For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

Thus fares it still in our decay;
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what time takes away,
Than what he leaves behind.

Well, time cures every wound, and though the scar may remain and
occasionally ache, yet the earliest agony of its recent infliction is
felt no more."--So saying, he shook Lovel cordially by the hand, wished
him good-night, and took his leave.

Step after step Lovel could trace his host's retreat along the various
passages, and each door which he closed behind him fell with a sound
more distant and dead. The guest, thus separated from the living world,
took up the candle and surveyed the apartment.

The fire blazed cheerfully. Mrs. Grizel's attention had left some
fresh wood, should he choose to continue it, and the apartment had a
comfortable, though not a lively appearance. It was hung with tapestry,
which the looms of Arras had produced in the sixteenth century, and
which the learned typographer, so often mentioned, had brought with
him as a sample of the arts of the Continent. The subject was a
hunting-piece; and as the leafy boughs of the forest-trees, branching
over the tapestry, formed the predominant colour, the apartment had
thence acquired its name of the Green Chamber. Grim figures in the
old Flemish dress, with slashed doublets covered with ribbands,
short cloaks, and trunk-hose, were engaged in holding grey-hounds, or
stag-hounds, in the leash, or cheering them upon the objects of their
game. Others, with boar-spears, swords, and old-fashioned guns, were
attacking stags or boars whom they had brought to bay. The branches of
the woven forest were crowded with fowls of various kinds, each depicted
with its proper plumage. It seemed as if the prolific and rich invention
of old Chaucer had animated the Flemish artist with its profusion, and
Oldbuck had accordingly caused the following verses, from that ancient
and excellent poet, to be embroidered in Gothic letters, on a sort of
border which he had added to the tapestry:--

Lo! here be oakis grete, streight as a line,
Under the which the grass, so fresh of line,
Be'th newly sprung--at eight foot or nine.
Everich tree well from his fellow grew,
With branches broad laden with leaves n