hese persons immediately rose on their appearance, and gravely
but courteously saluted them. He was a tall man, somewhat advanced in
life, being then about sixty-three, with an aquiline nose, dark eyes,
not yet robbed of their lustre, grey hair waving over his shoulders, and
a pointed beard and moustache. The general expression of his countenance
was shrewd and penetrating, and yet there were certain indications of
credulity about it, showing that he was as likely to be imposed upon
himself as to delude others. It is scarcely necessary to say that this
way Lilly.

The person on his right, whose name was John Booker, and who, like
himself, was a proficient in astrology, was so buried in calculation,
that he did not raise his eyes from the paper on the approach of the
strangers. He was a stout man, with homely but thoughtful features, and
though not more than a year older than Lilly, looked considerably his
senior. With the exception of a few silver curls hanging down the back
of his neck, he was completely bald; but his massive and towering brow
seemed to indicate the possession of no ordinary intellectual qualities.
He was a native of Manchester, and was born in 1601, of a good family.
"His excellent verses upon the twelve months," says Lilly, in his
autobiography, "framed according to the configurations of each month,
being blessed with success according to his predictions, procured him
much reputation all over England. He was a very honest man," continues
the same authority; "abhorred any deceit in the art he studied; had a
curious fancy in judging of thefts; and was successful in resolving
love-questions. He was no mean proficient in astronomy; understood much
in physic! was a great admirer of the antimonial cup; and not unlearned
in chemistry, which he loved well, but did not practise." At the period
of this history, he was clerk to Sir Hugh Hammersley, alderman.

The third person,--a minor canon of Saint Paul's, named Thomas
Quatremain,--was a grave, sallow-complexioned man, with a morose and
repulsive physiognomy. He was habited in the cassock of a churchman of
the period, and his black velvet cap lay beside him on the table. Like
Booker, he was buried in calculations, and though he looked up for a
moment as the others entered the room, he instantly resumed his task,
without regard to their presence.

After looking earnestly at his visitors for a few moments, and appearing
to study their features, Lilly motioned