ther sorts of creatures."
"And who may the particular poet be, Mr. Bragg," Eve asked, "who
honours Templeton, with his presence just at this moment?"
"That is more than I can tell you, miss, for, though some eight or
ten of us have done little else than try to discover his name for the
last week, we have not got even as far as that one fact. He and the
gentleman who travels with him, are both uncommonly close on such
matters, though I think we have some as good catechisers in
Templeton, as can be found any where within fifty miles of us!"
"There is another gentleman with him--do you suspect them both of
being poets?"
"Oh, no, Miss, the other is the waiter of the poet; that we know, as
he serves him at dinner, and otherwise superintends his concerns;
such as brushing his clothes, and keeping his room in order."
"This is being in luck for a poet, for they are of a class that are a
little apt to neglect the decencies. May I ask why you suspect the
master of being a poet, if the man be so assiduous?"
"Why, what else can he be? In the first place, Miss Effingham, he has
no name."
"That is a reason in point," said John Effingham "very few poets
having names."
"Then he is out on the lake half his time, gazing up at the 'Silent
Pine,' or conversing with the 'Speaking Rocks,' or drinking at the
'Fairy Spring.'"
"All suspicious, certainly; especially the dialogue with the rocks;
though not absolutely conclusive."
"But, Mr. John Effingham, the man does not take his food like other
people. He rises early, and is out on the water, or up in the forest,
all the morning, and then returns to eat his breakfast in the middle
of the forenoon; he goes into the woods again, or on the lake, and
comes back to dinner, just as I take my tea."
"This settles the matter. Any man who presumes to do all this, Mr.
Bragg, deserves to be called by some harder name, even, than that of
a poet. Pray, sir, how long has this eccentric person been a resident
of Templeton?"
"Hist--there he is, as I am a sinner; and it was not he and the other
gentlemen that were in the boat."
The rebuked manner of Aristabulus, and the dropping of his voice,
induced the whole party to look in the direction of his eye, and,
sure enough, a gentleman approached them, in the dress a man of the
world is apt to assume in the country, an attire of itself that was
sufficient to attract comment in a place where the general desire was
to be as much like tow
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