"When the country became quieter I went down into the plains, looked over
the battle-fields, and obtained a great deal of information from the
villagers and country people. I stayed here nearly two years, and had a
pretty hard time of it; but when I went away I took with me a very
valuable collection of notes.

"For many years I made no use of these notes; but being in Halicarnassus,
I heard of Herodotus, who was described as a great scholar and traveler,
and engaged in writing history. To him I applied without loss of time, and
I made a regular engagement, working several hours with him every day. For
this he paid me weekly a sum equal to about two dollars and seventy-five
cents of our present money; but it was enough to support me, and I was
very glad to have the opportunity of sending some of my experiences and
observations down into history. It was at this time that the love of
literary work began to arise within me, and in the next three or four
centuries after the death of Herodotus I wrote a number of books on
various subjects and under various names, and some of these, as
I mentioned before, were destroyed with the Alexandrian Library.

"It was in this period that I made the acquaintance of an editor--the
first editor, in fact, of whom I know anything at all. I was in Rhodes,
and there was a learned man there named Andronicus, who was engaged in
editing the works of Aristotle. All the manuscripts and books which that
great philosopher left behind him had been given to a friend, or trustee,
and had passed from this person into the possession of others, so that for
about a hundred years the world knew nothing of them. Then they came into
the hands of Andronicus, who undertook to edit them and get them into
proper shape for publication. I went to Andronicus, and as soon as he
found I was a person qualified for such work, he engaged me as his
assistant editor. I held this position for several years, and two or three
of the books of Aristotle I transcribed entirely with my own hand,
properly shaping sentences and paragraphs, and very often making the
necessary divisions. From my experience with Andronicus, I am sure that
none of the works of Aristotle were given to the world exactly as he wrote
them, for we often found his manuscript copies very rough and disjointed
so far as literary construction is concerned, but I will also say that we
never interfered with his philosophical theories or his scientific
statements and deductions."

"In all that time thee never married?" asked Mrs. Crowder.

Crowder and I could not help laughing.

"I did not say so," said he, "but I will say that, with one exception,
I do not remember any interesting matrimonial alliances which occurred
during the period of my literary labors. I married a young woman of
Rhodes, and gave her a very considerable establishment, which I was able
to do, for Andronicus paid me much better than Herodotus had done; but she
did not prove a very suitable helpmeet, and I believe she married me
simply because I was in fairly good circumstances. She soon showed that
she preferred a young man to an elderly student, the greater part of whose
time was occupied with books and manuscripts, and we had not been married
a year when she ran away with a young goldsmith, and disappeared from
Rhodes, as I discovered, on a vessel bound for Rome. I resigned myself
to my loss, and did not even try to obtain news of her. I was too much
engrossed in my work to be interested in a runaway wife.

"It was a little more than half a century after this that I was in Rome
and sitting on the steps of one of the public buildings in the Forum.
I was waiting to meet some one with whom I had business, and while I sat
there an old woman stopped in front of me. She was evidently poor, and
wretchedly dressed; her scanty hair was gray, and her face was wrinkled
and shrunken. I thought, of course, she was a beggar, and was about to
give her something, when she clasped her hands in front of her and
exclaimed, 'How like! How like! How like!' 'Like whom?' said I. 'What are
you talking about?' 'Like your father,' she said, 'like your father! You
are so like him, you resemble him so much in form and feature, in the way
you sit, in everything, that you must be his son!' 'I have no doubt I am
my father's son,' said I, 'and what do you know about him?' 'I married
him,' she said. 'For nearly a year I was his wife, and then I foolishly
ran away and left him. What became of him I know not, nor how long he
lived, but he was a great deal older than I was, and must have passed away
many years ago. But thou art his image. He had the same ruddy face, the
same short white hair, the same broad shoulders, the same way of crossing
his legs as he sat. He must have married soon after I left him. Tell me,
whom did he marry? What was thy mother's name?' I gave her the name of my
real mother, and she shook her head. 'I never heard of her,' she said.
'Did thy father ever speak of me, a wife who ran away from him?' 'Yes; he
has spoken of you--that is, if you are Zalia, the daughter of an
oil-merchant of Rhodes?'

