"Then, again," cried Barecolt, "when I defended the pass in the Cevennes, with only two godly companions, against the Count de Suza and a hundred and fifty bloodthirsty Papists--you must surely have heard of that exploit." "I cannot say I have," replied Mr. Dry. "Then, sir, you are ignorant of the history of Europe," answered the other with a look of high indignation; "for trust the name of Deciduous Barecolt is known from the mouth of the Elbe to the mouth of the Danube, and will descend to posterity upon the stream of time, only rendered imperishable by that which destroys other things. Goodnight, Mr. Dry. Now, Master Randal, I am ready to accompany you. Shall we sing a psalm before we go?" "No," replied Randal abruptly, and picking up his hat, he led the way out of the room. The inn was situated near the extremity of the town; and at the distance of about two hundred paces from the door, the two strangers emerged from between the lines of houses, and found themselves among the hedgerows. Without any hesitation as to the track which he was to pursue, the younger gentleman mounted a stile to the right, and took a path which, crossing the fields, wound gradually up over one slope after another till it reached the brow of the hill on which Bishop's Merton House was placed. It was a fine clear moonlight night; and at the distance of about a mile from the mansion, they caught a sight of its wide front, extending along the hill till the wings were concealed by a little wood, behind which, as they walked on, the whole building was speedily lost. "It is a fine old place," said Barecolt to his companion; "it always puts me in mind of the Escurial." "More likely puts you in mind of the stocks," said Randal; "for you have both seen and felt the one, and never set eyes upon the other." "How can you tell that I never saw it?" exclaimed his companion; "you have not had the dandling of me ever since I was a baby in arms." "Heaven forbid!" cried Randal; "but I am sure you never have seen it, because you say you have. However, you must either speak truth to-night or hold your tongue. I did not stop you in your course of gasconade with that roundheaded knave at the inn, because I knew that you must void a certain quantity of falsehood in the day, and it was necessary to get rid of it before you came up here; for this young lord is not one to take counterfeit coin." "The monster!" exclaimed Barecolt; "there is not a more cruel or barbarous creature in the earth than the man who drives from his door all the sweet little children of the imagination which you call lies. He is wanting in all human charity. Give me the generous and confiding soul who believes everything that is said to him, and enjoys the story of a traveller who relates to him wild scenes in lands he never has visited, just as much as if it were all as true as history----"