fond of the horrible," I thought, and I
took up another. This was on bull-baiting, cock-fighting, and other
cruel sports. Another was a book on poisons. A sixth, on the various
modes of self-defence. A seventh, a book on field sports. I put down the
book for a moment and sat musing, trying to imagine to myself what
manner of man the Baron might be. I gazed round the room, and noticed
that it was hung round by trophies of the chase--stags' antlers, foxes'
brushes, intermingled with guns, powder-flasks, etc. Here and there were
hung half suits of armour, belonging, no doubt, to the Baron's
ancestors.

Then, from musing I fell into a dose, and dreamed of the wild hunter and
all sorts of curious and horrible things.

On awaking I reflected that I had not been over the house, so I went in
search of the housekeeper, who asked me if I would like to see the
picture gallery. Nothing loth, I followed my guide, who pointed me out
the portraits of the present Baron's ancestors for I know not how many
generations back.

The portrait of the present Baron was not amongst them. I noticed a
strong family likeness running through all of the portraits, and I
wondered if the Baron inherited the likeness. I asked the housekeeper,
and she assured me that he did in a very striking degree. On leaving the
gallery, I passed through long oaken corridors, through immense chambers
hung with tapestry, on which were depicted either battles or scenes of
the chase.

"The Baron inherits the tastes of his ancestors, it would appear," I
said to the matron.

"Ah! sir," said she, with a sigh, and tried to force a smile, but it was
a bitter one.

I took little notice of her expression at the time, and soon after left
her, to stroll about in the garden. It was a spacious one, laid out in
good taste. There were terraces, broad velvet lawns, cedars of Lebanon,
avenues of yew trees, glimpses of distant hills, flower beds, luxuriant
with every variety of the choicest flowers. There were broad walks and
serpentine paths, oaks, beeches, elms; a lake with an island in the
middle, which was reached by a rustic bridge; weeping-willows,
summer-houses, and everything that could be desired. I strolled about
the garden, struck with admiration every step I took at the exquisite
taste with which everything was carried out, and wondered how it was
that the same mind which took such delight in the horrible should
possess such exquisite refinement of taste in the plan