I had walked now for nearly twelve hours without discovering any appearance of Sanchez's cabin, in which I had hoped to pass the night. My prairie experience assured me that I had not lost the “trail,” and yet if any light were burning for miles around, the elevated spot on which I stood should make it visible. Although much fatigued, there was nothing for it but to proceed, and at length I found myself in a narrow valley which Seth had heard described as the situation in which the miner's hut stood. It was dark and gloomy; but the hope that I was nearing the spot cheered me, and I walked on, footsore and tired as I was. Once or twice I thought I heard the bark of a dog. I stopped to listen; I shouted aloud, I whistled, but to no end. After an interval, however, the sounds were repeated, and now I could detect,—not the bark,—but the low, plaintive wail of an animal seemingly in pain. As it not unfrequently happens that the sheep-dogs are attacked by wolves, it immediately occurred to me such might be the present case; so I looked to the caps of my revolver, and hastened on in the direction of the cries.

The wailing sounds grew fuller and louder as I advanced, and now I could distinguish that they were the cries of an animal in grief, and not of one in bodily pain. I increased my speed to the utmost, and suddenly I felt the warm tongue of a dog touch my hand, and his tail brush my legs, in sign of friendly welcome. I stopped to pat and caress him, but the poor creature uttered another cry so full of sorrow that all other thoughts were routed on the instant.

He now preceded me, turning at each moment as if to see that I followed, and whining in a low, faint tone, as before. We had not long proceeded thus, when he stopped suddenly, and set up a cry the most shrill and heart-thrilling. I saw that we were in front of a miserable shealing, the door of which lay open; but all was dark within. I struck a light with my flint, and lighted a little taper. To my surprise, the hut contained several articles of furniture; but I had not more than time to notice them, when the dog, darting forward, placed his fore-paws upon a low settle-bed, and gave a dismal howl. I turned and beheld the figure of a very old man, his white beard hanging down to his chest, as he lay in what seemed a heavy sleep. I touched him; he was cold. I placed my hand on his heart; it was still. I tried to detect breathing; there was none—he was quite dead!

The poor dog appeared to watch me with intense interest, as, one by one, I tried these different signs of life; but when he saw the hand fall heavily from my own, he again set up his cries, which now lasted for several minutes. The scene was a sad and touching one. The poor old miner,—for such his dress and the scattered implements of the craft bespoke him,—forgotten by all the world save by his dog, lay in all the seeming calm of sleep. A cup of water stood near him, and a little wooden crucifix lay on the bed, where probably it had fallen from his fingers. Everything around betokened great poverty. The few articles of furniture seemed as if they had been fashioned by himself, being of the rudest workmanship: his lamp was a dried gourd, and his one chair had been a stump, hollowed out with a hatchet. The most striking feature of all was a number of printed paragraphs cut from old newspapers and magazines and nailed against the planking of the hut; and these seemed to convey a little history of the old miner, so far, at least, as the bent and object of his life were implied. They were all, without exception, exaggerated and high-flown accounts of newly discovered “Placers,”—rich mines of gold,—some in the dark plains of the Ukraine, some in the deep forests of Mexico, some in the interior of Africa and on the far-away shores of the Pacific. Promises of golden harvest, visions of wealth rolling in vast abundance, great oceans of gain before the parched and thirsting lips of toil and famine! Little thought they who, half in the wantonness of fancy, colored these descriptions, what seeds they were sowing in many a rugged nature! what feverish passions they were engendering! what lures to wile men on and on, through youth and manhood and age, with one terrible fascination to enslave them!

If many of these contained interesting scraps of adventure and enterprise in remote and strange countries, others were merely dry and succinct notices of the discovery of gold in particular places, announcements which nothing short of an innate devotion to the one theme could possibly have dwelt upon; and these, if I were to judge from the situations they occupied, were the most favored paragraphs, and those most frequently read over; they were the daily food with which he fed his hope, through, doubtless, long years of suffering and toil. It was the oil which replenished the lamp when the wick had burned to the very socket!

How one could fancy the old Gambusino as he sat before his winter fire, half dozing in the solitude of his uncompanionable existence, revelling in all the illusions with which his mind was filled! With what sympathy must he have followed his fellow-laborers in every far-away quarter of the globe! how mourned over their disappointments, how exulted in their successes! These little scraps and sentences were the only links that tied him to the world—they were all that spoke to him of his own species!

As I went about the hut, the appearance of the greatest poverty and privation struck me on every side: his clothing, worn to very tatters, had been mended by skins of beasts and patches of canvas; the tools with which he worked showed marks of rude repair that proved how “he to himself sufficed,” without aid from others.

