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n； sitting down by the roadside； I opened the letter。 It proved to be not a letter； but a poem； which he had evidently written after I had left him for bed。 It was entitled； with twenty's love for a tag of Latin； Ad Puellam Auream； and it ran thus：
The Golden Girl in every place Hides and reveals her lovely face； Her neither skill nor strength may find 'T is only loving moves her mind。 If but a pretty face you seek； You'll find one any day or week； But if you look with deeper eyes； And seek her lovely； pure； and wise； Then must you wear the pilgrim's shoon For many a weary； wandering moon。
Only the pure in heart may see That lily of all purity； Only in clean unsullied thought The image of her face is caught； And only he her love may hold Who buys her with the spirit's gold。
Thus only shall you find your pearl； O seeker of the Golden Girl！ She trod but now the grassy way； A vision of eternal May。
The devil take his impudence！ 〃Only the pure in heart；〃 〃clean； unsullied thought。〃 How like the cheek of twenty！ And all the same how true！ Dear lad； how true！ Certainly； the child is father to the man。 Dirige nos！ O sage of the Golden Twenties！
As I meditatively folded up the pretty bit of writing； I made a resolution； but it was one of such importance that not only is another chapter needed to do it honour； but it may well inaugurate another book of this strange uneventful history。
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH I DECIDE TO BE YOUNG AGAIN
Yes； I said to myself； the lad is quite right； I will follow his advice。 I'm afraid I was in danger of developing into a sad cynic； with a taste for the humour of this world。 What should have been a lofty high…souled pilgrimage； only less transcendental than that of the Holy Grail itself； has so far failed； no doubt； because I have undertaken it too much in the wanton spirit of a troubadour。
I will grow young and serious again。 Yes； why not？ I will take a vow of Youth。 One's age is entirely a matter of the imagination。 From this moment I am no longer thirty。 Thirty falls from me like a hideous dream。 My back straightens again at the thought； my silvering hair blackens once more； my eyes； a few moments ago lacklustre and sunken； grow bright and full again； and the whites are clear as the finest porcelain。 Veni； veni； Mephistophile！ your Faust is young again；young； young； and； with a boy's heart； open once more to all the influences of the mighty world。
I bring down my stick upon the ground with a mighty ring of resolution； and the miracle is done。 Who would take me for thirty now？ From this moment I abjure pessimism and cynicism in all their forms； put from my mind all considerations of the complexities of human life； unravel all by a triumphant optimism which no statistics can abash or criticism dishearten。 I likewise undertake to divest myself entirely of any sense of humour that may have developed within me during the baneful experiences of the last ten years； and； in short； will consent for the future to be nothing that is not perfectly perfect and pure。 These； I take it； are the fundamental conditions of being young again。
And as for the Quest； it shall forthwith be undertaken in an entirely serious and high…minded spirit。 From this moment I am on the look…out for a really transcendental attachment。 No 〃bright…eyed bar…maids；〃 however 〃refined；〃 need apply。 Ladies who are prodigal of their white petticoats are no longer fit company for me。 Indeed I shall no longer look upon a petticoat； unless I am able first entirely to spiritualise it。 It must first be disinfected of every earthly thought。
Yes； I am once more a young man； sound in wind and limb； with not a tooth or an illusion lost； my mind tabula rasa； my heart to be had for the asking。 Oh； come； ye merry； merry maidens！ The fairy prince is on the fairy road。
Incipit vita nuova！
So in the lovely rapture of a new…born resolutionand is there any rapture like it？ nature has no more intoxicating illusion than that of turning over a new leaf； or beginning a new life from to…dayI sprang along the road with a carolling heart； quite forgetting that Apuleius and Fielding and Boccaccio were still in my knapsacknot to speak of the petticoat。
CHAPTER II
AT THE SIGN OF THE SINGING STREAM
