We found ourselves in a large room, scant of chairs and tables, but so amply stocked with books, globes, maps, stuffed animals, cases of insects, geological specimens, and odd-looking machines and instruments, that we could scarcely find room to stand. A bright fire burned on the wide hearth, yet the whole place had a mouldy air and odour, and looked like a magician's chamber. A lamp suspended from the ceiling, and burning rather dimly, gave a spectral effect. Its circle of light was shed over a square table covered with papers, and by which sat a singular-looking man--one of the numberless magicians of modern times, clad, it is true, in every-day attire, but whose characteristic features, swarthy complexion, and white hair and beard, needed not the flowing robe or mystic belt to seem impressive. He was too intent on examining some important beetle through a magnifying glass to notice our insignificant approach, more than by a certain waving motion of the hand, implying the absolute necessity of silence on our part, and on his the utter impossibility of attending to us. At length he looked up, and fastening a pair of piercing black eyes on Cornelius, he addressed him with the abrupt observation: "Sir, I am intensely busy, but you are welcome; pray be seated." Cornelius looked round: there was but one chair free, he gave it to me, remained standing himself, and, turning to Mr. Thornton, observed, "I am come, Sir, on the matter I mentioned in my letter of Wednesday last, and which you have not, I dare say, had leisure to answer." Mr. Thornton did not reply; he sat back in his chair looking at Cornelius from head to foot. "Sir!" he said, in a tone of incredulous surprise, "you are young--very. I don't know you." Cornelius reddened, and stiffly handed his card, which Mr. Thornton negligently dropped. "I cannot say I have ever heard of Cornelius O'Reilly," he remarked; "but I have been years away. You may be famous for all I know; but, I repeat it, you are very young, Sir." He spoke with an air of strong and settled conviction. "I claim no celebrity," drily replied Cornelius, "and my age has nothing to do with my errand. I am come to--" here he stopped short, on perceiving that Mr. Thornton, after casting several longing looks at his beetle, had gradually, like a needle attracted by a potent magnet, been raising the magnifying glass to the level of his right eye, which it no sooner reached, than he made a sudden dart down at the table; but, when the voice of Cornelius ceased, he started, looked up, and said, with a sigh of regret, "You came to have some difficult point settled? Well, Sir, though I have only been three days in England, I do not complain; but you see this fascinating specimen; I beseech you to be brief." He laid down the magnifying glass, and wheeled away his chair from the reach of temptation. "I am come to give, not to seek, information," quietly answered Cornelius.