text:  Oh laurelled scholar--sun-bright intellect--"foremost man of all this world"--how often did I make out of thy immortal volume a pillow to support my wearied brow as at evening on my homeward road I used to turn into some silent field where I might give way unobserved to the reveries which besieged me! I wondered and found no end of wondering at the revolution that one short year had made in my happiness