The colonel squatted down on the floor cloth of the tent and began to show us one by one the various literary treasures from his pigskin library.

The whole box of books was so designed that it weighed only sixty pounds, and was thus within the limit of a porter's load.
Some of the books were well stained from frequent use and from contact with the contents of his saddle-bags.

Whenever he went on a hunt he carried one or more of these little volumes, which he would take out and read from time to time when there was nothing else to do.

He never seemed to waste a moment.
His pride in the library was evident, and the fondness with which he brought forth the books was the fondness of an honest enthusiast.
"Some people don't consider Longfellow a great poet, but I do," he said, as he showed a little volume of the poet's works.

"Lowell is represented here, but I think, toward the end of his life, he became too much Bostonian.