the serenity of the scene.

"After all," said Walter aloud, "the scholar was right--there is nothing
like the country!"

"'Oh, happiness of sweet retired content,
To be at once secure and innocent!'"

"Be them Verses in the Psalms, Sir?" said the Corporal, who was close
behind.

"No, Bunting; but they were written by one who, if I recollect
right, set the Psalms to verse:--[Denham.] I hope they meet with your
approbation?"

"Indeed, Sir, and no--since they ben't in the Psalms, one has no right
to think about 'em at all."

"And why, Mr. Critic?"

"'Cause what's the use of security, if one's innocent, and does not mean
to take advantage of it--baugh! One does not lock the door for nothing,
your honour!"

"You shall enlarge on that honest doctrine of yours another time;
meanwhile, call that shepherd, and ask the way to Mr. Elmore's."

The Corporal obeyed, and found that a clump of trees, at the farther
corner of the waste land, was the grove that surrounded Mr. Elmore's
house; a short canter across the heath brought them to a white gate, and
having passed this, a comfortable brick mansion of moderate size stood
before them.

CHAPTER III.

A SCHOLAR, BUT OF A DIFFERENT MOULD FROM THE STUDENT OF
GRASSDALE.--NEW PARTICULARS CONCERNING GEOFFREY LESTER.--THE
JOURNEY RECOMMENCED.

Upon inquiring for Mr. Elmore, Walter was shown into a handsome library,
that appeared well-stocked with books, of that good, old-fashioned size
and solidity, which are now fast passing from the world, or at least
shrinking into old shops and public collections. The time may come, when
the mouldering remains of a folio will attract as much philosophical
astonishment as the bones of the mammoth. For behold, the deluge of
writers hath produced a new world of small octavo! and in the next
generation, thanks to the popular libraries, we shall only vibrate
between the duodecimo and the diamond edition. Nay, we foresee the
time when a very handsome collection may be carried about in one's
waistcoat-pocket, and a whole library of the British Classics be neatly
arranged in a well-compacted snuff-box.

In a few minutes Mr. Elmore made his appearance; he was a short,
well-built man, about the age of fifty. Contrary to the established
mode, he wore no wig, and was very bald; except at the sides of the
head, and a little circular island of hair in the centre. But this
defect was rendered the less visible