But whether the action was right or wrong, and I am afraid it was not altogether right, I undid the packet: it contained three books; two from their similarity seemed to be separate parts of one and the same work; they were handsomely bound, and to them I first turned my attention.

I opened them successively, and endeavoured to make out their meaning; their contents, however, as far as I was able to understand them, were by no means interesting: whoever pleases may read these books for me, and keep them, too, into the bargain, said I to myself.
I now took up the third book: it did not resemble the others, being longer and considerably thicker; the binding was of dingy calf-skin.

I opened it, and as I did so another strange thrill of pleasure shot through my frame.

The first object on which my eyes rested was a picture; it was exceedingly well executed, at least the scene which it represented made a vivid impression upon me, which would hardly have been the case had the artist not been faithful to nature.

A wild scene it was--a heavy sea and rocky shore, with mountains in the background, above which the moon was peering.