TOM BROWN'S
CHAPTER III
ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND
"Let Nature be your teacher:
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous form of things
We murder to dissect—
Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives."—Wordsworth.
BOUT six weeks after the beginning of the half, as Tom and Arthur were sitting one night before supper beginning their verses, Arthur suddenly stopped, and looked up, and said: "Tom, do you know anything of Martin?"
"Yes," said Tom, taking his hand out of his back hair, and delighted to throw his Gradus ad Parnassum onto the sofa; "I know him pretty well. He's a very good fellow, but as mad as a hatter. He's called Mad-
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