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of wares which were exhibited upon a long row of tables, placed beneath an awning, behind which an eastern merchant sat smoking. Every species of costly and rare merchandise lay upon the tables. The richest stuffs, brocades, silks, and gold tissues from Persia, the most valuable spices and perfumes from India and Arabia, -Damascus' sabres, the hilts inlaid with gold and ivory, and studded with precious stones,-the rarest gums of Africa and of Guyana,-temples and pagodas, curiously carved in ivory, and the most precious woods, the most excellent specimens of Mosaic, cameos and intaglios, of the most valuable materials and the most exquisite workmanship,-all swelled the riches of the eastern merchant's bazaar. But rich and valuable as were these commodities, the contents of one other table eclipsed them all: it was covered with all kinds of precious stones, ranged in rows, circles, and pyramids: diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, topaz, of all sizes, and of the finest colours, glittered in the sunshine, and dazzled and delighted the eye; but among them I saw no opal.

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Friend," said I to the merchant, "you reign here the emperor of the fair; upon your tables are concentrated the riches of all the cities of the East; every country in the world has laid its tribute before you; and yet," added I, "there seems one thing awanting."

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'What," said he, without taking his pipe from his mouth, "would you desire to see added?"

jewel which I will produce to you, that you will not match it."

"Name its value," said the merchant as unconcernedly as before, "and I will take your word for it; select its worth among these jewels, and lay them on one side, and then place your own opposite to them, and whoever gains shall take up both stakes; you yourself shall decide whether or not I produce a jewel more valuable of its kind than yours."

This I thought was extremely fair, or rather more than fair; for it put it in my power to stake against my jewel something double its value. I did not, however, profit by this advantage, but selected a diamond which I judged to be worth about 50,000 florins, and laid it upon one side. There was now collected around the table a considerable number of persons, attracted at first by the wares, and now interested in the conversation they had overheard, and all anxiously waiting the result of so considerable a wager. I had thus obtained precisely what I desired-an opportunity of displaying my riches, and enjoying the vanity of possessing so rare a gem; to say nothing of the diamond that glittered on the table, and which I already considered as my own. I now pulled the chain over my head, and, opening the leathern purse, drew forth my opal, and laid it upon the table opposite to the diamond.

"A fine opal, indeed," said the merchant, laying down his pipe and examining it, "and worth more than the diamond you selected, and precisely the thing for the top of the pyramid. "I see," replied I, "this beautiful pyramid, My own, you see, is too large," added he, opencomposed of precious stones, two rows of topaz, ing the lid of an ebony box, and laying upon two of ruby, two of sapphire, two of emerald, the table the very opal Schmidt had sold to the and one of diamond, with this fine pearl sur-king, the appearance of which I remembered so mounting the whole; but for the pearl I would substitute an opal."

"I could soon make that change," said the merchant, taking the pipe out of his mouth, "but to my mind the pearl brings the pyramid to a better point; there is not a jewel, young man, that ever came out of the bowels of the earth, that I have not in my possession: and I will venture the worth of this pyramid, that I can show a better stone of every kind than any other merchant now in Cracow-ay! in Poland-ay! in Europe," added he, glancing triumphantly at his tables, and then resuming his pipe.

I thought within myself, "He has no opal, he is too proud of his jewels to submit to the suspicion of not having one, were it in his power to prevent it;" and I immediately replied, "I have not the value of the pyramid to stake, but I will venture the value of a

well.

What were my feelings at that moment?the object of my toil, and hopes, and promises, gone from me in an instant, and by my own accursed folly and vanity. The merchant deliberately returned the pipe into his mouth; took up my opal, and, displacing the pearl, crowned the pyramid with the opal.

"Now," said he, "you will admit that the pyramid is faultless." He then returned his own opal into the box, and calmly began to arrange some of his wares.