[Illustration: "'HOW LIKE!'"]

"'I am that woman,' she exclaimed, 'I am that woman! And did he mourn my
loss?'

"'Not much, I think, not much.' Then I became a little nervous, for if
this old woman talked to me much longer I was afraid, in spite of the
fact that I was an elderly man when she was a girl, that she would become
convinced that I could not be the son of the man who had once been her
husband, but must be that man himself. So I hastily excused myself on the
plea of business, and after having given her some money I left her."

"And did thee never see her again?" his wife asked, almost with tears in
her eyes.

"No, I never saw her again," said Mr. Crowder; "I was careful not to do
that: but I did not neglect her; I caused good care to be taken of her
until she died."

There was a slight pause here, and then Mrs. Crowder said:

"Thee has known a great deal of poverty; in nearly all thy stories thee is
a poor man."

"There is good reason for that," said Mr. Crowder; "poor people frequently
have more adventures, at least more interesting ones, than those who are
in easy circumstances. Possession of money is apt to make life smoother
and more commonplace; so, in selecting the most interesting events of my
career to tell you, I naturally describe periods of comparative
poverty--and there were some periods in which I was in actual want of the
necessaries of life.

"But you must not suppose that I have always been poor. I have had my
periods of wealth, but, as I explained to you before, it was very
difficult, on account of the frequent necessity of changing my place of
residence, as well as my identity, to carry over my property from one set
of conditions to another. However, I have often been able to do this, and
at one time I was in comfortable circumstances for nearly two hundred
years. But generally, when I found myself obliged to leave a place where
I had been living, for fear of suspicion concerning my age, I had to
leave everything behind me.

"I will tell you a little story about one of my attempts, to provide for
the future. It was toward the end of the fifteenth century, about the time
that Columbus set out on his first voyage of discovery,--and you would be
surprised, considering the important results of his voyage, to know how
little sensation it caused in Europe,--that I devised a scheme by which
I thought I might establish for myself a permanent fortune. I was then
living in Genoa, and was carrying on the same business in which I am now
engaged. I was a broker, a dealer in money and commercial paper. I was
prosperous and well able to carry out the plan I had formed. This plan
was a simple one. I would purchase jewels, things easily carried about or
concealed, and which would be valuable in any country or any age; and with
this idea in my mind I spent many years in collecting valuable stones and
jewels, confining myself generally to rings, for I wished to make the bulk
of my treasures very small when compared with their value.

"About the middle of the sixteenth century I went to Rome, and took my
jewels with me. They were then a wonderfully fine collection of gems, some
of them of great antiquity and value; for, in gradually gathering them
together, the enthusiasm of the collector had possessed me, and I often
traveled far to possess myself of a valuable jewel of which I had heard.
I remained in Rome as long as I dared do so, and then prepared to set out
for Egypt, which I had not visited for a long time, and where I expected
to find interesting though depressing changes. I concluded, naturally
enough, that it would be dangerous for me to take my treasures with me,
and I could conceive of no place where it would be better to leave them
than in the Eternal City. Rome was central and comparatively easy of
access from any part of the world, and, moreover, was less liable to
changes than any other place; so I determined to leave my treasures in
Rome, and to put them somewhere where they were not likely to be
disturbed by the march of improvement, by the desolations of war and
conquest, or to become lost to me by the action of nature. I decided to
bury them in the catacombs. With these ancient excavations I was familiar,
and I believed that in their dark and mysterious recesses I could conceal
my jewels, and that I could find them again when I wanted them.

"I procured a small box made of thick bronze, and in this I put all my
rings and gems, and with them I inclosed several sheets of parchment,
on which I had written, with the fine ink the monks used in engrossing
their manuscripts, a detailed description, and frequently a history, of
every one of these valuable objects. Having securely fastened up the box,
I concealed it in my clothing and then made my way to the catacombs.

