"I am used to these scenes," replied Walter; "I am weary of the thoughts
they produce in me, and long for any diversion or excitement."

"Ay, ay, young man! The mind is restless at your age--have a care.
Perhaps you long to visit the world--to quit these obscure haunts which
you are fatigued in admiring?"

"It may be so," said Walter, with a slight sigh. "I should at least like
to visit our great capital, and note the contrast; I should come back, I
imagine, with a greater zest to these scenes."

Aram laughed. "My friend," said he, "when men have once plunged into the
great sea of human toil and passion, they soon wash away all love and
zest for innocent enjoyments. What once was a soft retirement, will
become the most intolerable monotony; the gaming of social existence--
the feverish and desperate chances of honour and wealth, upon which the
men of cities set their hearts, render all pursuits less exciting,
utterly insipid and dull. The brook and the angle--ha!--ha!--these are
not occupations for men who have once battled with the world."

"I can forego them, then, without regret;" said Walter, with the
sanguineness of his years. Aram looked upon him wistfully; the bright
eye, the healthy cheek, and vigorous frame of the youth, suited with his
desire to seek the conflict of his kind, and gave a naturalness to his
ambition, which was not without interest, even to the recluse.

"Poor boy!" said he, mournfully, "how gallantly the ship leaves the port;
how worn and battered it will return!"

When they parted, Walter returned slowly homewards, filled with pity