A friendship, sir, I'll not conceal.
You cause my fancies back to fly
To youth's bright days, when fearless I,
Like you, would dash through passes where
A slip had sent me past all care;
But now those joyous moments seem
Like wanderings in a pleasant dream,
And never will return, I fear.
But, see, my garden-gate is here."
He led the way, with fish in hand;