"It was a dark and rainy evening, and as the entrances to the catacombs
were not guarded in those days, it was not difficult for me to make my
way unseen into their interior. I had brought with me a tinder-box and
several rushlights, and as soon as I felt secure from observation from
the outside I struck a light and began my operations. Then, according to
a plan I had previously made, I slowly walked along the solemn passageway
which I had entered.

"My plan of procedure was a very simple one, and I had purposely made it
so in order that it might be more easily remembered. I was well acquainted
with the position of the opening by which I had entered. For several days
I had studied carefully its relation to other points in the surrounding
country. Starting from this opening, my plan was to proceed inward through
the long corridor until I came to a transverse passage; to pass this until
I reached another; to pass this also, and to go on until I came to a
third; then I would turn to my left and proceed until I had passed two
other transverse passages and reached a third; then I would again turn
to my left and count the open tombs on my left hand. When I reached the
third tomb I would stop. Thus there would be a series of three threes,
and it was scarcely possible that I could forget that.

"At this period a great many of the tombs were open, having been despoiled
even of the few bones they contained. The opening at which I stopped was
quite a large one, and when I put my light inside I found it was entirely
empty.

"Lighting another rush-candle, I stuck it in the bottom of the tomb, which
was about four feet above the floor of the passage, and drawing my large
dagger, I proceeded to dig a hole in the left-hand corner nearest the
front. The earth was dry and free from stones, and I soon made a hole two
feet deep, at the bottom of which I placed my box. Then I covered it up,
pressing the earth firmly down into the hole. When this was entirely
filled, I smoothed away the rest of the earth I had taken out, and after
I finished my work, the floor of the tomb did not look as if it had been
disturbed. Then I went away, reached the passage three tombs from me,
turned to the right, went on until I reached the third transverse passage,
then went on until I came to the entrance. It was raining heavily, but
I was glad to get out into the storm."

[Illustration: "'I PROCEEDED TO DIG A HOLE.'"]

"Now, please hurry on," said Mrs. Crowder. "When did thee get them again?"

"A great many things happened in Egypt," said Mr. Crowder, "some pleasant
and some unpleasant, and they kept me there a long time. After that I went
to Constantinople, and subsequently resided in Greece and in Venice.
I lived very comfortably during the greater part of this period, and
therefore there was no particular reason why I should go after my jewels.
So it happened that, for one cause or another, I did not go back to Rome
until early in the nineteenth century, and I need not assure you that
almost the first place I visited was the catacombs.

"After three hundred years of absence I found the entrance, but if I had
not so well noted its position in relation to certain ruins and natural
objects I should not have recognized it. It was not now a wide opening
through which a man might walk; it was a little hole scarcely big enough
for a fox to crawl through; in fact, I do not believe there would have
been any opening there at all if it had not been for the small animals
living in the catacombs, which had maintained this opening for the purpose
of going in and out. It was broad daylight when I found this entrance. Of
course I did not attempt to do anything then, but in the night, when there
was no moon, I came with a spade. I enlarged the hole, crawled through,
and after a time found myself in a passageway, which was unobstructed."

"Now, hurry on," said Mrs. Crowder.

"I brought no rushlights with me this time," said Mr. Crowder. "I had a
good lantern, and I walked steadily on until I came to the third
transverse passage; I turned to the left, counted three more passages;
I turned to the left, I walked on slowly, I examined the left-hand wall,
and apparently there were no open tombs. This startled me, but I soon
found that I had been mistaken. I saw some tombs which were not open, but
which had been opened and were now nearly filled with the dust of ages.
I stopped before the first of these; then I went on and clearly made out
the position of another; then I came to the third: that was really open,
although the aperture was much smaller than it had been. It did not look
as I remembered it, but without hesitation I took a trowel which I had
brought with me, and began to dig in the nearest left-hand corner.

"I dug and I dug until I had gone down more than two feet; then I dug on
and on until, standing in the passage as I was, I could not reach down any
deeper into the hole I had made. So I crawled into the tomb, crouched down
on my breast, and dug down and down as far as I could reach.

"Then," said Mr. Crowder, looking at us as he spoke, "I found the box."

