with a sort of mock gravity, "are fixed, doubtless, upon wisdom; folly
can only intrude on your sleeping moments."

"Over thine," retorted the Dwarf, more splenetically than became a
philosopher or hermit, "folly exercises an unlimited empire, asleep or
awake."

"Lord bless us!" said the lady, "he's a prophet, sure enough."

"As surely," continued the Recluse, "as thou art a woman.--A woman!--I
should have said a lady--a fine lady. You asked me to tell your
fortune--it is a simple one; an endless chase through life after follies
not worth catching, and, when caught, successively thrown away--a chase,
pursued from the days of tottering infancy to those of old age upon his
crutches. Toys and merry-makings in childhood--love and its absurdities
in youth--spadille and basto in age, shall succeed each other as
objects of pursuit--flowers and butterflies in spring--butterflies
and thistle-down in summer--withered leaves in autumn and winter--all
pursued, all caught, all flung aside.--Stand apart; your fortune is
said."

"All CAUGHT, however," retorted the laughing fair one, who was a cousin
of Miss Vere's; "that's something, Nancy," she continued, turning to
the timid damsel who had first approached the Dwarf; "will you ask your
fortune?"

"Not for worlds," said she, drawing back; "I have heard enough of
yours."

"Well, then," said Miss Ilderton, offering money to the Dwarf, "I'll pay