Meanwhile Linden rode slowly onwards. As he passed that turn of the
town by which he had for the first time entered it, the recollection
of the eccentric and would-be gypsy flashed upon him. "I wonder,"
thought he, "where that singular man is now, whether he still
preserves his itinerant and woodland tastes,--

'Si flumina sylvasque inglorius amet,'
["If, unknown to fame, he love the streams and the woods."]

or whether, as his family increased in age or number, he has turned
from his wanderings, and at length found out 'the peaceful hermitage?'
How glowingly the whole scene of that night comes across me,--the wild
tents, their wilder habitants, the mingled bluntness, poetry, honest
good-nature, and spirit of enterprise which constituted the chief's
nature; the jovial meal and mirth round the wood fire, and beneath the
quiet stars, and the eagerness and zest with which I then mingled in
the merriment. Alas! how ill the fastidiousness and refinement of
after days repay us for the elastic, buoyant, ready zeal with which
our first youth enters into whatever is joyous, without pausing to ask
if its cause and nature be congenial to our habits or kindred to our
tastes. After all, there really was something philosophical in the
romance of the jovial gypsy, childish as it seemed; and I should like
much to know if the philosophy has got the better of the romance, or
the romance, growing into habit, become commonplace and lost both its
philosophy and its enthusiasm. Well, after I leave Mordaunt, I will
try and find out my old friend."

With this resolution Clarence's thoughts took a new channel, and he
soon entered upon Mordaunt's domain. As he rode through the park
where brake and tree were glowing in the yellow tints which Autumn,