ping along the path, but keeping tight hold of his hand, she led the old man to the spot. The dwelling was very small, but clean and neat; the little garden offered pleasant and profitable employment. Mary gathered some flowers for a wreath for "Trust's" neck, who had kept close to her side, as if fearful of again losing her, and then, insisting on her companion's taking a beautiful little rosebud to remind him of her during his day's journey, followed him back to her uncle's house. Breakfast was ready; and soon after she was obliged to part with her new acquaintance. His blessing brought tears to her eyes; for she remembered the time when she came daily for her mother's kiss; she turned sadly away, but found her aunt by her side, with such a look of kind sympathy, that she, with surprised joy, received her caresses. The traveller's history had much interested all who heard it; and Martha much desired that he should return and assist her and her husband in the guidance of their children. She was good-hearted, and endeavoured to do what was right herself, and to influence them to do so likewise; but she had not enjoyed the benefit of education, and lamented her own deficiencies too sincerely not to know that she was wanting in much, which she desired that her children should understand. Mary sat silent in the porch, puzzling to find out what could make her cry so much; for she fully expected her aged friend would return; and she thought her aunt's kindness ought to have made her quite happy. "Are you going to school to-day, Mary?" inquired little Johnny. This question roused his cousin; she felt she had much rather stay away. "Trust," who had sat at her feet, with his head and paws resting on her knees, as if to express his wish to share her feelings and cheer her, now jumped up, wagged his tail, and looked wistfully in her face; she thought she would gladly escape to the fields with him, and hastily answered the little boy," I shall not go to-day, Johnny; you must go without me.' The astonished look of the inquirer, who had never seen her so irritable before, recalled Mary's sense of duty; and taking the child's hand, she told him to go with her to her aunt, that she might ask her. Martha guessed what passed in her niece's mind, and tenderly sought to indulge her without allowing her to spend the day in idleness, which would make it appear So much the longer. "You shall take this bundle of work to the Squire's, instead of going to school; I want it carried home, and Mrs. Adams will perhaps be able to give you some more to bring back to me; James will be home in the afternoon, and you can return in time to meet him, and receive any news he may bring of your friend." Nothing could have given Mary greater pleasure than this errand. The kind inhabitants of the Hall were always good to her; took pleasure in instructing her; and encouraged her visits. Mr. Stanmore was very wealthy; but he had so conscientious a belief that riches were entrusted to him to benefit others, and to be a means of extending his duties as a Christian, that a large portion was cach year put aside for the relief of his poor tenantry, and more for other charitable purposes. The only being on whom he lavished extravagance was his daughter. Her mother had frequently objected, when she was very young, to her having such large sums at her own disposal; but latterly, when she saw how her daughter had been led to view her wealth, she never checked her father, and thankfully allowed her the full control over what he put into her hands. This only child, so dear to her parents, had been brought up with every care; and her instructors now rejoiced to find that their precepts had taken effect on her heart,her daily, hourly actions setting forth the principles which she had embraced. With her, Mary was a great favourite, and she would often call for her, on her pony, and take her with her when she visited the poor on her father's estate; they used sometimes to go some distance, and spend hours in the fields and woods; Ellen Stanmore constantly made Mary ride. The child amused her with her ideas upon everything around them, and her friend took great delight in directing and improving her protégée. Their favourite resting-place was an old ruinous chapel; it was well shaded by ancient trees; and here they spent the hottest days of summer. Ellen brought books and work, and found a ready pupil; such a kind mistress soon became dear to the scholar; and when her aunt gave her the errand to Mrs. Stanmore, she rejoiced that she should have an opportunity of relating her adventures with the old man. When she came to the housekeeper's room, she found Mrs. Adams very busy; she had also much affection for Mary; and when the ladies were engaged, made her sit with her, and the old woman took great pride in teaching her to work; but on this occasion she appeared too much occupied to attend to