d by the exercise and
the fresh morning air, breaking into snatches of some old rustic song.
The contrast in mood between himself and this!

"Unvexed loiterer by the world's green ways" struck forcibly upon
him. Mine host, too, was one whose appearance was better suited to his
occupation than his profession. He might have told some three-and-sixty
years, but it was a comely and green old age; his cheek was firm and
ruddy, not with nightly cups, but the fresh witness of the morning
breezes it was wont to court; his frame was robust, not corpulent; and
his long grey hair, which fell almost to his shoulder, his clear blue
eyes, and a pleasant curve in a mouth characterized by habitual good
humour, completed a portrait that even many a dull observer would have
paused to gaze upon. And indeed the good man enjoyed a certain kind of
reputation for his comely looks and cheerful manner. His picture
had even been taken by a young artist in the neighbourhood; nay, the
likeness had been multiplied into engravings, somewhat rude and somewhat
unfaithful, which might be seen occupying no inconspicuous or dusty
corner in the principal printshop of the town: nor was mine host's
character a contradiction to his looks. He had seen enough of life to be
intelligent, and had judged it rightly enough to be kind. He had passed
that line so nicely given to man's codes in those admirable pages which
first added delicacy of tact to the strong sense of English composition.
"We have just religion enough," it is said somewhere in the Spectator,
"to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another." Our good
landlord, peace be with his ashes! had never halted at this limit. The
country innkeeper might have furnished Goldsmith with a counterpart to
his country curate; his house was equally hospitable to the poor--his
heart equally tender, in a nature wiser than experience, to error,
and equally open, in its warm simplicity, to distress. Peace be with
thee--Our grandsire was thy patron--yet a patron thou didst not want.
Merit in thy capacity is seldom bare of reward. The public want no
indicators to a house like thine. And who requires a third person to
tell him how to appreciate the value of good nature and good cheer?

As Walter stood, and contemplated the old man bending over the sweet
fresh earth, (and then, glancing round, saw the quiet garden stretching
away on either side with its boundaries lost among the thick evergreen,)
something of