It was a fine summer morning when he made the visit; he had a horse of his own now, and a servant if he chose, but he preferred to-day to go alone. He found Mr. —— had discontinued his school, and was entirely buried in his books; only reading morning and evening prayers, and a homily, or one of his old sermons in the Church on Sundays. He never left his study on other days, except for a turn in his little garden. His house was by the wayside, with a small paved court before the hall; and by the side of this court, the garden, into which the window of the study, in a gabled wing adjoining the hall, looked towards the road. He was pleased to see Inglesant, though he very dimly remembered him, and questioned him of his studies. Johnny read him some Plato with the Jesuit’s comments, of which the old gentleman took notes eagerly, and afterwards incorporated them in his book. The book he was writing was upon Talismanic figures, but he was not particular what he put into it; anything of an occult and romantic character being welcome, and introduced with not a little ingenuity. He had no sense nor understanding of anything else in the world but such subjects and his books; and being exceedingly infirm, he could scarcely lift some of the larger folios which lay heaped about him within reach. He blessed God that his eyesight was so good, and that he could still read Greek—the contracted Greek type of that day. After some conversation, Inglesant opened his mind to him, told him what he had been reading, and asked his opinion. The old scholar pricked up his ears, and set to work with great delight, taking notes all the time; and Johnny found, years afterwards, when he happened to read his book in London, that all he told him was introduced into it.