her. Mary gave her aunt's message, put down the bundle, and timidly inquired whether she might see the ladies. "I am not sure that you can go to them to-day, but you can run round to Miss Ellen's sitting-room; she may be alone with her cousin, Miss Francis, who is staying with her; there are several visitors here now, but the young ladies spend some part of the morning in their own sitting-room." Mary, for an instant, thought she would rather not see her friend than meet a stranger; but she remembered her desire to interest her in the old man's history; and, trying to be courageous, she skipped on to the lawn, and ran to the window, where she had so often found admittance. Peeping in, and knocking gently on the glass, she was disappointed to find only the strange lady there. "I came to look for Miss Stanmore," she hesitatingly replied to the inquiry of what she wanted. 66 My cousin will soon be here; what have you to say to her?" To relate her tale to any one else seemed impossible; yet, fearing it was rude to refuse, she was much puzzled what to say, when Ellen's entrance relieved her; she warmly welcomed her little favourite, and soon employed her by begging for her assistance in arranging some flowers. The presence of a third person put a restraint on Mary, but she was happy in being useful. Some more flowers were wanted from the garden, and, carrying the scissors, she went with Ellen to pick them. "I fear, Mary," said the latter, "we shall not have many more rides this summer; my cousin Anna will stay some months with me, and I must consult her wishes." "But cannot she come with us; I am sure she would like to walk in the woods?" "She would not, I think, find the attractions in nature that we do, and I believe would prefer a drive in the carriage." "Then it must be that she has never seen them." "We will not try to find out what her reasons may be; it is sufficient for us that we give up our own pleasure without a murmur.” Unfortunately, Mary was not inclined to be so contented, and would readily have expressed her dislike of such an obstacle, had she not feared that her companion would be displeased; looking at her peaceful countenance, she felt almost ashamed of her own thoughts, and walked on for some time in silence. At last she recollected that this might be the only opportunity for mentioning her new acquaintance. She looked doubtingly in her friend's face, half fearful that she might not have time to listen. "I see, Mary, that you have something to talk about this morning; as we cannot indulge in our walks, and conversation at the ruin, you must learn to speak to me here." "I would gladly do so; but although there are so many beautiful flowers here, and the birds sing around me as sweetly, I feel as if these neat walks and made-up seats took away all the ease that I have with you in the woods." "Dear child, you must not feel thus; all the beauties here are as natural, and I am as ready to hear you; such trifles should not influence you. Come, we will rest on this bench, it may not be as soft as our turf seat; however, it is in the shade." But the child would not sit down, and remained timidly leaning on the arm of the seat, while she gave her account of her new friend. "You certainly have found a pleasant acquaintance, and I hope he may prove a valuable adviser; but I cannot see why you should have hesitated telling me this before." "The difficult part is to come: he loves me already; he has no one to take care of him, and I want to live with him; I can do a great deal of house work, and I would not then run about the fields all day; I want to learn all he has to teach me. I am afraid you will think this very bold of me, when he has never given me leave, and he looked so grave when I told him, that I thought you might do the same." "This is a strange idea; and I can scarcely think you are right in dwelling on such a plan. I fear you are not sufficiently grateful to your aunt. Had you a more contented mind, you would be less restless, and happier where you are." "But I am certain that the old man would teach me what was right much better than my aunt." 46 Have you already learned perfectly all the duties which she teaches you? Is there nothing that she tells you, that you neglect?" Mary felt that she was very wrong; the beautiful scenes that surrounded her seemed to reproach her; she covered her face with her hands, and now bitterly repented her ill-humour. She owned her errors, and knew where to seek for that forgiveness and direction which no human being could give her. After a few minutes' silence, she ran after Ellen, who had walked on; her smiling face was now as cheerful as ever. "My heart is quite bright now," she exclaimed, "and I want you to grant me a favour before I go, then I can run home and wait for James." "You may ask your favour; but I shall be obliged if you will carry the flowers in for me." Mary had not intended