A great sigh of relief came from Mrs. Crowder.

"I was so afraid," said she--"I was so afraid it had sunk out of reach."

"No," said he; "its weight had probably made it settle down, and then the
dust of ages, as I remarked before, had accumulated over it. That sort
of thing is going on in Rome all the time. But I found my box, and, after
hours and hours of wandering, I got out of the catacombs."

"How was that?" we both asked.

"I was so excited at the recovery of my treasures after the lapse of three
centuries that when I turned into the first passage I forgot to count
those which crossed it, and my mind became so thoroughly mixed up in
regard to this labyrinth that I don't know when I would have found my way
out if I had not heard a little animal--I don't know what it was
--scurrying away in front of me. I followed it, and eventually saw a
little speck of light. That proved to be the hole through which I had come
in."

"What did thee do with the jewels?" asked Mrs. Crowder.

Her husband looked at his watch, and then held it with the face toward
her.

She gave a cry of surprise, and we all went up-stairs to bed.




V


"Now, my dear," said Mrs. Crowder, the moment we had finished dinner on the
next evening, "I want thee to tell us immediately what thee did with the
jewels. I have been thinking about that all day; and I believe, if I had
been with thee, I could have given thee some good advice, so that the
money thee received for these treasures would have lasted thee a long
time."

"I have thought on that subject many times," said Mr. Crowder, "not only
in regard to this case, but others, and have formed hundreds of plans for
carrying my possessions into another set of social conditions; but the
fact of being obliged to change my identity always made it impossible
for me to avail myself of the advantages of commercial paper, legal deeds,
and all titles to property."

"Thee might have put thy wealth into solid gold--great bars and lumps.
Those would be available in any country and in any age, and they
wouldn't have had anything to do with thy identity," said his wife.

"It was always difficult for me to carry about or even conceal such golden
treasures, but I have sometimes done it. However, as you are in such a
hurry to hear about the jewels, I will let all other subjects drop. When
I reached my lodgings in Rome, I opened the box, and found everything
perfect; the writing on the sheets of parchment was still black and
perfectly legible, and the jewels looked just as they did when I put them
into the box."

"I cannot imagine," interrupted Mrs. Crowder, "how thee remembered what
they looked like after the lapse of three hundred years."

Mr. Crowder smiled. "You forget," he said, "that since I first reached
the age of fifty-three there has been no radical change in me,
physical or mental. My memory is just as good now as it was when I reached
my fifty-third birthday, in the days of Abraham. It is impossible for me
to forget anything of importance, and I remembered perfectly the
appearance of those gems. But my knowledge of such things had been greatly
improved by time and experience, and after I had spent an hour or two
looking over my treasures, I felt sure that they were far more valuable
than they were when they came into my possession. In fact, it was a
remarkable collection of precious stones, considering it in regard to its
historic as well as its intrinsic value.

"I shall not attempt to describe my various plans for disposing of my
treasures; but I soon found that it would not be wise for me to try to
sell them in Rome. I had picked out one of the least valuable engraved
stones, and had taken it to a lapidary, who readily bought it at his
own valuation, and paid me with great promptness; but after he had secured
it he asked me so many questions about it, particularly how I had come
into possession of it, that I was very sure that he had made a wonderful
bargain, and was also convinced that it would not do for me to take any
more of my gems to him. Those Roman experts knew too much about antique
jewels.

"I went to Naples, where I had a similar experience. Then I found it would
be well for me, if I did not wish to be arrested as a thief who had robbed
a museum, to endeavor to sell my collection as a whole in some other
country. As a professional dealer in gems from a foreign land I would be
less liable to suspicion than if I endeavored to peddle my jewels one at a
time. So I determined to go to Madrid and try to sell my collection there.

"When I reached Spain I found the country in a great turmoil. This was in
1808, when Napoleon was on the point of invading Spain; but as
politicians, statesmen, and military men were not in the habit of buying
ancient gems, I still hoped that I might be able to transact the business
which had brought me to the country. My collection would be as valuable to
a museum then as at any time; for it was not supposed that the French were
coming into the country to ravage and destroy the great institutions of
learning and art. I made acquaintances in Madrid, and before long I had an
opportunity of exhibiting my collection to a well-known dealer and
connoisseur, who was well acquainted with the officers of the Royal
Museum. I thought it would be well to sell them through his agency, even
though I paid him a high commission.

