The old gentleman was seated in an easy-chair a little way into the room, having the glass-door on his right hand.

On a table before him lay a large open volume, in which I observed Roman letters as well as characters.

A few inches beyond the book on the table, covered all over with hieroglyphics, stood a china vase.

The eyes of the old man were fixed upon it.
"Sit down," said he, motioning me with his hand to a stool close by, but without taking his eyes from the vase.
"I can't make it out," said he, at last, removing his eyes from the vase, and leaning back on the chair; "I can't make it out." "I wish I could assist you," said I.
"Assist me," said the old man, looking at me, with a half smile.
"Yes," said I, "but I don't understand Chinese." "I suppose not," said the old man, with another slight smile; "but--but.

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