I passed the night without sleep, my mind full of the melancholy picture before me. When day broke, I walked forth into the cool air to refresh myself, and found, to my astonishment, that the spot had been a Placer of once great repute,—at least so the remains around attested. The ruined framework of miners' huts; the great massive furnaces for smelting; huge cradles, as they are called, for gold-sifting; long troughs, formed of hollowed trunks, for washing,—lay scattered on all sides. The number of these showed what importance the spot had once possessed, and the rotten condition in which they now were proved how long it had been deserted by all save him who was now to take his rest where, for many a weary year, he had toiled and labored.

A little cross, decorated with those insignia of torture so frequently seen in Catholic countries,—the pincers, the scourge, and the crown of thorns,—showed where Piety had raised an altar beside that of Mammon; and underneath this I resolved to lay the poor old Gambusino's bones, as in a Christian grave. I could not divest my mind of the impression that some power, higher than mere chance, had led me to the spot to perform those last offices to the poor outcast. Having eaten my breakfast, which I shared with the dog, I set to work to fashion something that should serve as a coffin. There was timber in abundance, and the old miner's tools sufficed for all I needed. My labor, however, was only completed as night closed in, so that I was obliged to wait for morning to finish my task.

Wearied by my exertions, I slept soundly, and never awoke till the bright sunbeams pierced through the chinks of the log-hut, and streamed in amidst its dusky atmosphere; then I arose, and placed the old man in his coffin. I sat down beside it, and as I looked at the calm, cold features I could not help reflecting that even he had not been more an outcast from his fellows than I was myself. If fate had cast his lot in the solitude of this dreary region, he was not more alone in the world than I, who had neither home nor family. How strange was it, too, that it should have devolved upon me to pay him these last rites. No, no; this could not be accident. The longer I dwelt upon this theme, the more strongly was I impressed by this one conviction; and now, looking back, after the lapse of years, that feeling is but more confirmed by time.

Taking the shovel and the pick, I set forth to dig the grave, the poor dog following at my heels, as though knowing in what cause I was laboring. The earth was hard and stony, so that at first I made but little progress; but soon I reached a clayey soft soil, which again was succeeded by a dense, firm stratum of stones, impacted closely together, like a pavement made by hands; indeed, it was difficult to conceive it otherwise, the stones being so nearly of the same size, and laid down with a regularity so striking and purposelike. I proceeded to loosen them with the barreta, but, to my surprise, no sooner had I displaced this layer than another exactly similar displayed itself underneath. If this be “Nature's handiwork,” thought I, “it is the strangest thing I ever saw.” I labored hard to remove this second tier, and now came down upon a light gravelly soil, into which the barreta passed easily. Shall I own that it was with a sense of disappointment that I perceived this? It was not that my expectations had taken any distinct or palpable form, but their vagueness somehow had not excluded hope!

As I struck down the iron barreta into the light earth, I sat down and fell into a musing fit, from which the dog aroused me by licking my hands and looking up into my face, as though reproaching me for deserting my task. I arose at once, and set to work in right earnest. The grave was now full five feet in depth, and needed only to be made a little longer. It was after about an hour's hard labor, and my task was all but completed, when the barreta struck a stone which it was requisite to move; it was a large and heavy one, and much more firmly impacted in the earth than I at first supposed, and it was only by splintering it with the iron “crow” that I was able to succeed. As I lifted the fragments and threw them away, my hands came in contact with a soft substance underneath, that, to the feel, at least, resembled the skin of a beast with the wool or hair on. I cleared away the earth, and saw to my astonishment what I at once knew to be a piece of buffalo hide, smeared over with a peculiar oil the Indians use to prevent rotting or decomposition. I drew forth my knife and ripped it open; a strong skin of undressed buck was now laid bare; again I applied my knife vigorously to this, and as the sharp steel ran freely along, a glittering heap of gold disclosed itself before me, and rolled in fragments to my feet!

I cannot attempt to describe the emotions of that moment, as, with a heart bursting with delight, I ran my fingers through the heaps of shining metal, many of them larger than my closed fist. I pulled off my cap and filled it; I opened my handkerchief, and in a few moments that also was crammed; I stuffed my pockets; but the treasure seemed inexhaustible. I arose, and hastened to the hut for the great canvas bag in which the poor miner used to keep his chestnuts, and, oh, the terror that came over me now, lest I should be seen, lest any other should discover me! With the speed that fear alone can supply I soon filled the sack, not alone with gold, but also with several little leather bags, which I discovered contained gems and precious stones, emeralds principally, with opals, sapphires, and rubies, some of a size and color I had never seen equalled before. There were eight of these bags, marked with some enigmatical letters, of which I did not know the meaning, nor, in good truth, did I puzzle myself to discover. The wealth, unbounded as it seemed, needed no explanation; there it lay glittering upon the grass beneath the morning sun, and there I sat amidst it, as Aladdin might have sat amidst the treasures of his mine.

