decided, some momentous question to ask, might he but hope for a
reply. As it was evident, however, that I could have nothing to do
with his private affairs, I passed through an open doorway, which
admitted me into the extensive hall of the museum.

Directly in front of the portal was the bronze statue of a youth
with winged feet. He was represented in the act of flitting away
from earth, yet wore such a look of earnest invitation that it
impressed me like a summons to enter the hall.

"It is the original statue of Opportunity, by the ancient sculptor
Lysippus," said a gentleman who now approached me. "I place it at
the entrance of my museum, because it is not at all times that one
can gain admittance to such a collection."

The speaker was a middle-aged person, of whom it was not easy to
determine whether he had spent his life as a scholar or as a man of
action; in truth, all outward and obvious peculiarities had been
worn away by an extensive and promiscuous intercourse with the
world. There was no mark about him of profession, individual
habits, or scarcely of country; although his dark complexion and
high features made me conjecture that he was a native of some
southern clime of Europe. At all events, he was evidently the
virtuoso in person.

"With your permission," said he, "as we have no descriptive
catalogue, I will accompany you through the museum and point out
whatever may be most worthy of attention. In the first place, here
is a choice collection of stuffed animals."