profession. He had been a printer in the Provinces; but having put all his capital into a new invention in printing, it had not been long before he found himself a bankrupt. He was a cousin of Marceline; and Theophrastus, who was a good soul, had come to his aid in the hour of his gravest trouble.
Theophrastus sat down on a straw-seated chair in a little room which served as workshop, and was lighted by a large, dusty skylight in the ceiling.
"You 're a scientific man, Ambrose," he said, still gloomily.
"Nothing of the kind!" said Ambrose quickly.
"Yes; you are. No one could teach you anything in the matter of paper."
"Oh, yes: that's true enough. I do know paper."
"You know all papers," said Theophrastus.
"All," said Ambrose with modest pride.
"If one showed you a piece of paper you could tell the age of it?"
"Yes; I have published a monograph on the water-marks of the papers used in France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Academy crowned it."
"I know it. And I have the fullest confi-