As I opened the bags one after another, in eager impatience, I came upon one filled with papers, and these I quickly discovered were receipts for deposits of large sums placed at various times in the hands of Don Xafire Hijaros, banker, at Guajuaqualla, by Menelaus Crick! Yes, these were the hidden treasures for which the Black Boatswain of Anticosti had endured the tortures of the burning iron and the steel, the terrible agonies of the flesh pincers, and the slow, lingering pains of paralysis. These, then, were the visions that haunted his dotage in the very night I had seen him, as he struggled in some imaginary conflict, and patted the ground in some fancied act of concealment! A sudden chill ran through me as I thought by what horrible deeds of crime and blood all this treasure might—nay, must—have been amassed! What terrible acts of murder and assassination! Many of the gems were richly set, and showed that they had been worn. Some of the emeralds had been extracted from ornaments, or taken from the hilts of daggers or swords. Violence and blood had stained them all, there could not be a doubt of it; and now there arose within me a strange conflict, in which the thirst for wealth warred with a feeling of superstition that whispered, “No luck could go with gain so bought!” The perspiration rolled in great drops down my face; my heart swelled and throbbed with its emotions; the arteries of my temples beat with a force that seemed to smite the very brain as I canvassed this vital question, “Dare I touch wealth so associated with deeds of infamy?”

If my wishes arranged themselves on one side, all my fears were marshalled on the other; and what foes can wage a more terrible conflict! The world, with its most attractive pleasures, its thousand fascinations, all the delusions that gold can buy and convert into realities, beckoned here. Horrible fancies of an unknown vengeance, a Nemesis in crime unexpiated, menaced there! May I never have to preside in a court where the evidence is so strongly opposed, where the facts are so equally balanced! If, at one instant, I beheld myself the gorgeous millionnaire, launching forth into the wide ocean of unexplored enjoyment, at the next I saw myself crawling upon the earth, maimed and crippled like the old negro slave; a curse upon me; the cries of widowed mothers ringing in my ears; the curses of ruined fathers tracking me wherever I went! I cannot tell what verdict my poor empanelled conscience might have brought in at last, but suddenly a new witness appeared in the court and gave a most decided turn to the case. This was no less than “the Church,” whose testimony gently insinuated that if the matter were one of difficulty, it was not yet without a solution. “It is true, Master Con,” whispered she, “that these treasures have an odor of rapine; but let us see if the Church cannot purify them. A silver lamp to the Virgin can throw a lustre upon deeds that have not 'loved the light.' An embroidered petticoat can cover a great many small sins, and the incense that rises from a gold censer, offered by pious hands, will do much to correct the pungency of even the saltest tears.”

Build a chapel, Con; endow a nunnery,—or, if you don't like shutting up young ladies, let it be a “monkery;” make an investment in hair-cloth shirts and cord girdles; buy shares in the grand Purgatory scheme, and take out “next world scrip,” in the shape of masses, jubilees, and novenas. You can keep a bishop, without feeling the cost, and have a whole candle manufactory perpetually at the service of “Our Lady,” without being obliged to curtail one of your own wax-lights. What a revulsion did this bright thought give to all my previous doubtings! not only satisfying my scruples here, but suggesting very comfortable associations for hereafter. By this proceeding, Con, thought I, you are “hedging against hereafter;” you may be a Sardanapalus while you live, and a saint after death: it's betting upon the “double event,” with all the odds in your favor.

I must say, for the sake of my credit, that I resolved to “do the thing handsomely.” I determined that a finer virgin should not be seen than mine, and that if a “Saint Cregan” could be discovered in the catalogue, I'd adopt him as my patron, at any cost. Neither would I forget the poor old miner in my pious offerings: he should have masses said for him for a full twelvemonth to come, and I 'd offer a silver pickaxe to any of the calendar who would deign to accept it. In a word, there was nothing that money could do (and what can it not?) that I would not engage to perform, so that the Church should consent to take me into partnership.

Never was a poor head exposed to such a conflict of discordant thoughts. Plans of pleasures and pilgrimages; gorgeous visions of enjoyment warring with fancies of sackcloth and scourges; sumptuous dinners, equipages, theatres, balls, and festivities mingling with fastings, processions, and mortifications, made up a chaos only a shade above downright insanity.

The day wore on, and it was late in the afternoon ere I bethought me of the poor Gambusino, beside whose open grave I still sat, lost in speculation. “Poor fellow!” said I, as I hoisted his coffin on my shoulder, “you have got a rich pall-bearer for one who died in such poverty; you little thought you would be borne to the grave by a millionnaire!” As I said this—I shame to own it—there was a tinge of self-commendation in the notion, as though inferring, “See what a noble fellow I am! with gold and gems such as an emperor might envy, and yet look at me, carrying a poor old miner's body to the grave just as if we were equals!”

