“Here we are,” said Reuben, while Sam dismounted and began to take off the boxes.

The front door opened and a fat negro woman, apparently startled by the arrival of the wagon, made her appearance, asking: 

“What de debbil all dis, chillun?”

“Here are some books that are to be put into the library, Aunt Katie, and this young man is to unpack and arrange them,” answered the overseer.

“More books:  my hebbinly Lord, what ole marse want wid more books, when he nebber here to read dem he has got?” exclaimed the fat woman, raising her hands in dismay.

“That is none of our business, Katie!  What we are to do is to obey orders; so, if you please, let us have the keys,” replied Gray.

The woman disappeared within the house and remained absent for a few minutes, during which the men lifted the boxes from the wagon.

By the time they had set down the last one Katie reappeared with her heavy bunch of keys and beckoned them to follow her.

Ishmael obeyed, by shouldering a small box and entering the house, while Reuben Gray and Sam took up a heavy one between them and came after.

It was a noble old hall, with its walls hung with family pictures and rusty arms and trophies of the chase; with doors opening on each side into spacious apartments; and with a broad staircase ascending from the center.

The fat old negro housekeeper, waddling along before the men, led them to the back of the hall, and opened a door on the right, admitting them into the library of Tanglewood.

Here the men set down the boxes.  And when they had brought them all in, and Sam, under the direction of Gray, had forced off all the tops, laying the contents bare to view, the latter said: 

“Now then, Ishmael, we will leave you to go to work and unpack; but don’t you get so interested in the work as to disremember dinner time at one o’clock precisely; and be sure you are punctual, because we’ve got veal and spinnidge.”

“Thank you, Uncle Reuben, I will not keep you waiting,” replied the youth.

Gray and his assistant departed, and Ishmael was left alone with the wealth of books around him.

CHAPTER XL.

THE LIBRARY.

  Round the room are shelves of dainty lore,
  And rich old pictures hang upon the walls,
  Where the slant light falls on them; and wrought gems,
  Medallions, rare mosaics and antiques
  From Herculaneum, the niches fill;
  And on a table of enamel wrought
  With a lost art in Italy, do lie
  Prints of fair women and engravings rare.

  —­N.P.  Willis.

It was a noble room; four lofty windows—­two on each side—­admitting abundance of light and air; at one end was a marble chimney-piece, over which hung a fine picture of Christ disputing with the doctors in the temple; on each side of this chimney-piece were glass cases filled with rare shells, minerals, and other curiosities; all the remaining spaces along the walls and between the windows were filled up with book-cases; various writing tables, reading stands, and easy-chairs occupied the center of the floor.