A little farther on, in an arm-chair, so placed that the sunbeams light up his bent figure, and glisten in his snow-white hair, making it seem like a halo of glory about his head, sits a very old man. He is tracing with his stick letters in the sand; while a boy, some six or seven years old, is pronouncing their names, giving a scream of joy every time he finds, by the old man’s smile, that he is right. "Hubert," says his father’s cheerful voice, "Father Paul will let you leave your lesson now. Run and meet uncle Guy; he is coming up the hill." Away runs the boy right joyously, his sister not so far behind; and when they return, little Eleanor is seated on a tall horse, in front of a young man in student’s dress, and Hubert is leading the horse by the bridle. Young Guy had joined his brother and sister after his mother’s death, and was now making rapid progress toward distinction in a German college. His frank manners and bright, merry face make him a welcome everywhere, and the children receive him with joyful shouts. "My new pony is to come home to-morrow, uncle Guy!" says little Eleanor, jumping up and down with glee, for he has dismounted himself and her, and is greeting her parents. "Gerhard is to train him for me, and I mean to call him Rollo, after the horse you were riding when papa and mamma came out of prison." "Uncle Guy!" says Hubert, in a lower but no less eager tone, his face crimsoned with delight, "Father Paul says I know all my letters now, and to-morrow I am to begin in Papa’s big book!" "I am glad to hear that, my boy," Sir Guy says kindly; "we will have you at Wittemberg soon, I think. But now I want a moment with Father Paul. White Star is not very tired, and if you can get Bertrand or Gerhard to hold you on, you might ride him round the outer court." Away go the happy children, and Sir Guy turns to the old monk, now chaplain of the castle--for after the death of his sister, and the cruel murder of his friend, Lord Cobham, he had joined the exiles in Germany. "Is there any news, my son?" says the good old man. "Not much, father, save that there is some stir about this new invention which some men say comes straight from the Devil, while others are equally certain that it has descended from heaven." "Ah! you mean the wonderful art of printing," said Father Paul; "both parties have somewhat of truth in their assertions. Old men can see deeper into the depths of the future than young men; and those who, like me, are drawing very near the golden gates, are permitted to see, though but dimly, far down the slope of time into days that are to come; and I see, in this way of multiplying books, a great curse and a great blessing for the world. Have you seen any of the work?" "That have I, Father--several works; and I have brought you here one sheet, that you may see it for yourself." The old man takes the sheet with trembling hands; it is the first chapter of Matthew’s gospel.