“It's very handsome of you, Con,—that I must say!” whispered I to myself; but, somehow, the poor dog did not appear to take the same exalted notion of my magnanimity, but was entirely engrossed by his sorrow; for he lay crouching upon the earth, uttering cries the most piteous and heartrending at each shovelful I threw in the grave.

“Cheer up, poor fellow!” said I, patting him, “you shall have a gold collar and a clasp of real emerald.” How naturally does a rich man recur to wealth as the cure for every affliction! How difficult for him to believe that gold is not a sovereign remedy for all disorders!

As for the dog, poor brute! he took no more heed of my consolation than he noticed my altered condition,—of which, by his familiarity, he showed himself totally unconscious. How differently had he behaved, thought I, had he been a man! What sudden respect had he felt for me; what natural reluctance to obtrude himself on me; how honored by my notice, how distinguished by my favor! It is plain the dog is a very inferior animal; his perceptions are not fine enough to distinguish between the man of wealth and the pauper!

These and very similar reflections engaged me while I completed my task, after which I carried my precious burdens off, and deposited them within the hut. By this time I was very hungry, but had nothing to eat save the fragments that remained from my breakfast,—a singular meal for one who, in a fitting place, could have dined sumptuously and off vessels of gold and silver! I had the appetite of a poor man, however, and eat heartily; and then, taking my gourd of wine, sat down beside a little spring that issued from the rock, to think over my future.

Perhaps my whole life—not wanting in hours of pleasure and enjoyment—never presented anything so truly delightful as that evening.

The season of gratification which I had dreamed of, sighed, panted, and prayed for, was now to be mine. I was at last to be a “gentleman,”—so far, at least, as immense wealth and a very decided taste for spending it could make me. But were these, I flatteringly asked myself, all my qualifications? Was I not master of three or four languages? Had I not become an expert shot, an excellent rider, a graceful dancer, with some skill upon the guitar and the mandolin? Could I not contend in most exercises where strength and activity were required, with any? Had I not travelled and seen something of the world and its ways? Ay, marry, and a little more of both than was usual for young gentlemen of fortune!

Of personal advantages it might not become me to speak; but the truth requires me to say that Nature had dealt very handsomely by me. And now I ask of the fair reader,—the unfair one I put out of court on the occasion,—“Are not these very pretty chances with which to woo fortune?” Less sanguine spirits would perhaps have sighed for more, and asked for a hundred gifts, of whose use and value I knew nothing,—such as birth, family influence, and the like. As for me, I was content with the “hand of trumps” Fate had dealt me; I owned frankly that if I lost the game, it must be for lack of skill, and not of luck.

My plans were very simple. Once at Guajuaqualla, I should find out where Donna Maria de los Dolores lived, and then, providing myself with a suitable equipage and servants, I should proceed to pay my addresses in all form, affecting to have resumed my real rank and station, from which, on our first acquaintance, a passing caprice had withdrawn me. I anticipated, of course, very shrewd inquiries as to my family and fortune; but I trusted to “native wit” to satisfy these, secretly resolving at the time that I would avoid lying for the future. And À propos of this propensity, I had never indulged in it, save from that vagrant impulse that tempts a child to scamper over the flower-plat of a garden, instead of keeping to the gravel,—the great charm being found in the secret that it “was wrong.” And, oh, ye dear, good, excellent souls whose instincts are always correct, who can pass knockers on doors and not wish to wring them off; who see gas-lamps in lonely spots, and never think of breaking them; who neither “humbug” the stupid, nor mistify the vain; who “take life” seriously,—forgive the semi-barbarism of our Celtic tastes, which leads us to regard “fun” as the very honey of existence, and leads us to extract it from every flower in life's path!

When I “lied,”—as only the great “Pinto” ever lied more atrociously,—I was more amused by my own extravagances than were my listeners. I threw out my inventions among stupid folk as a rich man flings his guinea among a group of beggars, to enjoy the squabbling and contending for such an unlooked-for prize.

And now I was going to abandon the habit, as one unsuited to the responsibilities of a rich man's station! Oh, dear, what a sigh honest Jack Falstaff must have heaved when he swore “he would eschew sack and low company, and live cleanly.”

I now addressed myself more practically to my work, and, seeing that it would be quite impossible for me to carry the great bulk of my treasure to Guajuaqualla, I replaced the canvas sack, with the gold and some of the larger bags of the gems, in the ground, and merely took those that contained the paper securities, and some of the more valuable emeralds, along with me.

In parting with my wealth, even for a short absence, I confess my feelings were very poignant. A thousand fears beset me, and I turned to survey the spot beneath which it lay, wondering if there was any indication to mark the concealed riches below. All, however, looked safe and plausible; and I proceeded on my way, with a heart as easy as, I suppose, rich men's hearts are permitted to be!