I turned away in the deepest dejection: but the expressions of pity from the by-standers, so different from those with which I had expected to be greeted, wounded me more even than the loss of my wealth. I repaired to the shop of the merchant whom I knew, but without communicating to him what had happened. The circumstance, however, soon got wind; it

was soon buzzed about everywhere that an ignorant youth had allowed himself to be juggled out of a valuable jewel by the great Bassora merchant, Haranzabad; and I had the mortification of seeing myself pointed at as this ignorant youth.

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"How could you be so mad," said the merchant, my friend, as to stake any opal against Haranzabad's?—had you come to me first, you would have learned, what everybody knows, that the king pledged his opal to that merchant for a loan, upon condition that he should not exhibit it openly at the fair."

I had now neither business nor inclination to detain me at the fair. I sold my horse, and in place of turning homeward with 50,000 florins in my purse, I had but 200, partly the price of my horse, and partly the balance of a debt, which the lapidary was owing to my father. How different were my feelings on my road homeward from what they would have been had I been returning to the realization of my projects! My sisters' portions, my mothers' provision, my cousin Ronza, and my expected barony, all came to my mind, only to reproach me for my vanity and folly. I was still a jewel-hunter, and had still my fortune to make; vet, wonderful as it may appear, at this very moment, when my hopes were newly crushed, they began to rise again; new dreams of riches, and even projects of their appropriation, occupied my mind, and almost excluded the recollection of my misfortune, and the very hour that witnessed the destruction of all my expectations and the futility of my toils, saw also born within me a steadier determination than ever to renew them, and as firm a persuasion that they would yet be rewarded.

would it if I had possessed riches; death has no greater terrors for the poor than for the rich man, nor has he so much to disturb the serenity of his meditations. My children regret that I should leave them, and their regrets are sincere, because, when I am gone, they expect no equivalent; yet had I even now youth and vigour, I would still pursue the occupation, which I trust my children will never desert, for one day or other their labours will be rewarded. Schmidt has not found the first opal, nor myself the last; and riches may be enjoyed by him who knows how to use them. Go on, then, my children; do not shrink from toils which your father has borne, nor despair of the success which he once achieved, and of which the inexperience of youth only robbed him of the reward.

THE MAY-POLE.1

Come, lasses and lads, take leave of your dads,
And away to the may-pole hie,
For every fair has a sweetheart there,
And the fiddler's standing by.
For Willy shall dance with Jane,

And Johnny has got his Joan,
To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it,
Trip it up and down.

Strike up, says Wat; Agreed, says Mat,
And I prithee, fiddler, play;
Content, says Hodge, and so says Madge,
For this is a holiday.
Then every lad did doff
His hat unto his lass,

Curtsey on the grass.

Begin, says Hal; Aye, aye, says Mall,

No, no, says Noll, and so says Doll,

We'll lead up Packington's Pound;

We'll first have Sellinger's Round.
Then every man began

To foot it round about,
And every girl did jet it, jet it,

Providence, however, has not yet thought fit to crown my hopes; but I have lived hap- And every girl did curtsey, curtsey, pily notwithstanding. Never has my hammer laid open the lustre of another opal, but I have always been cheered on by expectation; my toil has never been rewarded by independence, but it has brought me food and raiment, and left me something to wish for; I have never entered Cracow again with the exulting thought that I was about to possess myself of 50,000 florins, but neither have I ever quitted it with the painful reflection that I have lost the fruit of a year's labour, and of many years' hope; I have had no portions to bestow upon my sisters, but they have married, and have been happy without them; no provision to settle upon my mother, but she is long ago beyond the need of it; no barony to offer Ronza, but she has never appeared to wish for more than she posOld age steals fast upon me, and so

Besses.

Jet it in and out.

You're out, says Dick; Not I, says Nick,
"Twas the fiddler played it wrong;
'Tis true, says Hugh, and so says Sue,
And so says every one.

From Westminster Drollery. An old and popular English ditty, the music of which will be found in Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time.

II.

