Hayikg an erraud one day, a short distaace from my place of resi Jence, I jumped into my one-borae wagon, and had jaat passed from the yard into the highway, when a gentleman on foot, with a small carpet-bag in his hand, attracted my notice, and as he was proceeding in the direction I was going, I asked him, according to country civility, If he would like to ride for a short distance! I sboald be rery glad to, sir. Immediately a quantity of old boots and shoes were thrngt one Bide, to make room for the feet of the stranger; for, to tell the whole truth, I was on my way to our parish cobbler, with some haif-dozen pairs of youngsters understrappers that needed see Can you tell me, air, said tha gentleman, as he took hiaseat, and laid his carpet-bag down before him, whereabouts the author of James Mountjoy lives? as I am told bis residence is somewhere in this vicimty. That is the place, sir, which you have just passed. The gentleman turned round, and gazed for some time, being only able to catch occasional glimpses of the lioose through the thick foliage of the trees, amid which it stood. And then, aftOT satisfying his onriosity, began to descant upon the merits of the work, having, probably, not the most distant idea that its author was beside him. Being somewhat of a bashful temperament, especially when not well dressed, as was certainly the case just then, having dropped my hoe in the garden, and taken tlie rema just as I was, it was not very clear what was duty, whether to sit incognito, and listen to a ati angers remarks about ones own production or just to tell him, UD authorly, as I then appeared, the simple truth.
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