, "'tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as a
church door; but 'tis enough--'twill serve."

"What!" exclaimed the Recluse, "hast thou been deceiving the boy! But
no, thou art incapable of that; and, besides, I have seen too many
wounds to apprehend danger from this."

"I see, friend, you have read Shakspeare to some purpose," cried the
doctor; "but know that I spoke not in the sense in which Mercutio
speaks of the wound that Tybalt gave him. My mirth is not so grave as
poor Mercutio's. Look you, now, I told you but the simple truth, and
what your own eyes have seen. The wound _is not_ so deep as a well,
nor so wide as a church door. If it were--admitting the physical
possibility--Pownal would be a monster to look at, and no dressings of
mine would be of any use. And it is enough, too. You would not have it
more. Besides, 'twill serve; that is, to keep him a day or two in
your cabin. And herein consists one of the innumerable excellences of
Shakspeare. Every sentence is as full of matter as my saddle-bags of
medicine. Why, I will engage to pick out as many meanings in each as
there are plums in a pudding. But, friend, I am sure you must have a
copy. Let me see it."

"I know little of these vanities," replied Holden. "In my giddy youth,
I drank such follies, even as the ass sucketh up the east wind. But
it pleased the Lord to open mine eyes. In thoughts from the visions of
the night," he continued--and his eyes shone brighter, and his stature
seemed to increase--"when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me
and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a vision passed
before me, and the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, but
I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine
eyes--there was silence, and then I heard a voice saying, 'Behold,
I come quickly; watch and pray, for thou knowest not the day nor the
hour!' I was not disobedient to the heavenly warning, and thenceforth
the pomps and vanities of the world have been as the dust beneath my
feet."

This was not the first time that the doctor heard the Recluse speak of
his peculiar opinions; but, although always ready to avow and dilate
upon them when others were willing to listen, he had uniformly
manifested an unwillingness to allude to himself or the incidents of
his life. Whenever, heretofore, as sometimes happened, the curiosity
of his auditors led the conversation in that direction, he had
invariably evaded all hints and rep