PART IV.




CHAPTER I.


I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning, day
comes to him with a virgin's love, full of bloom and purity and
freshness. The youth of Nature is contagious, like the gladness of a
happy child. I doubt if any man can be called "old" so long as he is an
early riser and an early walker. And oh, youth!--take my word of it--
youth in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over breakfast at noon, is
a very decrepit, ghastly image of that youth which sees the sun blush
over the mountains, and the dews sparkle upon blossoming hedgerows.

Passing by my father's study, I was surprised to see the windows
unclosed; surprised more, on looking in, to see him bending over his
books,--for I had never before known him study till after the morning
meal. Students are not usually early risers, for students, alas!
whatever their age, are rarely young. Yes, the Great Book must be
getting on in serious earnest. It was no longer dalliance with
learning; this was work.

I passed through the gates into the road. A few of the cottages were
giving signs of returning life, but it was not yet the hour for labor,
and no "Good morning, sir," greeted me on the road. Suddenly at a turn,
which an over-hanging beech-tree had before concealed, I came full upon
my Uncle Roland.