The lock resisted somewhat, being rusty, as might well be supposed after so
many years since it was opened; but it finally allowed the key to turn,
and Septimius, with a good deal of flutter at his heart, opened the lid.
The interior had a very different aspect from that of the exterior; for,
whereas the latter looked so old, this, having been kept from the air,
looked about as new as when shut up from light and air two centuries ago,
less or more. It was lined with ivory, beautifully carved in figures,
according to the art which the mediaval people possessed in great
perfection; and probably the box had been a lady's jewel-casket formerly,
and had glowed with rich lustre and bright colors at former openings. But
now there was nothing in it of that kind,--nothing in keeping with those
figures carved in the ivory representing some mythical subjects,--nothing
but some papers in the bottom of the box written over in an ancient hand,
which Septimius at once fancied that he recognized as that of the
manuscript and recipe which he had found on the breast of the young
soldier. He eagerly seized them, but was infinitely disappointed to find
that they did not seem to refer at all to the subjects treated by the
former, but related to pedigrees and genealogies, and were in reference to
an English family and some member of it who, two centuries before, had
crossed the sea to America, and who, in this way, had sought to preserve
his connection with his native stock, so as to be able, perhaps, to prove
it for himself or his descendants; and there was reference to documents
and records in England in confirmation of the genealogy. Septimius saw
that this paper had been drawn up by an ancestor of his own, the
unfortunate man who had been hanged for witchcraft; but so earnest had
been his expectation of something different, that he flung the old papers
down with bitter indifference.

Then again he snatched them up, and contemptuously read them,--those proofs
of descent through generations of esquires and knights, who had been