collection, and he came over the sea, hoping to dispose of them to the government of this country.  Failing in his purpose, his means dwindling day by day, he was obliged to pledge a portion of his treasure that he might be able to live.  It cut him to the heart to divide the collection:  he had the history of the world in those incontrovertible records of brass and silver and gold, currency of the old Hindoo, of the Assyrian—­medals where Alexander’s superb profile shone crowned as Apollo—­coins of the Ptolemies, of the Caesars, of almost every people and generation from the beginning of civilization till to-day.  But divide them he did, and left a part of them in other hands, and went to the North.  There, driven by necessity, he pledged another portion; and after a while, wishing to redeem the latter pledge, and not being allowed to do so, he began a lawsuit to obtain it.  The court decided the case against him; and the little man, half crazed, unable to obtain the portion he had pledged in Washington, and now seeing this also leave him, cried out in the open court, “O unjust judge!  God shall demand your soul of you!” And the judge, with a sudden exclamation, fell backward, and before the sun set he was dead.  The little numismatician returned to Washington, and having failed in all the hopes of his life, took translating and any other writing he could find to do.  But there a certain high official having treated him unworthily, he adjured him much as he had adjured the unjust judge; and a fortnight afterward the official had gone to join the judge.  It is hardly surprising if there were a vague feeling toward this really excellent man and scholar as toward one having the evil eye, whom people dread to meet and fear to offend.

But here is another individual with another experience.  Gems are his passion, and for years he has sacrificed to it.  He is only an old clerk on a moderate salary, but no misadventure has ever disturbed his plans, and year by year he has added some treasure to his hoard till it is unique as it is precious.  There are rings of bishops and kings; jeweled baubles from Egyptian tombs and gold-wrought ornaments of the Montezumas; a cameo where a single face with its shadows makes six laughing and six weeping outlines; a cat’s-eye quartz to which the one the king of Siam has is perhaps the mate; diamonds and pearls, amethysts and topazes, beryls and opals, single emeralds of rare beauty and doublets of great size, rubies of the real pigeon’s blood, and sapphires whose heart is blue as the bluest midnight, but whose angles refract a radiance red as fire; chains of carved beads; seals, intaglios,—­to almost all of them some legend attaching.