who is glad of a good listener.

"In the outskirts of the Forest of Arden," he began again, "stands
the Abbey of Thelema--the only abbey which is bounded by no wall
and in which there is no clock at all nor any dial. And what need is
there of knowing the time when one has for companions only comely and
well-conditioned men and fair women of sweet disposition? And the motto
of the Abbey of Thelema is _Fais ce que voudra_--Do what you will; and
many of those who dwell in the Forest of Arden will tell you that they
have taken this also for their device, and that if you live under the
greenwood tree you may spend your life--as you like it."

I acknowledged that this claim was probably well founded, since I
recalled a song of the foresters in which they declared themselves
without an enemy but winter and rough weather.

"Yes," he went on, "they are fond of singing in the Forest of Arden,
and they sing good songs. And so they do in the fair land beyond where
I have never been, and which I can never hope to go to see for myself,
if all that they report be true--and yet what would I not give to see
it and to die there."

And as he said this sadly, his voice sank into a sigh.

"And where does the road through the forest lead, that you so much wish
to set forth upon it?" I asked.

"That's the way to Arcady," he said--"to Arcady where all the leaves
are merry. I may not go there, though I long for it. Those who attain
to its borders never come back again--and why should they leave it? Yet
there are tales told, and I have heard that this Arcady is the
veritable El Dorado, and that in it is the true Fountain of Youth,
gushing forth unfailingly for the refreshment of all who may reach it.
But no one may find the entrance who cannot see it by the light that
never was on land or sea."

"It must be a favored region," I remarked.

"Of a truth it is," he answered; "and on the way there is the orchard
where grow the golden apples of Hesperides, and the dragon is dead now
that used to guard them, and so any one may help himself to the
beautiful fruit. And by the side of the orchard flows the river Lethe,
of which it is not well for man to drink, though many men would taste
it gladly." And again he sighed.

I knew not what to say, and so waited for him to speak once more.

"That promontory there on the weather bow," he began again after a few
moments' silence, "that is Barataria, which was long supposed to be an
island by its fo