“There, ould gintleman, what will ye be after giving me for that?  Sure the luck is come to the right colleen at last.”

“I deal but in the precious metals and stones,” replied Isaac, quietly.

“Sure, and isn’t gould a precious metal?”

“Do you offer me this for gold?  This is not even a metal.  It is mica—­yellow mica.

“Mikee?” cried Mary, ruefully, with an inquiring look.

At this juncture in ran George, hot as fire.  “There!” cried he, triumphantly to Robinson, “was I right or wrong?  What becomes of your gold-dust?” And he laid a nugget as big as his fist on the table.

“Ochone!” cried the Irishwoman, “they all have the luck barrin’ poor Molly McDogherty.”

The mica was handled, and George said to her compassionately, “You see, my poor girl, the first thing you should do is to heft it in your hand.  Now see, your lump is not heavy like—­”

“Pyrites!” said Isaac, dryly, handing George back his lump.  “No! pyrites is heavier than mica—­and gold than pyrites.”

“Mr. Levi, don’t go to tell me this is not a metal,” remonstrated George, rather sulkily, “for I won’t have it.”

“Nay, it is a metal,” replied Levi, calmly, “and a very useful metal, but not of the precious metals.  It is iron.”

“How can it be iron when it is yellow?  And how is one to know iron from gold, at any rate?”

“Be patient, my son.” said the old Jew calmly, “and learn.  Take this needle.  Here is a scale of gold; take it up on the needle-point.  You have done it.  Why?  Because gold is a soft metal.  Now take up this scale from your pyrites?”

“I can’t.”

“No, because iron is a hard metal.  Here is another childish test—­a bloodstone, called by some the touchstone.  Rub the pyrites on it.  It colors it not—­a hard metal.  Now rub this little nugget of pure gold I have just bought.”

“Ay! this stains the stone yellow.”

“A soft metal.  Here in this little phial is muriatic acid.  Pour a drop on my nugget.  The metal defies it.  Now pour on your pyrites.  See how it smokes and perishes.  It cannot resist the acid.  There are many other tests, but little needed.  No metal, no earthly substance, resembles gold in the least.”

“Not to a Jew’s eye,” whispered Robinson.

“And much I marvel that any man or even any woman who has been in a gold mine and seen and handled virgin gold should take mica” (here he knocked the mica clean off the table) “or pyrites” (here he spanged that in another direction) “for the royal metal.”

“I’ll tell you what to do, Mary,” began Robinson, cheerfully.  “Hallo! she is crying.  Here is a faint heart.”

“Och! captain dear, Pat an’ me we are kilt right out for want of luck.  Oh! oh!  We niver found but one gould—­and that was mikee.  We can’t fall upon luck of any sort—­good, bad or indifferent—­that is where I’m broke and spiled and kilt hintirely.  Oh! oh! oh!”