home from duty; and the third lieutenant of
the Blunderbore—who had been ashore on
leave, and was a little shaken about the eyes
still—was hastening to catch the " beef-boat"
to convey him to his ship. Next, the town
itself did the pony leave behind: the outskirts,
the outlying villages, the ruined stocks
and deserted pound, the Port-Admiral's
villa: all these he passed, running as fast as
a constable, or a bill, until he got at last into
a broad white road, which Acon-Virlaz never
remembered to have seen before; a road
with a high hedge on either side, and to
which there seemed to be no end.

Mr. Ben-Daoud drove the pony in first-
rate style. His head and the animal's
wagged in concert; and the more he flourished
his whip, the more the pony went; and
both seemed to like it. The great white
road sent up no dust. Its stones, if stones it
had, never grated nor gave out a sound
beneath the wheels of the " shay." It was
only very white and broad, and seemed to
have no end.

Not always white, however; for, as they
progressed, it turned in colour first milky-
grey, then what schoolboys call, in connection
with the fluid served out to them at
breakfast time, sky-blue; then a deep, vivid,
celestial blue. And the high hedge on either
side melted by degrees into the same hue;
and Acon-Virlaz began to feel curiously
feathery about the body, and breezy about
the lungs. He caught hold of the edge of
the " shay," as though he were afraid of
falling over. He shut his eyes from time to
time, as though he were dizzy. He began to
fancy that he was in the sky.

"There is Sky Fair, Mr. Virlaz! " Ben-
Daoud suddenly said, pointing a-head with
his whip.

At that moment, doubtless through the
superior attractions of Sky Fair, the dusky
"shay " became of so little account to Acon-
Virlaz as to disappear entirely from his sight
and mind, though he had left his nightcap
and comb (his little bag of money was safe
in his side-pocket, trust him), on the cushion.
At the same moment it must have occurred
to the discount pony to put himself out at
living in some very remote corner of creation,
for, he vanished altogether too; and Acon-
Virlaz almost fancied that he saw the beast's
collar fall fifty thousand fathoms five, true as
a plumb-line, into space; and the reins,
which but a moment before Ben-Daoud had
held, flutter loosely away, like feathers.

He found himself treading upon a hard,
loose, gritty surface, which, on looking down,
appeared like diamond-dust.

"Which it is," Mr. Ben-Daoud explained,
when Acon-Virlaz timidly asked him. " Cheap
as dirt here! Capital place to bring your
cast-iron razors to be sharpened, Mr.
Virlaz."

The jeweller felt inclined for the moment,
to resent this pleasantry as somewhat personal;
for, to say truth, the razors in which
he dealt were not of the primest steel.

There was a great light. The brightest
sun-light that Acon-Viiiaz had ever seen was
but a poor farthing candle compared to this resplendency.
There was a great gate through
which they had to pass to the fair. The gate
seemed to Acon-Virlaz as if all the jewellery
and wrought gold in the world had been half-
fused, half-welded together, into one monstrous
arabesque or trellis-work. There was a little
porter's-lodge by the gate, and a cunning-
looking little man by it, with a large bunch
of keys at his girdle. The thing seemed impossible
and ridiculous, yet Acon-Virlaz
could not help fancying that he had seen the
cunning little porter before, and, of all places
in the world, in London, at the lock-up house
in Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, kept by
Mr. Mephibosheth, to whose red-headed
little turnkey, Benjy, he bore an extraordinary
resemblance.

Who is to tell of the glories of Sky Fair?
Who, indeed, unless he had a harp of gold
strung with diamonds? Who is to tell of the
long lines of dazzlingly white booths, hundreds,
if not thousands, if not millions, of
miles in extent, where jewels of surpassing
size and purest water were sold by
the peck, like peas; by the pound, like
spice nuts; by the gallon, like table beer?
Who is to tell of the swings, the round-
abouts, the throwing of sticks, each stick
surmounted by a diamond as big as an ostrich
egg; the live armadillos with their jewelled
scales; the scratchers, corruscating like
meteors; the gingerbread kings and queens;
the whole fun of the fair, one dazzling,
blinding, radiating mass of gold and
gems!

It was not Acon Virlaz who could tell
much about these wondrous things in after
days; for he was too occupied with his little
bag of money, and his little fairings. Ben-
Daoud had spoken the truth: diamonds were
as cheap as dirt in Sky Fair. In an inconceivably
short space of time, and by the expenditure
of a few halfpence, the jeweller had
laid in a stock of precious stones. But, he was
not satisfied with pockets-full, bags-full, hats-
full, of unset, uncut gems. There were heaps of
jewelled trinkets, chains, bracelets, rings,
piled up for sale. He hankered after these.
He bought heaps of golden rings. He decorated
his wrists and ankles with bracelets and bangles
enough for a Bayadere. He might have
been a dog, for the collars round his neck.
He might have been an Ambrose Gwynnett
hung in chains, for the profusion of those
ornaments in gold, with which he loaded himself.
And then he went in for solid services
of plate, and might have been a butler or a
philanthropist, for the piles of ewers, salvers,
candelabra, and goblets which he accumulated
in his hands, under his arms, on his head.
More gold! more jewels! More—more—

Till a bell began to ring, —a loud, clanging,