and elephants and spotted tigers; and above all there was a picture of a
great whale, as big as a ship, stuck full of harpoons, and three boats
sailing after it as fast as they could fly.

Then, too, we had a large library-case, that stood in the hall; an old
brown library-case, tall as a small house; it had a sort of basement,
with large doors, and a lock and key; and higher up, there were glass
doors, through which might be seen long rows of old books, that had been
printed in Paris, and London, and Leipsic. There was a fine library
edition of the Spectator, in six large volumes with gilded backs; and
many a time I gazed at the word "London" on the title-page. And there
was a copy of D'Alembert in French, and I wondered what a great man I
would be, if by foreign travel I should ever be able to read straight
along without stopping, out of that book, which now was a riddle to
every one in the house but my father, whom I so much liked to hear talk
French, as he sometimes did to a servant we had.

That servant, too, I used to gaze at with wonder; for in answer to my
incredulous cross-questions, he had over and over again assured me, that
he had really been born in Paris. But this I never entirely believed;
for it seemed so hard to comprehend, how a man who had been born in a
foreign country, could be dwelling with me in our house in America.

As years passed on, this continual dwelling upon foreign associations,
bred in me a vague prophetic thought, that I was fated, one day or
other, to be a great voyager; and that just as my father used to
entertain strange gentlemen over their wine after dinner, I would
hereafter be telling my own adventures to an eager auditory. And I have
no doubt that this presentiment had something to do with bringing about
my subsequent rovings.