'Tis the Rose of the garden walled round from the croft Where the grey roof its warden steep riseth aloft, 'Tis the Rose 'neath the oaken-beamed hall, where they bide, The pledges unbroken, the hand of the bride. Hallblithe heard the song, and half thought it promised him somewhat; but then he had been so misled and mocked at, that he scarce knew how to rejoice at it.
That book-shelves lined the rectangular portion of this strange study I divined, although that end of the place was dark as a catacomb. The walls were wood-panelled, and the ceiling was oaken-beamed. A small book shelf and tumble-down cabinet stood upon either side of the table, and the celebrated American author and traveller lay propped up in a long split-cane chair.