evening rain after a parching day, will recruit Lysander's
exhausted strength. What say you?

LYSAND. "I shall in all things obey your high command." But hark--I
hear the outer gate bell ring! The ladies are arrived: and you know my
bashfulness in female society. Adieu, BIBLIOMANIA! 'till the morrow.

LOREN. Nay, you are drawing too dismal conclusions. My sisters are not
sworn enemies to this kind of discourse.

* * * * *

The arrival of ALMANSA and BELINDA, the sisters of Lorenzo put a stop
to the conversation. So abrupt a silence disconcerted the ladies; who,
in a sudden, but, it must be confessed, rather taunting, strain--asked
whether they should order their bed-chamber candlesticks, and retire
to rest?

LIS. Not if you are disposed to listen to the most engaging
book-anecdote orator in his majesty's united realms!

ALMAN. Well, this may be a sufficient inducement for us to remain. But
why so suddenly silent, gentlemen?

LOREN. The conversation had ceased before you arrived. We were
thinking of a _hung-beef sandwich_ and a glass of madeira to recruit
Lysander's exhausted powers. He has been discoursing ever since
dinner.

BELIND. I will be his attendant and cup-bearer too, if he promises to
resume his discourse. But you have probably dispatched the most
interesting part.

LYSAND. Not exactly so, I would hope, fair Lady! Your brother's
hospitality will add fresh energy to my spirit; and, like the renewed
oil in an exhausted lamp, will cause the flame to break forth with
fresh splendour.

BELIND. Sir, I perceive your ingenuity, at least, has not forsaken
you--in whatever state your memory may be!--

* * * * *

Here the _sandwiches_ made their appearance: and Lorenzo seated his
guests, with his sisters, near him, round a small circular table. The
repast was quickly over: and Philemon, stirring the sugar within a
goblet of hot madeira wine and water, promised them all a romantic
book-story, if the ladies would only lend a gracious ear. Such a
request was, of course, immediately complied with.

PHIL. The story is short--

LIS. And sweet, I ween.

PHIL. That remains to be proved. But listen.

You all know my worthy friend, FERDINAND: a very _Helluo Librorum_. It
was on a warm evening in summer--about an hour after sunset--that
Ferdinand made his way towards a small inn, or rather village
alehouse, that stood on a gentle eminence, skirted b