ancy, nor sentiment, nor feeling, nor knowledge
to recommend it; but it appears to me, even as regards manner and
expression, inferior in refinement and phraseology; in short, trivial,
uninteresting, stupid, really vulgar.

It seemed to Egremont that, from the day he met these persons in the
Abbey ruins, the horizon of his experience had insensibly expanded; more
than that, there were streaks of light breaking in the distance, which
already gave a new aspect to much that was known, and which perhaps
was ultimately destined to reveal much that was now utterly obscure.
He could not resist the conviction that from the time in question, his
sympathies had become more lively and more extended; that a masculine
impulse had been given to his mind; that he was inclined to view public
questions in a tone very different to that in which he had surveyed them
a few weeks back, when on the hustings of his borough.

Revolving these things, he emerged, as we have stated, into the plain of
the Mowe, and guiding his path by the course of the river, he arrived at
the bridge which a fancy tempted him to cross. In its centre, was a man
gazing on the waters below and leaning over the parapet. His footstep
roused the loiterer, who looked round; and Egremont saw that it was
Walter Gerard.

Gerard returned his salute, and said, "Early hours on Saturday afternoon
make us all saunterers;" and then, as their way was the same, they
walked on together. It seemed that Gerard's cottage was near at hand,
and having inquired after Egremont's sport, and receiving for a reply
a present of a brace of trout,--the only one, by the bye, that was in
Egremont's basket,--he could scarcely do less than invite his companion
to rest himself.

"There is my home," said Gerard, pointing to a cottage recently built,
and in a pleasing style. Its materials were of a fawn-coloured stone,
common in the Mowbray quarries. A scarlet creeper clustered round one
side of its ample porch; its windows were large, mullioned, and neatly
latticed; it stood in the midst of a garden of no mean dimensions
but every bed and nook of which teemed with cultivation; flowers and
vegetables both abounded, while an orchard rich with promise of many
fruits; ripe pears and famous pippins of the north and plums of every
shape and hue; screened the dwelling from that wind against which the
woods that formed its back-ground were no protection.

"And you are well lodged! Your garden does you ho