"If I should say that this man was astounded as well as delighted when he
saw my collection, I should be using very feeble expressions; for, carried
away by his enthusiasm, he did not hesitate to say to me that it was the
most valuable collection he had ever seen. Even if the stones had been
worthless in themselves, their historic value was very great. Of course he
wanted to know where I had obtained these treasures, and I informed him
truthfully that I had traveled far and wide in order to gather them
together. I told him the history of many of them, but entirely omitted
mentioning anything which would give a clue to the times and periods when
I had come into possession of them.

"This dealer undertook the sale of my jewels. We arranged them in a
handsome box lined with velvet and divided into compartments, and I made
a catalogue of them, copied from my ancient parchments--which would have
ruined me had I inadvertently allowed them to be seen. He put himself into
communication with the officers of the museum, and I left the matter
entirely in his hands.

"In less than a week I became aware that I was an object of suspicion.
I called on the dealer, but he was not to be seen. I found that I was
shadowed by officers of the law. I wrote to the dealer, but received no
answer. One evening, when I returned to my lodgings, I found that they had
been thoroughly searched. I became alarmed, and the conviction forced
itself upon me that the sooner I should escape from Madrid, the better for
me."

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder, "and leave thy jewels behind? Thee
certainly did not do that!"

"Ah, my dear," replied her husband, "you do not comprehend the situation.
It was very plain that the authorities of the museum did not believe that
a private individual, a stranger, was likely to be the legitimate owner of
these treasures. Had my case been an ordinary one I should have courted
investigation; but how could I prove that I had been an honest man three
hundred years before? A legal examination, not so much on account of the
jewels, but because of the necessary assertion of my age, would have been
a terrible ordeal.

"I hurried to the dealer's shop, but found it closed. Inquiring of a woman
in a neighboring door-step, I was informed that the dealer had been
arrested. I asked no more. I did not return to my lodgings, and that night
I left Madrid."

I could not repress an exclamation of distress, and Mrs. Crowder cried:
"Did thee really go away and leave thy jewels? Such a thing is too
dreadful to think of. But perhaps thee got them again?"

"No," said Mr. Crowder; "I never saw them again, nor ever heard of them.
But now that it is impossible for any one to be living who might recognize
me, I hope to go to Madrid and see those gems. I have no doubt that they
are in the museum."

"And I," exclaimed Mrs. Crowder--"I shall go with thee; I shall see them."

"Indeed you shall," said her husband, taking her affectionately by the
hand. And then he turned to me. "You may think," said he, "that I was too
timid, that I was too ready to run away from danger; but it is hard for
any one but myself readily to appreciate my horror of a sentence to
imprisonment or convict labor for life."

"Oh, horrible!" said his wife, with tears in her eyes. "Then thee would
have despaired indeed."

"No," said he; "I should not even have had that consolation. Despair is a
welcome to death. A man who cannot die cannot truly despair. But do not
let us talk upon such a melancholy subject."

"No, no," cried Mrs. Crowder; "I am glad thee left those wretched jewels
behind thee. And thee got away safely?"

"Oh, yes; I had some money left. I traveled by night and concealed myself
by day, and so got out of Spain. Soon after I crossed the Pyrenees I found
myself penniless, and was obliged to work my way."

"Poverty again!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder. "It is dreadful to hear so much
of it. If thee could only have carried away with thee one of thy diamonds,
thee might have cracked it up into little pieces, and thee might have sold
these, one at a time, without suspicion."

"I never thought of being a vender of broken diamonds, and there is
nothing suspicious about honest labor. The object of my present endeavors
was to reach England, and I journeyed northward. It was nearly a month
after I had entered France that I was at a little village on the Garonne,
repairing a stone wall which divided a field from the road, and I assure
you I was very glad to get this job.

