ony of
expectation. Mr. Lewis having occupied himself, almost exclusively, with
his pencil during the whole morning, I persuaded him to accompany me to
_St. Loup_. After dinner we set out upon our expedition. It had rained in
the interim, and every tree was charged with moisture as we passed them ...
their blossoms exhaling sweets of the most pungent fragrance. The road ran
in a straight line from the west front of the cathedral, which, on turning
round, as we saw it irradiated by partial glimpses of sunshine, between
masses of dark clouds, assumed a very imposing and venerable aspect. I
should tell you, however, that the obliging Monsieur ---- came himself to
the Hotel de Luxembourg, to conduct us to his humble abode: for "humble" it
is in every sense of the word. About two-thirds of the way thither, we
passed the little church of _St. Loup_: a perfect Gothic toy of the XIIth
century--with the prettiest, best-proportioned tower that can be
imagined.[141] It has a few slight clustered columns at the four angles,
but its height and breadth are truly pigmy. The stone is of a whitish grey.
We did not enter; and with difficulty could trace our way to examine the
exterior through the high grass of the church yard, yet _laid_ with the
heavy rain. What a gem would the pencil of BLORE make of this tiny,
ancient, interesting edifice! At length we struck off, down a lane slippery
with moisture--when, opening a large swinging gate--"here (exclaimed our
guide)--lived and died my father, and here his son hopes to live and die
also. Gentlemen, yonder is my hermitage." It was a retirement of the most
secluded kind: absolutely surrounded by trees, shrubs, hay-stacks, and
corn-stacks--for Monsieur ---- hath a fancy for farming as well as for
reading. The stair-case, though constructed of good hard Norman stone, was
much worn in the middle from the frequent tread of half a century. It was
also fatiguingly steep, but luckily it was short. We followed our guide to
the left, where, passing through one boudoir-like apartment, strewn with
books and papers, and hung with a parcel of mean ornaments called
_pictures_, we entered a second--of which portions of the wainscoat were
taken away, to shew the books which were deposited behind. Row after row,
and pile upon pile, struck my wondering eye. Anon, a closet was opened--and
there again they were stowed, "thick and threefold." A few small busts, and
fractured vases, were meant to grace a table in t