to meet the stranger again, but, remembering how uncharitable her ill-temper had made her towards Anna, she ran in with her basket, and taking the prettiest rose she could find, laid it by her side; and without waiting for an acknowledgment, bounded back to Ellen. "Now for my request. Will you promise to come and see my old man directly he comes? You know I may sometimes, if my aunt will let me, visit him; and if you were there at the same time, it would be almost as pleasant as the ruin." he would like to see me; and if my cousin does not require "I will try and come, if you will first ask him whether my company." Will she not come with you?" In her heart Mary hoped Anna would not come; but she thought of her former bad feelings about her, and fancied she should thus make some amends, as she could not doubt that she would like the visit. "We will see, Mary: I cannot say what would be most agreeable to her; but when you let me know that your friend is come, and willing to see me, I shall use every endeavour to come to him." With this assurance the child was obliged to be satisfied; taking leave of Miss Stanmore, she returned to Mrs. Adams for the fresh supply of work, and was soon running down the road leading to her uncle's cottage. (To be continued.) Biographical Sketches of Eminent Painters. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. HAVING traced the history of some of the most eminent painters of the Italian, Flemish, Dutch, and French schools, we seek for instances of genius and celebrity in artists of our own country; and the name of Sir Joshua Reynolds is foremost on the list. His birth took place on the 16th of July, 1723, at Plympton, in Devonshire. children, five of whom died in infancy. He was master His father, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds, had eleven of the Grammar-school at Plympton, and he instructed his son in the classics himself. When quite a child, Joshua's great delight was in copp ing his elder sister's drawings, and some prints which Le found in his father's books, particularly in Dryden translation of Plutarch's Lives; and in his eighth year he made himself so completely master of a treatise en perspective, which he accidentally met with, that he never had occasion afterwards to study any other book on that subject. He then put his knowledge into pras tice, by drawing, according to rule, the Grammar-school of Plympton, which was a building raised on stone pillars; and he accomplished his task so well, that his father was struck with this evidence of his little son's talents, and being fond of drawing himself, he encouraged his child in his love for the art. Young Joshua now began to take the likenesses of his family and friends with tolerable success; and the perusal of Richardson's Treatise on Painting so delighted him, and inspired him with such enthusiastic feelings with regard to Raphael, that he considered that great painter to have been the most illustrious character of either ancient or modern times. Until he was about seventeen years of age, he exer cised his juvenile pencil in different parts of his native and at that period his father placed hi county; under the tuition of Hudson, who was also a native of Devonshire, and the most distinguished British artist of that day. He remained in London, with Hudson, three years, and then left him in consequence of some slight disagreement, and returned to Plympton; this he afterwards considered to have been a fortunate cir cumstance, since it induced him to abandon the tame and insipid style of his master, and to adopt a manner of his own. Reynolds was in his twenty-third year when his made but few efforts, and to have improved but litte father died, and the young man was left to make his own way in the world; and, although he is said to have during the three preceding years, he now devoted him self assiduously to the practice of his profession, and. after the lapse of about four years, having been introduced to Lord Mount Edgecumbe, and to Captain. afterwards Lord Keppel, the latter, upon being appointed to a command in the Mediterranean, invited Reynolds to accompany him on the voyage. Having spent two months in the island of Minorca, he sailed for Leghorn, whence he proceeded to Rome. The works of Raphael, in the Vatican, did not at first make that striking impression on him which he had anticipated; this mortified and dejected Reynolds, but. with becoming diffidence, he imputed the disappoint ment to his own want of taste, and his incapacity to appreciate the real excellence of a painter of whom he had conceived so exalted an opinion. He was, however, consoled by the assurances of those with whom he con- | but he had the happy art of diving into, as it were, and versed on the subject, that a similar effect had been embodying the minds, habits, and manners of those who produced on many persons of acknowledged genius; as