"It was here that I heard of the near approach of Napoleon's army on its
march into Spain; that the news was true was quickly proved, for very soon
after I had begun my work on the wall the country to the north seemed to
be filled with cavalry, infantry, artillery, baggage-wagons, and
everything that pertained to an army. About noon there was a general halt,
and in the field the wall of which I was repairing a body of officers made
a temporary encampment.

"I paid as little apparent attention as possible to what was going on
around me, but proceeded steadily with my work, although I assure you
I had my eyes wide open all the time. I was thinking of stopping work in
order to eat my dinner, which I had with me, when a party of officers
approached me on their way to a little hill in the field. One of them
stopped and spoke to me, and as he did so the others halted and stood
together a little way off. The moment I looked at the person who
addressed me I knew him. It was Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Then thee has seen the great Napoleon," almost whispered Mrs. Crowder.

"And very much disappointed I was when I beheld him," remarked her
husband. "I had seen portraits of him, I had read and heard of his great
achievements, and I had pictured to myself a hero. Perhaps my experience
should have taught me that heroes seldom look like heroes, but for all
that I had had my ideal, and in appearance this man fell below it. His
face was of an olive color which was unequally distributed over his
features; he was inclined to be pudgy, and his clothes did not appear to
fit him; but for all that he had the air of a man who with piercing eyes
saw his way before him and did not flinch from taking it, rough as it
might be. 'You seem an old man for such work,' said he, 'but if you are
strong enough to lift those stones why are you not in the army?' As he
spoke I noticed that he had not the intonation of a true Frenchman. He
had the accent of the foreigner that he was.

[Illustration: "'WHY ARE YOU NOT IN THE ARMY?'"]

"'Sire,' said I, 'I am too old for the army, but in spite of my age I must
earn my bread.' I may state here that my hair and beard had been growing
since I left Madrid. For a moment the emperor regarded me in silence. 'Are
you a Frenchman?' said he. 'You speak too well for a stone-mason, and,
moreover, your speech is that of a foreigner who has studied French.' It
was odd that each of us should have remarked the accent of the other, but
I was not amused at this; I was becoming very nervous. 'Sire,' said
I, 'I come from Italy.' 'Were you born there?' asked he. My nervousness
increased. This man was too keen a questioner. 'Sire,' I replied, 'I was
born in the country southeast of Rome.' This was true enough, but it was a
long way southeast. 'Do you speak Spanish?' he abruptly asked.

"At this question my blood ran cold. I had had enough of speaking Spanish.
I was trying to get away from Spain and everything that belonged to that
country; but I thought it safest to speak the truth, and I answered that
I understood the language. The emperor now beckoned to one of his
officers, and ordered him to talk with me in Spanish. I had been in Spain
in the early part of the preceding century, and I had there learned to
speak the pure Castilian tongue, so that when the officer talked with me
I could see that he was surprised, and presently he told the emperor that
he had never heard any one who spoke such excellent Spanish. The emperor
fixed his eyes upon me. 'You must have traveled a great deal,' he said.
'You should not be wasting your time with stones and mortar.' Then,
turning to the officer who had spoken to me, he said, 'He understands
Spanish so well that we may make him useful.' He was about to address me
again, but was interrupted by the arrival of an orderly with a despatch.
This he read hastily, and walked toward the officers who were waiting for
him; but before he left me he ordered me to report myself at his tent,
which was not far off in the field. He then walked away, evidently
discussing the despatch, which he still held open in his hand.

"Now I was again plunged into the deepest apprehension and fear. I did not
want to go back to Spain, not knowing what might happen to me there. Every
evil thing was possible. I might be recognized, and the emperor might not
care to shield any one claimed by the law as an escaped thief. In an
instant I saw all sorts of dreadful possibilities. I determined to take
no chances. The moment the emperor's back was turned upon me I got over
the broken part of the wall and, interfered with by no one, passed quietly
along the road to the house of the man who had employed me to do his
mason-work, and seeing no one there,--for every window and door was
tightly closed,--I walked into the yard and went to the well, which was
concealed from the road by some shrubbery. I looked quickly about, and
perceiving that I was not in sight of any one, I got into the well and
went down to the bottom, assisting my descent by the well-rope. The water
was about five feet deep, and when I first entered it, it chilled me; but
nothing could chill me so much as the thought that I might be taken back
into Spain, no matter by whom or for what. I must admit that I was doing
then, and often had done, that which seemed very much like cowardice; but
people who can die cannot understand the fear which may come upon a person
who has not that refuge from misfortune.

