"That I can well believe," said Dr. Godfrey. "Have these agreeable
recitations made you acquainted with the new poem on the _Seasons_
by Mr. James Thomson?"

"No," replied Mr. Belamour, "my acquaintance with the _belles letters_
ceased nine years ago."

"The descriptions have been thought extremely effective. Those of
autumn were recalled to my mind on my way."

Dr. Godfrey proceeded to recite some twenty lines of blank verse, for
in those days people had more patience and fewer books, and exercised
their memories much more than their descendants do. Listening was far
from being thought tedious.


"'But see the fading many-coloured roads,
Shade deepening over shade, the country round
Imbrown; a crowded umbrage, dusk and dim,
Of every hue, from wan, declining green,
To sooty dark.'"


The lines had a strange charm to one who had lived in darkness through
so many revolving years. Mr. Belamour eagerly thanked his friend, and
on the offer to lend him the book, begged that it might be ordered for
him, and that any other new and interesting work might be sent to him
that was suitable to the fair lips on which he was dependent.