sat to him. the beauties of those great performances are by no means superficial, and require to be studied by the eye of a real artist in order to discover and appreciate their genuine merit. In his Notes on Du Fresnoy, he says: "Notwithstanding my disappointment, I proceeded to copy some of those excellent works. I viewed them again and again. I even affected to feel their merit, and to admire them more than I really did. In a short time a new taste and new perceptions began to dawn upon me, and I was convinced that I had originally formed a false opinion of the perfection of art; and, since that time, having frequently revolved the subject in my mind, I am of opinion that a relish for the higher excellences of the art is an acquired taste, which no man ever possessed without long cultivation, great labour, and attention." It is not probable, however, that when at Rome he spent much of his time in copying, for in a preserved fragment of his writing he says, "the man of true genius, instead of spending all his hours as many artists do while they are at Rome, in measuring statues and copying pictures, soon begins to think for himself, and endeavours to do something like what he sees:" but he minutely examined the works of the great masters, and fixed in his mind their peculiar and characteristic merits. Reynolds in the same paper says, that he considered general copying placed the student in danger of imitating without selecting; and that, as it requires no effort of the mind, those powers of invention and disposition, which ought particularly to be called out and put in action, lie torpid, and lose their energy for want exercise. Though the landscapes forming the back-ground of many of his portraits are extremely beautiful, he seldom exercised his hand in regular landscape-painting. In the historical department, however, he was eminently successful, and has not only enriched various collections at Rome by his works in that higher branch of his art, but he extended the fame of the English school of painting to other foreign countries. Soon after his return from Italy, Reynolds became acquainted with Dr. Johnson, and a friendship was afterwards formed between those two great men, which lasted until the end of their lives. Reynolds supplied his learned friend with three essays on painting, which were published in the Idler, in the latter part of the year 1759 :—these essays were his first literary productions. In December 1768, His Majesty, George the Third, was pleased to incorporate, by charter, the Royal Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, to be composed of the ablest and most respectable artists resident in Great Britain. Reynolds was unanimously elected president, and shortly afterwards the king conferred on him the honour of knighthood. The expenses of this new institution were at first only partly met by the product of annual exhibitions of works of art, and the deficiency was supplied out of the king's privy purse. The aid of his Majesty's bounty was required for a few years, but the exhibition became eventually so profitable, as to suffice for more than the support of the establishment; and it still continues to afford a cheap and delightful annual gratification to the lovers of the fine arts, and to encourage the taste for cultivating and improving them. Sir Joshua Reynolds, when president of the Royal After an absence of three years, he returned to Academy, voluntarily undertook the task of giving England, and hired a large house in Newport-street, periodical lectures on painting; and, between the years in London; and the first specimen he gave of his great 1769 and 1790, he delivered fifteen discourses, which ability is said to have been a boy's head surmounted by contain such just criticisms on that difficult subject, a turban, in the style of Rembrandt, which so attracted couched in such clear and elegant language, that they the attention of his old master, Hudson, that he called compete with the efforts of his pencil as monuments of every day to watch his progress, and perceiving at last his fame. that there was no trace of his own manner in any part of the picture, he exclaimed:-" Reynolds, you don't paint so well as when you left England!" He soon afterwards painted a whole length portrait of his friend and patron, Admiral Keppel. It was so admirably executed, that it at once placed him at the head of his profession as a portrait-painter. The Empress Catherine of Russia was so pleased with the perusal of these lectures, that she sent Sir Joshua a gold box with a basso-relievo of her Imperial Majesty on the lid, set round with diamonds. Within the box was a complimentary note written with her own hand. In 1773, the University of Oxford honoured Sir Joshua Reynolds by conferring on him the degree of Doctor of Laws. In the summer of 1781, he went to the Netherlands and Holland, and on his return he wrote an