CHAPTER VI.
A DIALOGUE, WHICH MIGHT BE DULL IF IT WERE LONGER.
THREE days after the arrival of St.John, I escaped from the crowd of impertinents, seized a volume of Cowley, and, in a fit of mingled poetry and melancholy, strolled idly into the park.

I came to the margin of the stream, and to the very spot on which I had stood with my uncle on the evening when he had first excited my emulation to scholastic rather than manual contention with my brother; I seated myself by the water-side, and, feeling indisposed to read, leaned my cheek upon my hand, and surrendered my thoughts as prisoners to the reflections which I could not resist.
I continued I know not how long in my meditation, till I was roused by a gentle touch upon my shoulder; I looked up, and saw St.John.
"Pardon me, Count," said he, smiling, "I should not have disturbed your reflections had not your neglect of an old friend emboldened me to address you upon his behalf." And St.John pointed to the volume of Cowley which he had taken up without my perceiving it.
"Well," added he, seating himself on the turf beside me, "in my younger days, poetry and I were better friends than we are now.

And if I had had Cowley as a companion, I should not have parted with him as you have done, even for my own reflections." "You admire him then ?" said I.
"Why, that is too general a question.

I admire what is fine in him, as in every one else, but I do not love him the better for his points and his conceits.

He reminds me of what Cardinal Pallavicino said of Seneca, that he 'perfumes his conceits with civet and ambergris.' However, Count, I have opened upon a beautiful motto for you:-- "'Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, Hear the soft winds above me flying, With all their wanton boughs dispute, And the more tuneful birds to both replying; Nor be myself too mute.' "What say you to that wish?
If you have a germ of poetry in you such verse ought to bring it into flower." "Ay," answered I, though not exactly in accordance with the truth; "but I have not that germ.