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 drowsiness², with a slight headache, which I was uncharitable enough to attribute to the mead¹ which I had drank on the preceding day. After feeding my horse, and breakfasting, I proceeded on my wanderings. Nothing occurred worthy³ of relating till mid-day was considerably⁴ 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 bridle⁵, when, on my right, behind a bank in which some umbrageous⁶ ashes were growing, I 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 nostrils⁷ of so small an animal, but must rather come from those of a giant, so loud and sonorous⁸ was it. About two or three yards further 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. Impelled⁹ by curiosity, I fastened the bridle of my horse to the gate, and went up to the man. He was a genteely-dressed individual, rather corpulent, with dark features, and seemingly about forty-five. He lay on his back, his hat slightly over his brow, and at his right hand lay an open book. So

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