He requested permission to look at the
Stone. I produced it. He calmly drew forth
his spectacles—examined it with great care,
and then returned it into my hands.

In the most delicate manner, and all in
Oriental allegory and parable, he gave me to
understand that he was acquainted with the
Stone—that is, he knew where it came from
—and he very much pitied me. He saw what
I must have gone through; and the worst of
it was, that my life might pay the penalty—
and all for a mistake!

I asked, what mistake? He waved that
question, and begged to relate to me a little
story. He said the history and adventures of
all the great diamonds were a sort of romance.
Take the history, for instance—only for
instance, he said—of the one called the
Koh-i-noor. He then went a long way back
into the East, and told me all sort of things
about it. But finally, this:—It was in the
possession of an old Indian Chief — the treasure
of his eyes. "Well—this aged Chief
was conquered by the Sikhs, and the Sikh
Prince demanded the Koh-i-noor as his ransom.
The old chief, after much hesitation, at
last, brought it himself to the Sikh camp—took
it from a fold in his sleeve, shed tears over it,
gave it up, and then fainted away! This was
the story that was brought over with it. Did it
look quite true—or did it look a little like a
scene in the Adelphi Theatre? "Was it not
probable that the old chief had a duplicate stone,
very good, and cut exactly like it—and if so,
would he not have first tried if the Sikh Prince
would accept the counterfeit? Yes—he would
first try this; and as the Sikh had accepted
the stone, without further thought or question,
the inference was open to reason. This was
the stone that the English general seized, and
sent over to England. It had never been
tested. The way to test a diamond was to
subject it to the action of the blow-pipe, by
means of which, if a true diamond, it could be
all blown away in a gas.

With these words the old Hebrew gentleman
produced, from beneath his gaberdine, a
short bit of candle and a blow-pipe.

"But, good heavens!" I exclaimed, "what 's
the good of finding a fact, if the fact itself is
blown away in the process? "

He calmed my apprehensions. He only
wished to try it at one angle. The least product
of the required gas would prove it a
diamond, and he would be satisfied. So he
lit the bit of candle, and began to blow away
with a wise and careful countenance. He
blew till he was out of breath, but no gas had
been produced. He tried several times. The
stone was not a diamond.

I fell back upon the pillow. I had risked
my life—passed unnumbered days and nights
of thought and labour, and anguish—and
reduced myself to beggary—and all for a
counterfeit. Yes, for this very counterfeit, I
stood an hourly chance of being seized, tried,
and hanged. The sooner I got rid of it, the
better. I told the Rabbi so, and he commended
my prudence. He slipped a bank-note
into my hand, in a delicate way, and I
gave him the Stone, with which he departed.
The note was for five pounds. Perhaps I acted
foolishly; but Nemo mortalium omnibus horis
sapit—nobody who commits a theft knows very
well what he is about. I was not in my proper
mind. Besides, how could I contend with this
learned old Hebrew—such knowledge of life,
such experience, and wisdom? What chance
had I with such a man? I was like a child
in his hands.

I continued ill for several weeks; and, when
I was able to leave my bed, being reduced to
utter destitution, I was obliged to go into the
workhouse.

Oh, what thoughts I had of the last brief
period of my life, which seemed longer than
all the rest put together; and how I bemoaned
myself as I lay on my back in the little workhouse
truckle-bed! I could hardly help laughing
at some things; but I was a miserable,
broken-hearted man.

One day, while I was out in the roads,
scraping up mud, I saw a gig coming along
with a large, grey, high-trotting horse. As I
was moving out of the way a little, I saw that
the man driving it was no other than Bob
Styles, in a new white silk hat. He wore a
scarlet tie, and a bright silk waistcoat, with
two gold chains across it, and a large cairngorm
watch-seal dangling about. He had a ring on
one finger of the whip-hand. It was my
turquoise! How did he obtain these?—oh, how
should I know! As he passed me he leered
down, with his tongue thrust in his cheek.
At the same moment one wheel passed over
the iron part of my mud-scraper, and jarred
me all up the elbow, which, by a simultaneous
movement, I seemed to strike upon the hard
wooden arm of a chair—and I awoke.

ARCADIA.

THE woods are in their glory now,
The wild fruits in their prime,
And clouds with melting radiance flow,
While love-lorn zephyrs pant and glow
In this delicious clime.

Hear'st thou the woodland echoes ring,
Hear'st thou the winding horn?
While, soaring on intense bright wing,
The sun-lit birds like spirits sing,
And quire the sweet-breath'd Morn.

Soft music floats from dawn to eve
Beneath Cyllene's vines,
Where youths and maidens chaplets weave—
The oak-leaf, and the yellow sheave,
Wherein the poppy shines.

The Fauns are piping in the meads,
The timbrel whirls on high;
Pan pauses o'er his crowded reeds,
And thinks of all his ancient deeds,
While they go reeling by.