"The three objects of discourse that first
spontaneously strike your mind, and take your
attention," said he, more to himself than to his
companions; "certainly they were the red wine,
the bishop, and the apples. "Why did my mind
fix on those in preference to all the other things
spoken of? Aha! there is the force of the
cabala. I multiply the number of the first
object by that of the second, and thus get 1050.
I multiply this again by the number of the third,
and this gives me 2100."

"But what is the connexion," said Carlo, with
something almost like a groan, "between red
wine and the number 33, or between a bishop
and number 32?"

"What is the connexion," returned the old
man, sharply; "does not every one know that
there is a profound and mystical relation between
certain numbers and every object in nature and
art, and every act which a man can do? Are
they not recorded in the book which contains
the result of the life-long labours of the greatest
sages of the generations past?" And putting his
hand in the pocket of the threadbare old long
frock-coat, which hung loosely on his attenuated
figure as on a clothes-horse, he pulled forth a
dirty, greasy, and well-thumbed volume,
entitled "Fortune for all Men. A Book of Dreams
for Players in the Lottery. The last improved
edition, published at Florence, in 1858." "Here,"
said he, laying his tremulous hand reverently
on the book, "here is the connexion, friend
Carlo;" and proceeding hurriedly to refer to his
oracle, he turned to a kind of dictionary of all sorts
of objects, names, and actions, which occupied
one hundred and eighty-six out of its two
hundred and fifty-six pages, and pointed to the
above-mentioned numbers appended to the objects in
question. "Ah! the science of numbers is a
great and wonderful science!" said he.

"But to think of your knowing the numbers
denoted by the red wine, the bishop, and the
apples, without turning to the book!" said the old
cavaliere, with evident admiration. "Ah, my
friend, what a head! what a mind you have!"

"Why, papa knows every number in the list,
I do believe," said Laura, laying her hand on the
old man's silver locks, as he sat beside her, and
kissing him on the forehead; "few know as much
of the cabala as papa does."

"Few have studied them, perhaps, as
profoundly and as long," returned he, with the
mock humility of gratified vanity. "But, alas!
Art is long, and the longest life short."

"The longest life would indeed be too short, I
fear, to reach the goal of your studies, Signor
Vanni," said Carlo, not without bitterness.

"Who knows!" cried the old man, fiercely.
"Who knows when the reward may come to the
watchful and unwearied student—come in a
moment, suddenly, unexpectedly, rich and abundant!
2100, I said. Multiply this by the number
of the current year, add the golden number, and
with the product form the pyramid of the great
Rutilio of Calabria. Take the second line of it
for your first number, the two figures at the right
hand of the base for your second, and the two
figures at the left hand for your third number;
place these beneath your pillow at night; and,
should you dream of them, the result is sure;—
almost sure," added the old dreamer, with a
long-drawn sigh.

The cavaliere, meanwhile, was doing great
execution among the eatables; and it was not till
the last diminutive bone of the cat-like lamb was
picked, that he lit his cigar, and soon afterwards
fell asleep in perfect beatitude smoking it. The
old jeweller ate very sparingly, and fell to conning
his book, and doing endless multiplications and
additions. The lovers, of course, were happy, and
busy in talk of their hopes of shortly accomplishing
the long-waited for marriage. And thus the
merenda lasted far into the afternoon; and it
was nearly sunset when the little party started
to walk by the river-bank to Florence.

MY IDEA.

SUBMITTING myself unwillingly to that
uniformity of type which is one of the causes of
the dullness of your journal, my desire is, Mr.
A. Y. R., to make use of its enormous circulation.
You would do well to fatten out those
last two words with a good feed of lamp-black,
and display them prominently, but you are too
much behind the age to do it, and do it you
won't. All that I am now about to say to you
ought to be printed as the author who best knew
how to catch the public eye, the late Mr. George
Robins, would have known how to print it, so
that every one should

OBSERVE!

A MILLION CHARMS!!

OF
VARIOUS AND UNPRECEDENTED ATTRACTION!!!

IN THE
IMPENDING MASTER STROKE!!!!

THAT WILL ENABLE
ANY ONE!!!!!

TO BECOME
A MILLIONAIRE!!!!!!

Perhaps you will oblige me by displaying at
least those words with a little typographical
propriety. But as for the late Mr. George
Robins, he was a man of a past generation, and
for the last twenty years the world has been
expecting his successor. He is come. I am he.
Julius Cæsar Richards. When Providence raises
up such men as Robins, Richards——Well,
when such men do come to trace out to the
peoples the path they ought to follow; to stamp
with the seal of their genius a new era; and to
accomplish in a few years the labour of many
centuries—all I say is, happy the peoples who
can comprehend and follow them.

The day is gone by when, of their own merits,
modest men were dumb. I, Mr. A. Y. R., state
this as a fact which became well known to me