lf able to realise from Borrow's description the misery of a
young man tenderly reared, and with all the pride of an East Anglian
gentleman, living on bread and water in a garret, with starvation staring
him in the face. It is not passion," I said to Hake, "that prevents
Borrow from enjoying the peace of the nature-worshipper. It is Ambition!
His books show that he could never cleanse his stuffed bosom of the
perilous stuff of ambition. To become renowned, judging from many a
peroration in 'Lavengro,' was as great an incentive to Borrow to learn
languages as to Alexander Smith's poet-hero it was an incentive to write
poetry."

"Ambition and the green gamp," said Hake. "But, look, the rainbow is
fading from the sky without the intervention of gypsy sorceries, and see
how the ferns are changing colour with the change in the light."

But I soon found that if Borrow was not a perfect Child of the Open Air,
he was something better: a man of that deep sympathy with human kind,
which the "Child of the Open Air" must needs lack.

IX. THE GYPSIES OF NORMAN CROSS.

Knowing Borrow's extraordinary shyness and his great dislike of meeting
strangers, Dr. Hake, while Borrow was trying to get as close to the deer
as they would allow, expressed to me his surprise at the terms of cordial
friendship that sprang up between us during that walk. But I was not
surprised: there were several reasons why Borrow should at once take to
me--reasons that had nothing whatever to do with any inherent
attractiveness of my own.

By recalling what occurred I can throw a more brilliant light upon
Borrow's character than by any kind of analytical disquisition.

Two herons rose from the Ponds and flew away to where they probably had
their nests. By the expression on Borrow's face as he stood and gazed at
them, I knew that, like myself, he had a passion for herons.

"Were there many herons around Whittlesea Mere before it was drained?" I
said.

"I should think so," said he, dreamily, "and every kind of water bird."

Then, suddenly turning round upon me with a start, he said, "But how do
you know that I knew Whittlesea Mere?"

"You say in 'Lavengro' that you played among the reeds of Whittlesea Mere
when you were a child."

"I don't mention Whittlesea Mere in 'Lavengro,'" he said.

"No," said I, "but you speak of a lake near the old State prison at
Norman Cross, and that was Whittlesea Mere."

"Then you know Whittlesea Mere?" said