account of his journey. It contains much excellent criticism on the works of Rubens, Vandyck, Rembrandt, &c., which he saw in the churches and collections at Antwerp, Brussels, Ghent, in the Dusseldorf gallery, and at Amsterdam. Reynolds possessed the art of uniting to a dignified characteristic resemblance of the head, an endless variety of spirited and graceful attitudes, picturesque back-grounds, novel and striking effects of light and shade, with great richness and harmony of colour. His performances at this period did not, however, possess those excellences to the degree which is observable in his later works; for he was one of the few whose efforts to improve ended but with his life. He was The elegant translation of Du Fresnoy's Art of Paintaccustomed to say, that he never began a picture with-ing, by Mr. Mason, was published in 1783, with a very out a determination to make it his best; and his ingenious commentary by Sir Joshua Reynolds, consistfavourite maxim, which he was fond of repeating con- ing chiefly of practical observations on, and explanatinually, that nothing is denied to well-directed tions of, the rules laid down by the author of that poem; industry," seems to have been justified by his own and in the following year he was appointed principal unceasing progress. painter in ordinary to His Majesty, in which office he Reynolds's portraits were not only correct likenesses, continued until his death. Sir Joshua had now reached the highest step in his | great fortitude and gentleness, and expired at his house profession; but he was a man whom prosperity could in Leicester Fields, on the 23d of February, 1792, in not spoil. His whole life, until his sight failed him, the sixty-ninth year of his age. was passed in the unwearied practice of the art which formed his chief delight. His house was filled to the remotest corners with casts from the antique; statues, pictures, drawings, and prints by the various masters of all the different schools and nations; and thus he was constantly surrounded by objects of amusement, of study, and of competition. Sir Joshua Reynolds was rather under the middle size; his complexion was florid, and his countenance had an honest, lively, and pleasing expression. His manners were polished and agreeable, and he possessed a constant flow of spirits which rendered him at all times a most desirable companion. His hours of recreation were chiefly passed in the society of his numerous friends and acquaintance; and at his hospitable table were assembled, in succession, for above thirty years, almost every individual in the three kingdoms who was distinguished for his attainments in literature and the arts, or who was remarkable for his eminence in the pulpit or at the bar, in the senate or in the naval and military service. This amiable man was always ready to be amused, and to contribute to the amusement of others, and anxious to receive information on every subject which presented itself. In the exercise of his professional talents, he was, as we have shown, indefatigably assiduous, and he neither suffered a failure to make him despond, nor success to render him negligent. In conjunction with Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua established the Literary Club, a society which can boast of having had enrolled among its members many of the most enlightened characters of the last century. From the period of Sir Joshua's return from Italy, he had the misfortune to be very deaf; this affliction arose from a severe cold which he caught when painting in the palace of the Vatican near a stove, which attracted the damp vapours of the building. When in company with several persons, he was obliged to use an ear-trumpet to enable him to enjoy and share in the conversation of his friends; and such was the screnity of his temper, that what he did not at once hear he never troubled those with whom he conversed to repeat. For a long series of years, Sir Joshua enjoyed excellent health, which has been in a great manner at tributed to his custom of standing to paint; but in the year 1782 he was afflicted with a paralytic affection, from which he soon recovered; but in 1789, whilst painting the portrait of Lady Beauchamp, his sight became seriously affected, and it was with difficulty that he could proceed with his work. He had recourse to the aid of the most skilful oculists, but he was shortly afterwards deprived of the sight of his left eye. After many struggles, he made up his mind to desist from painting, lest his right eye should also fail him. This resolution must have been the result of a painful effort, since it deprived him of an occupation, which he loved more for its own sake than for the great emolument which it produced. Nevertheless, his usual flow of spirits remained unchanged, and he enjoyed the society of his friends as much as ever. In the latter part of the year 1791, however, he