covered with vines that only a patch of its gray stone could be seen here and there through the green.
The porch opened into a lofty hall, with oak floor and walls and furniture; and old pictures of ladies and gentlemen in queer costumes; and stags' heads, and stuffed birds, and weapons, and armor,—but Paul could only get a passing glimpse of all these things, for the gentleman hurried him into a long, low—studded dining-room, where the big table was laid for one, and called to a man-servant, who looked as old as his master, "Another plate, William!"
That was a delightful luncheon. Between courses, Paul's host asked what he carried in his tin box? And Paul opened it, and spread all the contents on the white table-cloth, and proudly confided to this friendly listener his plan of a private museum.
"Upon my word!" said the old gentleman; and as Paul, growing enthusiastic,
