ersation turned upon books;
and as Anderson has never seen the new poem, Roderick would not rest
till he had made them open one of the back rooms for him; and there he
is now sitting beside a solitary taper, holding his companion fast,
and declaiming the whole poem to him, not omitting even the invocation
to the muse."

"It's just like him," said Emilius; "he is always the child of the
moment. I have done all in my power, and even run the risk of some
amicable quarrels, to cure him of this habit of for ever living
extempore, and playing out his whole life in impromptus, card after
card, as it chances to turn up, without once looking over his hand.
But these follies have struck such deep root in his heart, he would
sooner part with his best friend than with them. That very same poem,
which he is so fond of that he always carries it about in his pocket,
he wanted to read to me a few days ago, and I had earnestly begged him
to do so: but he had scarcely got beyond the first description of the
moon, when, just as I had resigned myself to the enjoyment of its
beauties, he suddenly jumpt up, ran out of the room, came back with
the cook's apron round his waist, tore down the bell-rope in ringing
to have the fire lighted, and insisted on broiling me some beefsteaks,
for which I had not the least appetite, and which he fancies nobody in
Europe dresses so well, though, if he is in luck, he does not spoil
them above nine times in ten."

The Spaniard laught, and askt: "Has he never been in love?"

"After his fashion," replied Emilius very gravely; "as if he were
making game of love and of himself, with a dozen women at a time, and,
if you would believe his words, raving after every one of them: but
ere a week passes over his head, they are all spunged out of it, and
not even a blot is left behind."

They parted in the crowd, and Emilius walkt toward the remote
apartment, from which, long before he reacht it, he caught his
friend's loud recitative.

"Ah, so you are here too!" exclaimed Roderick, as he entered: "you
have just hit the right moment; I am at the very passage where we were
interrupted the other day: sit down, and you may hear the remainder."

"I am not in a humour for it now," said Emilius: "besides the time and
place do not seem to me exactly suited to such an employment."

"And why not?" answered Roderick. "Time and place are made for us, not
we for time and place. Is not good poetry just as good at one hour as