I believe the road along which I journeyed lay in the midst of a fertile and pleasing tract,—I believe, I say; for I own I saw nothing of it. The river along which Ï walked seemed silver, molten silver, to me; the fruit-trees bore apples of pure gold; the stars which studded the morning sky seemed sapphires and diamonds; the dewdrops on the grass were opals all. If I sat down to rest myself, I instantly took one of my precious bags from my pocket, to gaze at the bright treasures it contained, and feast my eyes with brilliancy.

At last I found myself on the great high road, and, as the sign-post told me, only “trÈs lÉguas”—three leagues—from Guajuaqualla. For a few copper coins I obtained a seat upon a peasant's “carro,” and journeyed along more agreeably, secretly laughing to myself at the strange conveyance that carried “CÆsar and his fortunes.”

The peasant was an old man who lived by selling watermelons, gourds, and cucumbers in the city, and knew most of its well-known inhabitants. It was, therefore, a good opportunity for me to learn something of those in whom I was interested. He told me that the banker Don Xafire Hijaros had died several years ago, but that his son Manuel carried on the business, and was reputed to be the richest man in Guajuaqualla. It was said that the great wealth of the house had been accumulated in ways and by means that would not bear too close scrutiny. Large sums had been, it was alleged, lodged in his hands by negroes and Indians working at the mines, the owners of which were often made away with,—at least, few of those who made large deposits ever lived to claim them. The peasant told me several stories in illustration of this suspicion; but although they certainly did make an impression upon me, I attributed much to the exaggeration so common to every piece of local gossip, and I had seen enough in the world to know how frequently successful industry meets disparagement.

As for Don Estaban Olarez, the old man told me that he had once been extremely rich, but that certain speculations he had entered into having proved unfortunate, he had lost the greater part of his fortune, and lived now in a state of comparative retirement about a league from Guajuaqualla. This piece of news had not the depressing effect upon me it might be supposed, since I augured that a rich son-in-law would be less scrupulously interrogated by the broken merchant than by the millionnaire. I even speculated on the manner I should adopt to dazzle him by my splendor, and with what cold and cutting irony I would address the Fra Miguel, and thank him for the considerate kindness with which he had repaid my services. Haughty and proud, with a dash of condescension,—“that must be my tone,” said I; and so I went on, like my prototype in the Eastern tale, ruminating upon my power and my merciful disposition, till I had warmed my blood to a very good tyrant pitch, from which state I was aroused by the guard at the gate of the town asking if I had anything with me which should pay custom.

“A poor traveller with his knapsack,” said I, “may surely pass freely.”

“Vaya con Dios,” said he, carelessly, and I entered the city.

Although the little plain in which Guajuaqualla stands is more favorable as a site than the narrow gorge where Chihuahua is situated, the city itself is inferior to the latter. Built irregularly, not only as chance or caprice directed, but sharing in all the vicissitudes of speculation which the mines afforded, great palaces stand by the side of mean hovels, and gorgeous churches are flanked by abodes of squalid poverty. Streets, properly speaking, there were none. Each choosing the spot for his house at will, and as the city was founded in troubled times, when lawless violence was unrestrained,—the fortress-like character of the buildings was often conspicuous. Massive iron bars and stanchions protected the windows of the ground-floors; heavy fastenings secured the doors, whose surface was a fretwork of iron. Loop-holes for musketry usually guarded each side of the entrance, and a “grille,” like that of a convent, showed that no stranger could be admitted uninterrogated. Many of the houses were surrounded by regular outworks of moat and bastion, while here and there an old rusty cannon, half hid among the weeds, would show more pretentious, though possibly not very efficient, means of defence.

Of shrines, holy wells, and altars there was no end. The superstitious character of the Gambusino life had been adroitly laid hold of by the priests, who rarely fail to turn each phase of existence to their own profit, and, in this spot, the priestly hierarchy appeared to have nothing so near at heart as the success of the “Placers.” Here were pictured virgins, looking blandly down at a group of very ill-favored half-breeds, at a washing; there was an old negro presenting a massive lump of gold to St. Joseph, who, with a sly look, seemed to promise not to forget the donor. St. Francis himself, pick in hand, was seen laboring at the head of a sturdy gang of workmen, and angels of all sizes appeared to busy themselves in gold-seeking, as though it were their natural pastime.

Upon several of the altars, pieces of solid gold and silver lay, in a security that said much for the religious zeal of the inhabitants, while lamps of pure silver hung in a profusion on every side,—surrounded by votive offerings of the same metal,—such as shovels, barretas, picks, and sieves. Nor did piety limit itself merely to incentives to “stand well with the saints;” some most terrible examples of the opposite line of conduct were conspicuously displayed. Pictures representing dreadful catastrophes, by falling masses of rock, irruptions of torrents, and down-pouring cataracts, showed what fates were ever in store for those who “forgot the Church.” And, as if to heighten the effect, whenever a cayman or a jaguar was “sloping off” with a miner in his mouth, a respectable saint was sure to be detected in the offing, wiping his eyes in compassion, but not stirring a finger to his assistance.

