I'll have a private, pensive¹ single life.  
THE COLLIER OF CROYDON.
 
 
 
I was sitting in my room a morning or two since, reading, when some one tapped at the door, and Master Simon entered. He had an unusually fresh appearance; he had put on a bright green riding-coat, with a bunch of violets in the button-hole, and had the air of an old bachelor trying to rejuvenate² himself. He had not, however, his usual briskness³ and vivacity⁴, but loitered about the room with somewhat of absence of manner, humming the old song,—"Go, lovely rose, tell her that wastes her time and me;" and then, leaning against the window, and looking upon the landscape, he uttered a very audible sigh. As I had not been accustomed to see Master Simon in a pensive mood, I thought there might be some vexation preying⁵ on his mind, and I endeavoured to introduce a cheerful strain of conversation; but he was not in the vein⁶ to follow it up, and proposed that we should take a walk.
 
It was a beautiful morning, of that soft vernal temperature, that seems to thaw⁷ all the frost out of one's blood, and to set all nature in a ferment⁸. The very fishes felt its influence: the cautious trout⁹ ventured out of his dark hole to seek his mate, the roach and the dace rose up to the surface of the brook¹⁰ to bask¹¹ in the sunshine, and the amorous¹² frog piped from among the rushes. If ever an oyster¹³ can really fall in love, as has been said or sung, it must be on such a morning.
 
The weather certainly had its effect even upon Master Simon, for he seemed obstinately¹⁴ bent¹⁵ upon the pensive mood. Instead of stepping briskly along, smacking¹⁶ his dog-whip, whistling quaint¹⁷ ditties, or telling sporting anecdotes¹⁸, he leaned on my arm, and talked about the approaching nuptials¹⁹; from whence he made several digressions upon the character of womankind, touched a little upon the tender passion, and made sundry²⁰ very excellent, though rather trite²¹, observations upon disappointments in love. It was evident that he had something on his mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. I was curious to see to what this strain would lead; but I was determined²² not to assist him. Indeed, I mischievously²³ pretended to turn the conversation, and talked of his usual topics, dogs, horses, and hunting; but he was very brief in his replies, and invariably got back, by hook or by crook²⁴, into the sentimental²⁵ vein.
 
 
Master Simon in Love
At length we came to a clump²⁶ of trees that overhung a whispering brook, with a rustic²⁷ bench at their feet. The trees were grievously scored with letters and devices, which had grown out of all shape and size by the growth of the bark: and it appeared that this grove²⁸ had served as a kind of register of the family loves from time immemorial. Here Master Simon made a pause, pulled up a tuft of flowers, threw them one by one into the water, and at length, turning somewhat abruptly²⁹ upon me, asked me if ever I had been in love. I confess the question startled me a little, as I am not over fond of making confessions³⁰ of my amorous

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