set against the back wall and bearing these lines--
"Peace to this house within this little wood, Named of St. Swithun and his brotherhood That here would meet and punctual on his day Their heads and hands and hearts together lay. Nor may no years the mem'ries three untwine Of Grylls W.G. And Arundell G.A. And Constantine J.C. Anno 1752 Flvmina amem silvasqve inglorivs."
Of these two friends of my father I shall speak in their proper place, but have given up this first chapter to him alone. My readers maybe will grumble that it omits to tell what they would first choose to learn: the reason why he had exchanged fame and the world for a Cornish exile. But as yet he only--and perhaps my uncle Gervase, who kept the accounts--held the key to that secret.
I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE.
"Heus Rogere! fer caballos; Eja, nunc eamus!" Domum.
At Winchester, which we boys (though we fared hardly)
Starts out generally light and comedic, but at about half to two-thirds through grows more serious. In all, a somewhat complex but masterfully written romantic adventure written by one well versed in the art of being a gentleman. I recommend it highly.