His property had gradually wasted away, in the course of his travels and his experiments.  Still hope, the constant attendant of the alchymist, had led him on; ever on the point of reaping the reward of his labours, and ever disappointed.  With the credulity that often attended his art, he attributed many of his disappointments to the machination of the malignant spirits that beset the paths of the alchymist and torment him in his solitary labours.  “It is their constant endeavour,” he observed, “to close up every avenue to those sublime truths, which would enable man to rise above the abject state into which he has fallen, and to return to his original perfection.”  To the evil offices of these demons, he attributed his late disaster.  He had been on the very verge of the glorious discovery; never were the indications more completely auspicious; all was going on prosperously, when, at the critical moment which should have crowned his labours with success, and have placed him at the very summit of human power and felicity, the bursting of a retort had reduced his laboratory and himself to ruins.

“I must now,” said he, “give up at the very threshold of success.  My books and papers are burnt; my apparatus is broken.  I am too old to bear up against these evils.  The ardour that once inspired me is gone; my poor frame is exhausted by study and watchfulness, and this last misfortune has hurried me towards the grave.”  He concluded in a tone of deep dejection.  Antonio endeavoured to comfort and reassure him; but the poor alchymist had for once awakened to a consciousness of the worldly ills that were gathering around him, and had sunk into despondency.  After a pause, and some thoughtfulness and perplexity of brow, Antonio ventured to make a proposal.

“I have long,” said he, “been filled with a love for the secret sciences, but have felt too ignorant and diffident to give myself up to them.  You have acquired experience; you have amassed the knowledge of a lifetime; it were a pity it should be thrown away.  You say you are too old to renew the toils of the laboratory; suffer me to undertake them.  Add your knowledge to my youth and activity, and what shall we not accomplish?  As a probationary fee, and a fund on which to proceed, I will bring into the common stock a sum of gold, the residue of a legacy, which has enabled me to complete my education.  A poor scholar cannot boast much; but I trust we shall soon put ourselves beyond the reach of want; and if we should fail, why, I must depend, like other scholars, upon my brains to carry me through the world.”

The philosopher’s spirits, however, were more depressed than the student had imagined.  This last shock, following in the rear of so many disappointments, had almost destroyed the reaction of his mind.  The fire of an enthusiast, however, is never so low but that it may be blown again into a flame.  By degrees, the old man was cheered and reanimated by the buoyancy and ardour of his sanguine companion.