I will not say that these specimens of pictorial piety induced any strong religious feeling to my mind, but they certainly amused me highly; and although hungry from a long fast, I stopped full twenty times on my way to the Posada to gaze and wonder at them.

At the “Mono” (the “Ape”), a beast which at first I mistook for a certain historical character to whom popular prejudice always vouchsafes a tail, I put up, and having discussed a very sumptuous breakfast, sent for the landlord, a little dark-visaged Jew from Pernambuco.

“I hear,” said I, arranging myself in an attitude of imposing elegance, “I hear, SeÑhor Maestro, that my people and equipages have not arrived yet, and I begin to feel a great anxiety for their safety. Can you learn from any of the Muleros if they have seen two carriages, with four mules each, on the Chihuahua road?”

“I have just inquired,” said the Jew, with a sly, almost impertinent leer, “and his Excellency's suite have not been seen.”

“How provoking!” said I, impatiently. “This comes of indulging that capricious taste for adventure which always inclines me to a solitary ramble among mountains. And now, here I am, without clothes, baggage, horses, servants,—in fact, with nothing that a person of my condition is accustomed to have about him.”

The Jew's face changed its expression during this speech, and, from a look of droll malice which it wore at first, assumed an air of almost open insolence as he said,—

“SeÑhor Viajador, I am too old to be imposed upon by these fooleries. The traveller who enters an inn on his feet, with ragged clothes and tattered shoes, takes too high a flight when he raves of equipage and followers.”

I bethought me of the lesson I once gave the mate of the transport ship at Quebec, and I lay back indolently in my chair and stared coolly at the Jew. “Son of Abraham,” said I, with a slow intonation, “take care what you say. I indulge in a vast variety of caprices, some of which the severe world calls follies; but there is one which I never permit myself,—namely, to suffer the slightest liberty on the part of an inferior. I give you this piece of information for your guidance, since it is possible that business with the banker Don Manuel Hijaros may detain me a few days in this place, and I desire that the lesson be not lost upon you.”

The Jew stood, while I delivered these words, a perfect ideal of doubt and embarrassment. The pretentious tone, contrasted with the ragged apparel, the air of insufferable pride, with all the semblance of poverty, and the calm composure of confidence, seemed to him singular features in one whose apparent destitution might have suggested humility.

“I see your embarrassment,” said I, “and I forgive your error; and now to business. I have several visits to pay in this neighborhood; my people may not arrive for a day or two; and I cannot afford the delay of waiting for them. Can you tell if there be anything suitable in the way of equipage for a man of rank to be had here? Something simple, of course, as befitting the place,—a plain carriage, with four mules,—if Andalusian, all the better; two lazadores, or outriders, will be sufficient, as I wish to avoid display; the liveries and equipment may be plain also.”

“There is at this moment, SeÑhor, the open carriage of the late Gobernador of Guajuaqualla to be sold,—he had not used it when he was called away by death: that and his six mules,—not Andalusian, it is true, but of the black breed of the Habannah,—are now at your Excellency's disposal.”

“And the price,” said I, not seeming to notice the half-impertinent smile that curled his lip as he spoke.

“Three thousand crowns, SeÑhor,—less than half their cost.”

“A mere trifle,” said I, carelessly, “if the carriage please me.

“Your Excellency can see it in the court beneath.”

I followed the Jew as he led the way into the open “cour,” and, after passing across it, we entered a spacious building, where, amidst a whole hospital of ruined and dilapidated calÈches, carres, and wagons, stood a most beautiful britscka, evidently imitated from some London or Parisian model. It was of a dark chocolate color, with rich linings of pale-blue silk. The arms of the late Gobernador were to have been painted on the doors, but fortunately were not begun when he died, so that the “carroza” seemed in every respect a private one. The Jew next showed me the team of mules, magnificent animals of fifteen and half hands in height, and in top condition. The harness and housings were all equally splendid and suitable.

“If your Excellency does not deem them unworthy of you,” said he, with a smile of most treacherous meaning, “they are certainly a great bargain. I have myself advanced fifteen hundred piastres upon them.”

“I'll take them,” said I, curtly; “and now for the servants.”

“The coachman and a few lacqueys are here still, your Excellency; but their liveries had not been ordered when the sad event occurred.”

“Send the first tailor in the place to my apartment,” said I; “and if there be a diamond merchant or a gem valuer here, let him come also.”

“I am myself a dealer in precious stones, your Excellency,” replied the Jew, with a more submissive air than he had yet exhibited.

“Come with me then,” said I; “for I always carry some of my less valuable trinkets about with me, as the least cumbrous mode of taking money.” Leaving the landlord in the sitting-room, I passed into my chamber, and speedily re-entered with a handsome emerald ring upon my finger, and a ruby brooch of great size in my breast.