became afflicted with disease of the liver; he bore this painful malady, and a confinement to the house of nearly three months, with On the 3d of March following, his remains were interred in the crypt of St. Paul's cathedral, near the tombs of Sir Christopher Wren and Vandyck. A great number of the most distinguished persons in this country attended his funeral, and the pall was supported by three dukes, two marquesses, and five other noblemen: indeed, every respect that could be paid, by an ealightened nation, to the memory of worth and genius, was displayed on this occasion. THE FALSE MERCHANT. SIR FELIX was a warrior of high prowess, but there withal of small possessions and slender income, aní careful of his little patrimony. Summoned to the deferre and rescue of the Holy Sepulchre, he looked aroun: for one in whose hands he might repose confidence for he had sold his few fields in order to raise a sufficient following of armed esquires to enable h banner to be raised with credit on the fields of Palestine Some little of his money yet remained, and Sir Fer desired to place it with some man of trust, that might remain for him, should he ever return from ha hazardous expedition. Among all the merchants of the imperial city no one bore a higher or more extended reputation than Cautus: from east to west, from north to south, his agents were in motion, and every nation recognised the power an i the energy of the great Roman merchant; the wi hordes of the deserts of the east, and the roving band of the Scythians, were alike in his pay,-the hired guardians of the long files of camels, or the countless waggons that bore his goods from one nation to another people. "His argosies with portly sail, Like signors and rich burghers of the flood, As they flew by them with their woven wings,” To outward appearance, no man was more calm, er less excited by good or evil fortune, than Cautus. Ta. least part of his affections seemed placed on his many ventures; he cared little how the wind blew, whether fair or foul, and seldom consulted in his maps for the ports or tracks to or over which his vessels were sailing "His ventures were not in one vessel trusted, To this merchant Sir Felix went. "Good Sir," said the knight, "I come to entrust you with the little that remains to me of my paternal fortune, after raising my followers for the Holy Land, and furnishing their and my equipments. There are a thousand pieces of gold; receive them in trust for me should I ever return. If I fall in Palestine take them to yourself. For nor wife, nor child, nor relative have I, and of my wealth none can I take with me to the grave." "Freely do I receive the trust, Sir Knight, and honestly will I, if it so please you, employ your money until you come, that you shall receive back your own with interest." "Nay, nay, good merchant, I am no trader; make thou what thou willest of the gold, so that I do but regain my money on my return." With these words Sir Felix turned to leave the house of the merchant, when Cautus stayed him. "Sir Knight, stay, Sir Knight, until I can give you a written acknowledgment of the trust, and a bond to return it on your demand." " Nay, nay, Sir Merchant," rejoined the knight, "no scholar am I. If I cannot believe the word of Cautus, how can his bond profit me?" Years passed over before the merchant and the knight met again. Mixed fortune had followed the merchant; some of his ventures had gone to wreck, but the majority had come to a good market, and the wealth and reputation of Cautus was greater than ever. Far different had been the fortune of the crusader. His life indeed had been spared to him, but sickness had borne down his frame, and death in every form had destroyed one by one the gallant and faithful band that had followed his person. Eager to regain the small sum he had deposited in the hands of Cautus, the knight made his way to the imperial city. Meanly clothed in a pilgrim's dress, Sir Felix entered the splendid house of the merchant. What news, Sir Pilgrim?" said Cautus. "But little good, Sir Merchant. Disease and war wear down the bodies of the holy warriors, and dissensions weaken their strength. I, too, have suffered; and now I return to redeem the pledge with which I entrusted you on my departure." "The pledge, good pilgrim-what pledge?" "Dost thou not know me?" asked the knight, as he bared his face and head. "Sore as disease has wasted me, many must there be that know me." Sir Pilgrim, I know thee not-who art thou?" "Am not I the knight Sir Felix, and art not thou the merchant Cautus, in whose hands I placed a thousand pieces of gold, when I sailed for the Holy Land." "Nothing know I of thee or thine, Sir Knight; but if that thou sayest be true, show me my bond, and I will pay thee that I owe." come, "I have no bond," rejoined the knight. "No bond, Sir Knight, and yet wouldst persuade a merchant that thou didst entrust him with