Apuleius and Fielding and Boccaccio； bad companions for a petticoat； I'm afraid； bad companions too for so young a man as I had now become。 However； as I say； I had for the time forgotten that pagan company； or； in my puritanic zeal； I might have thrown them all to be washed clean in the upland stream； whose pure waters one might fancy were fragrant from their sunny day among the ferns and the heather； fragrant to the eye； indeed； if one may so speak； with the shaken meal of the meadowsweet。 This stream had been the good angel of my thoughts all the day； keeping them ever moving and ever fresh； cleansing and burnishing them； quite an open…air laundry of the mind。
We were both making for the same little town； it appeared； and as the sun was setting we reached it together。 I entered the town over the bridge； and the stream under it； washing the walls of the high…piled； many…gabled old inn where I proposed to pass the night。 I should hear it still rippling on with its gentle harpsichord tinkle； as I stretched myself down among the cool lavendered sheets； and little by little let slip the multifarious world。
The inn windows beamed cheerily； a home of ruddy rest。 Having ordered my dinner and found my room； I threw down my knapsack and then came out again to smoke an ante…prandial pipe； listen to the evensong of the stream； and think great thoughts。 The stream was still there； and singing the same sweet old song。 You could hear it long after it was out of sight； in the gathering darkness； like an old nurse humming lullabies in the twilight。
The dinner was good； the wine was old； and oh！ the rest was sweet！ Nothing fills one with so exquisite a weariness as a day spent in good resolutions and great thoughts。 There is something perilously sensuous in the relaxation of one's muscles； both of mind and body； after a day thus well spent。
Lighting up my pipe once more； and drawing to the fire； I suddenly realised a sense of loneliness。 Of course； I was lonely for a book；Apuleius or Fielding or Boccaccio！
An hour ago they had seemed dangerous companions for so lofty a mood； but now； under the gentle influences of dinner； the mood had not indeed changedbut mellowed。 So to say； we would split the difference between the ideal and the human； and be； say； twenty…five。
It was in this genial attitude of mind that I strode up the quaint circular staircase to fetch Fielding from my room； and； shade of Tom Jones！ what should be leaving my room； as I advanced to enter it； butwell； it's no use； resolutions are all very well； but facts are facts； especially when they're natural； and here was I face to face with the most natural little natural fact； and withal the most charming and merry…eyed； that well； in short； as I came to enter my room I was confronted by the roundest； ruddiest little chambermaid ever created for the trial of mortal frailty。
And the worst of it was that her merry eye was in partnership with a merry tongue。 Indeed； for some unexplained reason； she was bubbling over with congested laughter； the reason for which mere embarrassment set one inquiring。 At last； between little gushes of laughter which shook her plump shoulders in a way that aroused wistful memories of Hebe； she archly asked me； with mock solemnity； if I should need a lady's maid。
〃Certainly；〃 I replied with inane promptitude； for I had no notion of her drift； but then she ran off in a scurry of laughter； and still puzzled I turned into my room； TO FIND； neatly hung over the end of the bed； nothing less than the dainty petticoat and silk stockings of Sylvia Joy。
You can imagine the colour of my cheeks at the discovery。 No doubt I was already the laughing…stock of the whole inn。 What folly！ What a young vixen！ Oh； what's to be done？ Pay my bill and sneak off at once to the next town； but how pass through the grinning line of boots； and waiter； and chambermaid； and ironically respectful landlord and landlady； in the hall 。 。 。
But while I thus deliberated； something soft pressed in at the door； and； making a sudden dart； I had the little baggage who had brought about my dilemma a prisoner in my arms。
I stayed some days at this charming old inn； for Amaryllisoh； yes； you may be sure her name was Amaryllishad not betrayed me； and indeed she may have some share in my retrospect of the inn as one of the most delightful which I encountered anywhere in my journeying。 Would you like to know its name？ Well； I know it as The Singing Stream。 If you can find it under that name； you are welcome。 And should you chance to be put into bedroom No。 26； you can think of me； and how I used to lie awake； listening to the stream rippling beneath the window； with its gentle harpsichord tinkle； and little by little letting slip the multifarious world。
And if anything about this chapter should seem to contradict the