As he entered Williamsburg, he came very near being overturned by a gentleman who was leaving that metropolitan city, at full gallop. "Hey!" cried this gentleman, reining up; "why, good day, Mowbray!" And Sir Asinus made a bow of grotesque respect. "Whither away, my dear fellow--to that den of iniquity, the grammar school, eh?" "Yes," said Mowbray, smiling; "and you?" "I go to other fields and pastures new--to those Hesperian gardens famed of old, and so forth. Come with me!" "No, thank you. I suppose you are going to see a lady?" "Precisely; and now do you still refuse?" "Yes." "You are an ungallant book-worm, a misogynist--and that is the next thing to a conspirator. Leave your books, and come and taste of sylvan joys." "Where are you going?" "To see Dulcinea." "Who is she?" "Her other name is Amaryllis." "Well, sing to her," said Mowbray; "for my part, I am going to visit Plato, Justinian, Blackstone, whose lectures are better than Virgil's heroics, and Coke, who is more learned, if not more agreeable, than any Hesperians. Farewell." And Mowbray saluted Sir Asinus with a smile, and rode on. The knight returned his salute, and continued his way in the opposite direction. Now, as our history concerns itself rather with Amaryllis than Plato or Coke, we shall permit Mowbray to go on, and retracing our steps, follow Sir Asinus to his destination. Sir Asinus on this morning is magnificent, and finds the air very pleasant after his long imprisonment. He inhales it joyously, and in thought, nay, often in words, invokes confusion on the heads of proctors. He is in full enjoyment of those three great rights for which he has sacrificed so much--namely, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He is joyous, for he has stolen a march upon the watchful guardians of the college; he revels in the sentiment of freedom; and believes himself in pursuit of that will o' the wisp called happiness. He sings, as he goes onward on his hard-trotting courser, the words of that song which we have heard him sing before: "Hez! sire asne! car chantez Belle bouche rechignez;" and is not mortified when a donkey in the neighboring meadow brays responsively. He bends his steps toward Shadynook, where he arrives as the matutinal meal is smoking on the board; and this Sir Asinus partakes of with noble simplicity. One would have imagined himself in presence of Socrates dining upon herbs, instead of Sir Asinus comforting his inner man with ham and muffins. After breakfast, Aunt Wimple, that excellent old lady whose life was completely filled by a round of domestic duties, banished her visitor to the sitting-room. To make his exile more tolerable, however, she gave him Belle-bouche for a companion.