a thousand pieces of gold? Go to, ask of any man whether the merchant Cautus ever takes a pledge without giving his bond. Go to,-thou art a bold impostor." "If thou wilt deny thy trust, Sir Merchant, at least have pity on my distress, and of thy abundance give me that which thou dost deny me of my right." "Away, Sir,-away, Sir; to a case of real woe and misery, the ears of Cautus and his wealth were ever open, but to an impostor he has nothing to give but punishment. Go, Sir Pilgrim, for thy garb's sake I refrain from giving thee up to justice." Driven from the merchant's house amid the sneers and threats of Cautus and his subordinates, Sir Felix wandered haplessly through the noisy city, and sought the silence of the fields without its walls. Wandering along a bye-road, deeply grieving over his miseries, the knight met an old and feeble woman, dressed like himself in the weeds of a pilgrim. Hardly able to support herself on her staff, the old woman tottered along, stumbling over the stones that lay scattered in her path. In pity on her condition, Sir Felix moved some of the impediments out of her path, and assisted the devotee to a part of the road whereon her shoeless feet might walk with less pain and discomfort. 66 Thanks, good father, for thy kindness. Old as I am, and sore worn with fasting, prayer, and travel, methinks my aged features bear a less mournful appearance than thine." "Good mother," rejoined the knight, "sorely have I suffered in the Holy Land by disease and wounds; but now more grievous is my loss, for he to whom I had entrusted the little remnant of my property denies the pledge, and drives me from his house as an impostor." When the old devotee heard the whole of the knight's story, she bade him take comfort and follow her advice: then the old devotee sent for a crafty workman, a man of trust and ability, and he made by her order ten large and fair chests of wood, well adorned with ornamented locks and hinges, and enriched with curious devices and colours on the outside. When these chests were well filled, she sent for ten porters, and told them to take the ten chests to the house of Cautus, each successive man to be at least several minutes after his predecessor. With the workman she went herself to the merchant's house, and told Sir Felix to come in with the porter that brought the first chest. "Good mother," said Cautus, as soon as he saw the old woman come tottering in, and recognised her as a devotee of great repute, "good mother, what can I do for thee?" "My son," replied the old woman, pointing to the workman, 'this my friend leaves Rome to-day for Egypt, and would find some safe place for his great wealth. To thee, my son, for thy known probity, have I brought him; and look, where the first of the ten chests in which it is contained is now being brought hither." At this moment the porter entered with the first chest, and placed it with apparent difficulty on the ground. Hardly had Cautus expressed his thanks to the old devotee, and her supposed friend, before Sir Felix entered, and not far behind him was seen another porter staggering under the second chest. Only too glad to sacrifice the thousand pieces to obtain the treasure of the ten chests, the merchant hastened to Sir Felix and embraced him with every demonstration of joy. Ah, my friend, my dear knight where have you been? when did you return? Receive, I pray you, the gold you entrusted to my care, and take the interest it has made during thy absence,-three hundred like pieces. Come, my dear friend, receive thine own." Whilst Cautus was paying Sir Felix his money, the ten chests continued to arrive, until the whole number were arranged on the floor, and gladdened the eyes of the merchant with their external glitter, and apparent weight. My son," said the old devotee, "there be yet more than these ten chests; we will go and see after them; do thou take care of these during our absence." With these words the old devotee and the workman left the shop of Cautus and followed Sir Felix. Every day, every hour, Cautus expected their return, but they came not; the ten chests were borne into another warehouse, and the merchant regarded them as his own, as he had given no document for them. After much delay, his avarice overcame him, and he proceeded to open the first chest. The labour was great, but endured gladly in the hopes of the treasure within: at last, lock after lock was forced, and the lid kept down by its own weight alone. Sending every one away, Cautus entered the closet and approached the chest: with a trembling hand he raised the heavy lid, and held the lamp over the box, that he might better scan its contents. With a sudden scream he reeled backwards, and the lamp fell from his hand, and was broken on the stones with which the box was filled. With the three hundred pieces he had given to the knight, he had purchased nought but tons of pebbles. |