothing more to say."

I departed. At the distance of twenty yards I turned round suddenly; my
friend was just withdrawing his finger from the bar of the gate.

"He has been touching," said I, as I proceeded on my way; "I wonder what
was the evil chance he wished to baffle."

[_End of Vol. II._, 1851.]

CHAPTER LXVIII.

After walking some time, I found myself on the great road, at the same
spot where I had turned aside the day before with my new-made
acquaintance, in the direction of his house. I now continued my journey
as before, towards the north. The weather, though beautiful, was much
cooler than it had been for some time past; I walked at a great rate,
with a springing and elastic step. In about two hours I came to where a
kind of cottage stood a little way back from the road, with a huge oak
before it, under the shade of which stood a little pony and cart, which
seemed to contain va