osophical system, was in itself an entry,
or passage-way to other rooms, and systems of rooms--a whole suite of
entries, in fact. Going through the house, you seem to be forever going
somewhere, and getting nowhere. It is like losing one's self in the
woods; round and round the chimney you go, and if you arrive at all,
it is just where you started, and so you begin again, and again get
nowhere. Indeed--though I say it not in the way of faultfinding at
all--never was there so labyrinthine an abode. Guests will tarry with
me several weeks and every now and then, be anew astonished at some
unforseen apartment.

The puzzling nature of the mansion, resulting from the chimney, is
peculiarly noticeable in the dining-room, which has no less than nine
doors, opening in all directions, and into all sorts of places. A
stranger for the first time entering this dining-room, and naturally
taking no special heed at which door he entered, will, upon rising to
depart, commit the strangest blunders. Such, for instance, as opening
the first door that comes handy, and finding himself stealing up-stairs
by the back passage. Shutting that, he will proceed to another, and be
aghast at the cellar yawning at his feet. Trying a third, he surprises
the housemaid at her work. In the end, no more relying on his own
unaided efforts, he procures a trusty guide in some passing person, and
in good time successfully emerges. Perhaps as curious a blunder as any,
was that of a certain stylish young gentleman, a great exquisite, in
whose judicious eyes my daughter Anna had found especial favor. He
called upon the young lady one evening, and found her alone in the
dining-room at her needlework. He stayed rather late; and after
abundance of superfine discourse, all the while retaining his hat and
cane, made his profuse adieus, and with repeated graceful bows proceeded
to depart, after fashion of courtiers from the Queen, and by so doing,
opening a door at random, with one hand placed behind, very effectually
succeeded in backing himself into a dark pantry, where he carefully shut
himself up, wondering there was no light in the entry. After several
strange noises as of a cat among the crockery, he reappeared through
the same door, looking uncommonly crestfallen, and, with a deeply
embarrassed air, requested my daughter to designate at which of the nine
he should find exit. When the mischievous Anna told me the story, she
said it was surprising how unaffected