-travellers, either overawed into silence by his
presence, or struck dumb with admiration at his equipage, he accosted
them in these words, while an agreeable smile dimpled on his cheek:--

"The good company wonders, no doubt, to see a man cased in armour, such
as hath been for above a whole century disused in this and every other
country of Europe; and perhaps they will be still more surprised, when
they hear that man profess himself a novitiate of that military order,
which hath of old been distinguished in Great Britain, as well as through
all Christendom, by the name of knights-errant. Yes, gentlemen, in that
painful and thorny path of toil and danger I have begun my career, a
candidate for honest fame; determined, as far as in me lies, to honour
and assert the efforts of virtue; to combat vice in all her forms,
redress injuries, chastise oppression, protect the helpless and forlorn,
relieve the indigent, exert my best endeavours in the cause of innocence
and beauty, and dedicate my talents, such as they are, to the service of
my country."

"What!" said Ferret, "you set up for a modern Don Quixote? The scheme
is rather too stale and extravagant. What was a humorous romance and
well-timed satire in Spain near two hundred years ago, will make but a
sorry jest, and appear equally insipid and absurd when really acted from
affectation, at this time of day, in a country like England."

The knight, eyeing this censor with a look of disdain, replied, in a
solemn, lofty tone: "He that from affectation imitates the extravagancies
recorded of Don Quixote, is an impostor equally wicked and contemptible.
He that counterfeits madness, unless he dissembles, like the elder
Brutus, for some virtuous purpose, not only debases his own soul, but
acts as a traitor to Heaven, by denying the divinity that is within him.
I am neither an affected imitator of Don Quixote, nor, as I trust in
Heaven, visited by that spirit of lunacy so admirably displayed in the
fictitious character exhibited by the inimitable Cervantes. I have not
yet encountered a windmill for a giant, nor mistaken this public-house
for a magnificent castle; neither do I believe this gentleman to be the
constable; nor that worthy practitioner to be Master Elizabat, the
surgeon recorded in Amadis de Gaul; nor you to be the enchanter Alquife,
nor any other sage of history or romance; I see and distinguish objects
as they are discerned and described by other men. I reason