y specimen which nobody
will believe to be genuine, except the men of science, and of which the
discreet reader may have a glimpse by application in the proper quarter.

Elsie had gathered so many of these sculpture-like monstrosities, that
one might have thought she had robbed old Sophy's grandfather of his
fetishes. They helped to give her room a kind of enchanted look, as if a
witch had her home in it. Over the fireplace was a long, staff-like
branch, strangled in the spiral coils of one of those vines which strain
the smaller trees in their clinging embraces, sinking into the bark until
the parasite becomes almost identified with its support. With these
sylvan curiosities were blended objects of art, some of them not less
singular, but others showing a love for the beautiful in form and color,
such as a girl of fine organization and nice culture might naturally be
expected to feel and to indulge, in adorning her apartment.

All these objects, pictures, bronzes, vases, and the rest, did not detain
Mr. Richard Veneer very long, whatever may have been his sensibilities to
art. He was more curious about books and papers. A copy of Keats lay on
the table. He opened it and read the name of Bernard C. Langdon on the
blank leaf. An envelope was on the table with Elsie's name written in a
similar hand; but the envelope was empty, and he could not find the note
it contained. Her desk was locked, and it would not be safe to tamper
with it. He had seen enough; the girl received books and notes from this
fellow up at the school, this usher, this Yankee quill-driver;--he was
aspiring to become the lord of the Dudley domain, then, was he?

Elsie had been reasonably careful. She had locked up her papers,
whatever they might be. There was little else that promised to reward
his curiosity, but he cast his eye on everything. There was a
clasp-Bible among her books. Dick wondered if she ever unclasped it.
There was a book of hymns; it had her name in it, and looked as if it
might have been often read;--what the diablo had Elsie to do with hymns?

Mr. Richard Venner was in an observing and analytical state of mind, it
will be noticed, or he might perhaps have been touched with the innocent
betrayals of the poor girl's chamber. Had she, after all, some human
tenderness in her heart? That was not the way he put the question,--but
whether she would take seriously to this schoolmaster, and if she did,
what would be the neat