CHAPTER XXII.
The Singular Noise--Sleeping in a Meadow--The Book--Cure for Wakefulness--Literary Tea Party--Poor Byron.
I did not awake till rather late the next morning; and when I did, I felt considerable drowsiness, with a slight headache, which I was uncharitable enough to attribute to the mead which I had drunk on the preceding day.
After feeding my horse, and breakfasting, I proceeded on my wanderings.
Nothing occurred worthy of relating till mid-day was considerably past, when I came to a pleasant valley, between two gentle hills.

I had dismounted, in order to ease my horse, and was leading him along by the bridle, when, on my right, behind a bank in which some umbrageous ashes were growing, heard a singular noise.

I stopped short and listened, and presently said to myself, "Surely this is snoring, perhaps that of a hedgehog." On further consideration, however, I was convinced that the noise which I heard, and which certainly seemed to be snoring, could not possibly proceed from the nostrils of so small an animal, but must rather come from those of a giant, so loud and sonorous was it.

About two or three yards farther was a gate, partly open, to which I went, and peeping into the field, saw a man lying on some rich grass, under the shade of one of the ashes; he was snoring away at a great rate.

Impelled by curiosity, I fastened the bridle of my horse to the gate, and went up to the man.