lections of a man who had been five years in South America seemed
to set me on fire.

"Plenty of time yet, my boy," he said, showing white teeth in a pleasant
smile; "they are in the docks at Southampton, on board ship. Wait a
bit, and you shall see all."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

I FIND MYSELF A BROTHER NATURALIST.

I stood looking very hard at our visitor, Doctor Burnett, and thought
how very different he was to Aunt Sophia. Only a little while before, I
had felt as if I must hate him for behaving so badly to Nap, and for
talking to me in such a cold, contemptuous way. It had seemed as if he
would join with Aunt Sophia in making me uncomfortable, and I thought it
would have been so much pleasanter if he had stayed away.

But now, as I stood watching him, he was becoming quite a hero in my
eyes, for not only had he been abroad seeing the wonders of the world,
but he had suddenly shown a liking for me, and his whole manner was
changed.

When he had spoken to me in the house it had been in a pooh-poohing sort
of fashion, as if I were a stupid troublesome boy, very much in the way,
and as if he wondered at his sister and brother-in-law's keeping me upon
the premises; but now the change was wonderful. The cold distant manner
had gone, and he began to talk to me as if he had known me all my life.

"Shall we go round the garden again, Dick?" said my uncle, after
standing there nodding and smiling at me, evidently feeling very proud
that his brother-in-law should take so much notice of the collection.

"No," said our visitor sharply. "There, get your pipe, Joe, and you can
sit down and look on while I go over Nat's collection. We naturalists
always compare notes--eh, Nat?"

I turned scarlet with excitement and pleasure, while Uncle Joseph rubbed
his hands, beaming with satisfaction, and proceeded to take down his
long clay pipe from where it hung upon two nails in the wall, and his
little tobacco jar from a niche below the rafters.

"That's what I often do here, Dick," he said; "I sit and smoke and give
advice--when it is asked, and Nat goes on with his stuffing and
preserving."

"Then now, you may sit down and give advice--when it is asked," said our
visitor smiling, "while Nat and I compare notes. Who taught you how to
stuff birds, Nat?"

"I--I taught myself, sir," I replied.

"Taught yourself?" he said, pinching one of my birds--a starling that I
had bought for a penny of a man with a gun.

"Yes, sir; I