All of his domestic arrangements were carried on after this frugal fashion.

In the little room was a writing-desk, covered with manuscripts and commonplace books.
"Well, my young friend, you're thrice welcome," said Andrew, who never dropped his book language.

"What will you have?
Will you resume your apprenticeship under Goethe, or shall we canter to Canterbury with Chaucer?
Grand old Dan Chaucer! Or, shall we study magical philosophy with Roger Bacon--the Friar, the Admirable Doctor?
or read good Sir Thomas More?
What would Sir Thomas have said if he could have thought that he would be admired by two such people as you and I, in the woods of America, in the nineteenth century?
But you do not want books! Ah! my brave friend, you are not well.

Come into my cell and let us talk.

What grieves you ?" And Andrew took him by the hand with the courtesy of a knight, with the tenderness of a woman, and with the air of an astrologer, and led him into the apartment of a monk.
[Illustration: THE SEDILIUM AT THE CASTLE.] "See!" he said, "I have made a new chair.