It was natural that the recluse of the Grange should rejoice in the return of his daughter. Her sprightliness pleasantly diversified the monotonous round of his daily life. Yet even she was surprised to find how great a change came over him before she had been many days in the house. He grew positively gay, and was surprised in the act of humming a tune, one of the joyous airs of his stormy youth. Doretta, on the other hand, was hardly herself. In proportion as her father's vivacity increased her once high spirits subsided. She did not complain, and when rallied on the subject, protested that it was nothing but fancy; but it was feared that she was ailing, and change was suggested; but she would not hear

of it.

Isabel did not fail to urge her own reasons for the step.

"You have always played the mistress here," she said, "and papa would never consent to invite Darton unless you were well enough to receive him."

"I-I am quite well, dear," was the tremulous reply.

In spite of this assurance her cheek paled daily, her eyes had a dark, sunken look, she moved about the house with a listlessness quite foreign to her nature, or sat musing idly in the garden.

The thing was inexplicable to Isabel. Gradually she became satisfied that there must be some cause for this effect. It was not fancy that Doretta shunned her society, and why should this be, seeing how entire had always been their confidence, and how thoroughly mutual their affection? One day she resolved to clear up the mystery. Doretta had strolled into the park. She could be seen from the casement in the gable, where the honeysuckle swung, making for a scene in the shade which was her favourite resort. Isabel resolved to follow her, to charge her with conduct amounting to unkindness, and then to press the point nearest her heart-the invitation of the young artist of her idolatry to the Grange.

It was a bright day for the time of year: balmy as June, though the trees had already taken the autumn tints, and the park showed ranges of orange, red and brown, with only intervening patches of green. Crisp leaves strewed the grass and crackled under the tread. The spot Doretta had chosen was entirely secluded, a little verdurous bower delightful in the cool of overshadowing boughs. "I will come upon her suddenly and startle her,"

thought Isabel. As she neared the spot therefore she lifted her silken skirt and trod on tip-toe, picking out the spots between the fallen leaves, so that there might not be even a rustle. Stealing on thus she gained the shelter of a tree, and there as from a hiding-place peeped curiously forth. The unconscious girl who was the object of scrutiny, stood with her back to the tree, her face downcast, lost in a reverie. In her two hands she held an open letter.

"Caught!" cried the delighted sister, as she detected the fluttering leaves.

The next moment she had darted forward, seized the unsuspecting girl by one arm, while her other hand encircled her waist; and so, holding her firmly, stood laughing in her face. The laugh was loud and joyous, the more so as the hand encircling the waist had caught at and seized an unexpected treasure, nothing less than a miniature suspended from a gold chain, which had evidently just dropped from the listless fingers of the dreamer. The smile which irradiated the merry face met with no reflection, the joyous laugh with no response. Doretta was as a marble statue, cold and immovable.

"Oh, Dorry, Dorry!" cried the delighted Isabel, "have I surprised your secret at last? A letter and a miniature! And you would not take me into your confidence? You could not give trust for trust? I told you all my story, and you have rewarded me by keeping yours to yourself. It was unkind, it was cruel."

For all that she impressed a kiss upon the lips which made no effort to answer her. They were stone cold.

"Why, what is this?" she exclaimed, the mirth dying out of her once cheerful face as she did so. "You are not angry?" "No."

It was gasped forth rather than spoken.

A look of alarm took the place of the joyous smiles which had rendered the sister's face so charming.

"What does this mean?" she demanded. "Why are you so strange? What is the mys tery? Tell me, for I will know all. I am your sister, and have a right to your confidence. Explain to me: I insist on it.'

"Let me go!" cried Doretta, struggling to release herself from the grasp detaining her. "I can tell you nothing. Let me go!"

With an effort she released herself and broke away.

A gay laugh rang in her ears. The chain about her neck held her. Isabel retained her grasp of the portrait. While it was in her hand there was no escape. "Give it me, oh,

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