t, a LARGE PAPER copy of the original edition of _Prince's
Worthies of Devon_; while, lying transversely at top, reposed _John
Weever's Epigrams_, "The spirit of Captain Cox is here revived"--exclaimed
Ferdinand--while, on looking above, he saw a curious set of old plays,
with _Dido, Queen of Carthage_, at the head of them! What should he
do? No key: no chance of handling such precious tomes--'till the
morning light, with the landlord, returned! He moved backwards and
forwards with a hurried step--prepared his pocket knife to cut out the
panes of glass, and untwist the brazen wires--but a "_prick of
conscience_" made him desist from carrying his wicked design into
execution. Ferdinand then advanced towards the window; and throwing it
open, and listening to the rich notes of a concert of nightingales,
forgot the cause of his torments--'till, his situation reminding him
of "_The Churl and the Bird_," he rushed with renewed madness into the
cupboard--then searched for the bell--but, finding none, he made all
sorts of strange noises. The landlady rose, and, conceiving robbers to
have broken into the stranger's room, came and demanded the cause of
the disturbance.

"Madam," said Ferdinand, "is there no possibility of inspecting the
_books_ in the _cupboard_--where is the key?" "Alack, sir," rejoined
the landlady, "what is there that thus disturbs you in the sight of
those books? Let me shut the closet-door and take away the key of it,
and you will then sleep in peace." "Sleep in _peace_!" resumed
Ferdinand--"sleep in _wretchedness_, you mean! I can have no peace
unless you indulge me with the key of the book-case. To whom do such
gems belong?" "Sir, they are not stolen goods."--"Madam, I ask
pardon--I did not mean to question their being honest property--but"--"Sir,
they are not mine or my husband's." "Who, madam, who is the lucky
owner?" "An elderly gentleman of the name of--Sir, I am not at liberty
to mention his name--but they belong to an elderly gentleman." "Will
he part with them--where does he live? Can you introduce me to
him?"--The good woman soon answered all Ferdinand's rapid queries, but
the result was by no means satisfactory to him.

He learnt that these uncommonly scarce and precious volumes belonged
to an ancient gentleman, whose name was studiously concealed; but who
was in the habit of coming once or twice a week, during the autumn, to
smoke his pipe, and lounge over his books: sometimes making extracts
f