I was walking through the Gay Street House, looking over some of the furniture my father had accumulated. My father, who seemed in the background, busy with something else, apparently was planning to sell several pieces of his furniture, most of which appeared to be antiques, mostly bureaus displaying different shapes of mirrors. Several were quite nice, but they would be too expensive for me to afford. I looked more closely at the handles on the drawers of one; the handles were shaped in the form of an eagle with a shield on its chest.

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