erse was signally unsuccessful.

And now dinner was removed, and we sat over our wine, and I remember that
the wine was good, and fully justified the encomiums of my host of the
town. Over the wine I made sure that my entertainer would have loosened
the chain which seemed to tie his tongue--but no! I endeavoured to tempt
him by various topics, and talked of geometry and the use of the globes,
of the heavenly sphere, and the star Jupiter, which I said I had heard
was a very large star, also of the evergreen tree, which, according to
Olaus, stood of old before the heathen temple of Upsal, and which I
affirmed was a yew--but no, nothing that I said could induce my
entertainer to relax his taciturnity.

It grew dark, and I became uncomfortable. "I must presently be going," I
at last exclaimed.

At these words he gave a sudden start; "Going," said he, "are you not my
guest, and an honoured one?"

"You know best," said I; "but I was apprehensive I was an intruder; to
several of my questions you have returned no answer."

"Ten thousand pardons!" he exclaimed, seizing me by the hand; "but you
cannot go now, I have much to talk to you about--there is one thing in
particular--"

"If it be the evergreen tree at Upsal," said I, interrupting him, "I hold
it to have been a yew--what else? The evergreens of the south, as the
old bishop observes, will not grow in the north, and a pine was unfitted
for such a locality, being a vulgar tree. What else could it have been
but the yew--the sacred yew which our ancestors were in the habit of
planting in their churchyards? Moreover, I affirm it to have been the
yew for the honour of the tree; for I love the yew, and had I home and
land, I would have one growing before my front window."

"You would do right; the yew is indeed a venerable tree, but it is not
about the yew."

"The star Jupiter, perhaps?"

"Nor the star Jupiter, nor its moons; an observation which escaped you at
the inn has made a considerable impression upon me."

"But I really must take my departure," said I; "the dark hour is at
hand."

And as I uttered these last words, the stranger touched rapidly something
which lay near him I forget what it was. It was the first action of the
kind which I had observed on his part since we sat down to table.

"You allude to the evil chance," said I; "but it is getting both dark and
late."

"I believe we are going to have a storm," said my friend, "but I really
hope th