now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so far away, had not only heard of ernest, but had meditated much upon his character, until he deemed nothing so desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wisdom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of his life. one summer morning, therefore, he took passage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the afternoon, alighted from the cars at no great distance from ernest's cottage. the great hotel, which had formerly been the palace of mr. gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet, with his carpet-bag on his arm, inquired at once where ernest dwelt, and was resolved to be accepted as his guest.