his
books) the very best society in the world. It was from the persuasion of
the clergy having a constantly-fixed eye upon me, that I told you I was
watched ... when walking near the precincts of the cathedral. I had been
seeking you during the whole of the office of ordination." In reply to my
question about his _archaeological_ researches, he said he was then
occupied in writing a disquisition upon the _Bayeux Tapestry_, in which he
should prove that the Abbe de la Rue was wrong in considering it as a
performance of the XIIth century. "He is your great antiquarian
oracle"--observed I. "He has an over-rated reputation"--replied he--"and
besides, he is too hypothetical." Monsieur ---- promised to send me a copy
of his dissertation, when printed; and then let our friend N---- be judge
"in the matter of the Bayeux Tapestry." From the open windows of this
hermitage, into which the branches absolutely thrust themselves, I essayed,
but in vain, to survey the surrounding country; and concluded a visit of
nearly two hours, in a manner the most gratifying imaginable to honest
feelings. A melancholy, mysterious air, seemed yet, however, to mark this
amiable stranger, which had not been quite cleared up by the account he had
given of himself. "Be assured (said he, at parting) that I will see you
again, and that every facility shall be afforded you in the examination of
the Bayeux Tapestry. I have an uncle who is an efficient member of the
corporation."

On my way homeward from this ramble, I called again upon M. Pluquet, an
apothecary by profession, but a book lover and a book vender[142] in his
heart. The scene was rather singular. Below, was his _Pharmacopeia_; above
were his bed-room and books; with a broken antique or two, in the
court-yard, and in the passage leading to it. My first visit had been
hasty, and only as a whetter to the second. Yet I contrived to see from a
visitor, who was present, the desirable MS. of the vulgar poetry of OLIVIER
BASSELIN, of which I made mention to M.----. The same stranger was again
present. We all quietly left the drugs below for drugs of a different
description above--books being called by the ancients, you know, the
"MEDICINE OF THE SOUL." We mounted into the bed-room. M. Pluquet now opened
his bibliomaniacal battery upon us. "Gentlemen you see, in this room, all
the treasures in the world I possess: my wife--my child--my books--my
antiquities. "Yes, gentlemen, these are my treasures. I am