The Jew's eyes were lit up with a lustre only inferior to that of the gems as he saw them, and in a voice tremulous with eagerness he said, “Will your Excellency dispose of these?”

“Yes,” said I, carelessly; “there are others also, which I am determined to turn into cash. What value would you put upon this ring?”

“Five hundred crowns, SeÑhor, if it be really as pure as it seems.”

“If that be your valuation, friend,” rejoined I, “I would be a purchaser, not a seller, in this city. That gem cost me six thousand piastres! To be sure, something of the price must be laid to the charge of historical associations. It was the present of the Sultan Al Hadgid ak Meerun-ak-Roon to the Empress Matilda.”

“Six thousand piastres!” echoed the Jew, whose astonishment stopped short at the sum, without any regard for the great names I had hurled at him.

“I believe I may have paid a trifle too much,” said I, smiling; “the Prince of Syracuse thought it dear! But then here is a much more valuable stone, which only cost as much;” and, so saying, I took from my pocket an immense emerald, which had once formed the ornament of a dagger.

“Ah, Dios! that is fine,” said the Jew, as he held it between him and the light; “and, were it not for the flaw, would be a rare prize!”

“Were it not for the flaw, friend,” said I, “it would still be where it stood for upwards of eight hundred years,—in the royal crown of Hungary, in the 'Schatzkammer' of Presburg. The Emperor Joseph had it mounted in his own poignard; from his hands it reached the Caltons of Auersberg; and then, at the value of six thousand piastres, by a wager, came into my own.”

“And at what price would you now dispose of it?” asked he, timidly.

“A friend might have it for ten thousand,” said I, calmly; “to the world at large the price would be twelve.”

“Ah, your Excellency, such sums rest not in our humble city! You must go to Madrid or Grenada for wealth like that.”

“So I suspect,” said I, coolly. “I will content myself with depositing them with my banker for the present; to sell them here would be a needless sacrifice of them.”

“And yet, SeÑhor, I would willingly be the purchaser of that gem,” said he, as he stood, fascinated by the lustre of the stone, from which he could not take his eyes. “If six thousand five hundred piastres—”

“I have said ten to a friend, my honest Israelite,” interrupted I.

“I am but a poor man, your Excellency,—a poor struggling, hard-working man,—content if he but gain the humblest profit by his labor; say, then, seven thousand piastres, and I will sell my mules to make up the amount.”

“I will say twelve, and not a doubloon less,” SeÑhor Judio; “but a friend may have it for ten.”

“Ah, if your 'Alteza' would but say eight! Eight thousand piastres counted down upon the table in honest silver,” said he; and the tears stood in his eyes as he supplicated.

“Be it so,” said I, “but upon one condition. Should you ever reveal this, or should you speak of the transaction in any way, there is no manner of evil and mischief I will not work you. If it cost me half my fortune, I will be your ruin; for I refused to part with that same to the Primate of Seville, and he would never forgive me if the story should reach his ears.”

The Jew wished the Patriarchs to witness his oath of secrecy; and though each of us was well aware that the other was lying, somehow we seemed satisfied by the exchange of our false coinage. I suppose we acted on the same principle as the thieves who could not keep their hands out of each other's pockets, although they knew well there was nothing there.

Whatever the Jew's suspicion of the means by which I had become possessed of such wealth, he prudently thought that he might reap more profit by falling in with my plans than by needlessly scrutinizing my character; and, so far, he judged wisely.

The contract for the carriage I completed on the spot, and having engaged the servants and ordered their liveries,—plain suits of brown, with gold tags, aiguilettes,—I gave directions for my own wearing apparel, in a style of costly magnificence that confirmed me in the title of “Alteza,” given by all who came in contact with me. These occupations occupied the entire morning, and it was only late in the afternoon that I had spare time to recreate myself by a walk in the garden of the inn before dinner,—a promenade which, I am free to own, was heightened in its enjoyment by the rich rustling sounds of my heavy silk robe-dÈ-chambre, and the soft, downy tread of my velvet slippers on the smooth turf. It was a delicious moment! the very birds seemed to sing a little paean of rejoicing at my good luck; the flowers put forth their sweetest odors as I passed; and I felt myself in ecstasy with the whole creation, and in particular with that segment of it called Con Cregan. And there be folk in this world would call this egotism and vanity; ay, and by worse names too! As if it was not the very purest philanthropy—as if my self-content did not spring from the calm assurance that the goods of fortune were bestowed in the right direction, and that the goddess whom men call “fickle” was in reality a most discriminating deity!

There are no two things in creation less alike than a rich man and a poor one! Not only do all their thoughts, feelings, and affections run in opposite channels, but their judgments are different; and from the habit of presenting particular aspects to the world, they come at last to conform to the impressions conceived of them by the public. The eccentricities of wealth are exalted into fashions,—the peculiarities of poverty are degraded to downright vices.

“Oh, glorious metal!” exclaimed I, as I walked along, “that smooths the roughest road of life, that makes the toughest venison savory, and renders the rudest associates civil and compliant, what insolence and contumely had I not met with here, in this poor 'Posada,' had I only been what my humble dress and mean exterior denoted; and now, what is there that I cannot exact, what demands can I make, and hear that they are impossible!”

“His Excellency's dinner is served,” said the host, as he advanced, with many a low and obsequious salutation, to announce my dinner.

I suppose that the cookery of the “Mono” was not of the very highest order, and that if presented before me now, it would meet but sorry acceptance from my more educated palate; but at the time I speak of, it seemed actually delicious. There appeared to arise faint odors, of savory import, from dishes whose garlic would now almost suffocate me, and I luxuriated in the flavor of wine, every glass of which would, at this day, have put my teeth on edge. If my enjoyment was great, however, I took care not to let it appear too palpable; on the contrary, I criticised and condemned with all the fastidiousness of a spoiled nature, and only condescended to taste anything on the perpetual assurance of the host that “though very different from what his Excellency was used to, it was exactly to the taste of the late 'Gobernador.'”

I felt all the swelling importance of wealth within me as I beheld the cringing lacqueys and the obsequious host, who never dared to carry himself erect in my presence; the very meats seemed to send up an incense to my nostrils. The gentle wind that shook the orange-blossoms seemed made to bear its odors to my senses; all Nature appeared tributary to my enjoyment. And only to think of it! all this adulation was for poor Con Cregan, the convict's son; the houseless street-runner of Dublin; the cabin-boy of the yacht; the flunkey at Quebec; the penniless wanderer in Texas; the wag of the “Noria,” in Mexico. What a revulsion, and how sudden and unexpected!

It now became a matter of deep consideration within me how I should support this unlooked-for change of condition, without betraying too palpably what the French would call my “antecedents.” As to my “relatives,”—forgive the poor pun,—they gave me little trouble. I had often remarked in life that vulgar wealth never exhibits itself in a more absurd and odious light than when indulging in pleasures of which the sole enjoyment is the amount of the cost. The upstart rich man may sit in a gallery of pictures where Titian, Velasquez, and Vandyck have given him a company whose very countenances seem to despise him, while he thinks of nothing save the price. If he listen to Malibran, the only sense awakened is the cost of her engagement; and hence that stolid apathy, the lustreless gaze, the unrelieved weariness, he exhibits in society, where it is the metal of the “mind” is clinking, and not the metal of the “mint.” To a certain extent I did not incur great danger on this head: Nature had done me some kind services, the chief of which was, she had made me an Irishman!

There may seem—alas! there is too great cause that there should seem—something paradoxical in this boast, now, when sorrow and suffering are so much our portion; but I speak only of the individuality which, above every other I have seen or heard of, invests a man with a spirit to enjoy whatever is agreeable in life. Now, this same gift is a great safeguard against the vulgarity of purse-pride, since the man who launches forth upon the open sea of pleasure is rarely occupied by thoughts of self.

As for me, I felt a kind of gluttony for every delight that gold can purchase. What palaces I would inhabit; what equipages I would drive; what magnificent fÊtes I would give; what inimitable little dinners, where beauty, wit, and genius alone should be gathered together; what music should I possess in “my private band;” what exotics in my conservatory; and how I should dispense these fascinations; what happiness would I diffuse in the circle in which I moved, and what a circle would that be! It was to this precise point my buoyant fancy had brought me, as the second flask of champagne, iced almost to a crystal, had warmed me into a glow of imaginative enthusiasm. I fancied myself in a gilded saloon, where, amid the glare of a thousand wax-lights, a brilliant company were assembled. I thought that at each opening of the folding-door a servant announced some name, illustrious from position or great in reputation, and that around me, as I stood, a group was gathered of all that was distinguished in the world of fashion or celebrity. “Your Royal Highness has made this the proudest day of my life,” said I, rising, and bowing reverentially before a faded old arm-chair. “May I offer your Eminence a seat,” continued I to a red sofa-cushion I mistook for a cardinal. “Your Excellency is most heartily welcome,” said I to an empty decanter. And so did I convert every adjunct of the chamber into some distinguished personage, even, to my fast expiring lamp, which, with a glimmering flame and a nauseous odor, was gradually dying away, and which I actually addressed as a great ambassador!

After this, I conclude that I must have imagined myself in the East,—possibly taking a cup of sherbet with the Sultan, or a chibouk with the Khan of Tammerkabund; for when I became conscious once more, I found myself upon the hearthrug, where I had been enjoying a delicious sleep for some hours.

“Would his Excellency desire to see his chamber?” asked the landlord, as, with a branch of candles, he stood in the doorway.

I waved my hand in sign of assent, and followed him.