"For the rest of the day I remained in the well, and when people came to
draw water--and this happened many times in the course of the afternoon
--I crouched down as much as I could; but at such times I would have been
concealed by the descending bucket, even if any one had chosen to look
down the well. This bucket was a heavy one with iron hoops, and I had a
great deal of trouble sometimes to shield my head from it."

"I should think thee would have taken thy death of cold," said Mrs.
Crowder, "staying in that cold well the whole afternoon."

"No," said her husband, with a smile; "I was not afraid of that. If
I should have taken cold I knew it would not be fatal, and although the
water chilled me at first, I became used to it. An hour or two after
nightfall I clambered up the well-rope,--and it was not an easy thing, for
although not stout, I am a heavy man,--and I got away over the fields with
all the rapidity possible. I did not look back to see if the army were
still on the road, nor did I ever know whether I had been searched for or
had been forgotten.

"I shall not describe the rest of my journey. There is nothing remarkable
about it except that it was beset with many hardships. I made my way into
Switzerland and so on down the Rhine, and it was nearly seven months after
I left Madrid before I reached England.

"I remained many years in Great Britain, living here and there, and was
greatly interested in the changes and improvements I saw around me. You
can easily understand this when I tell you it was in 1512, twenty years
after the discovery of America, that I had last been in England. I do not
believe that in any other part of the world the changes in three hundred
years could have been more marked and impressive.

"I had never visited Ireland, and as I had a great desire to see that
country, I made my way there as soon as possible, and after visiting the
most noted spots of the island I settled down to work as a gardener."

"Always poor," ejaculated Mrs. Crowder, with a sigh.

"No, not always," answered her husband. "But wandering sight-seers cannot
be expected to make much money. At this time I was very glad indeed to
cease from roving and enjoy the comforts of a home, even though it were a
humble one. The family with whom I took service was that of Maria
Edgeworth, who lived with her father in Edgeworthstown."

"What!" cried Mrs. Crowder, "'Lazy Lawrence,' 'Simple Susan,' and all the
rest of them? Was it that Miss Edgeworth?"

"Certainly," said he; "there never was but one Maria Edgeworth, and I
don't think there ever will be another. I soon became very well acquainted
with Miss Edgeworth. Her father was a studious man and a magistrate. He
paid very little attention to the house and garden, the latter of which
was almost entirely under the charge of his daughter Maria. She used to
come out among the flower-beds and talk to me, and as my varied experience
enabled me to tell her a great deal about fruits, flowers, and vegetables,
she became more and more interested in what I had to tell her. She was a
plain, sensible woman, anxious for information, and she lived in a very
quiet neighborhood where she did not often have opportunities of meeting
persons of intelligence and information. But when she found out that
I could tell her so many things, not only about plants but about the
countries where I had known them, she would sometimes spend an hour or two
with me, taking notes of what I said.

"During the time that I was her gardener she wrote the story of 'The
Little Merchants,' and as she did not know very much about Italy and
Naples, I gave her most of the points for that highly moral story. She
told me, in fact, that she did not believe she could have written it had
it not been for my assistance. She thought well to begin the story by
giving some explanatory 'Extracts from a Traveler's Journal' relative
to Italian customs, but afterward she depended entirely on me for all
points concerning distinctive national characteristics and the general
Italian atmosphere. As she became aware that I was an educated man and
had traveled in many countries, she was curious about my antecedents, but
of course my remarks in that direction were very guarded.

"One day, as she was standing looking at me as I was pruning a rose-bush,
she made a remark which startled me. I perfectly remember her words. 'It
seems to me,' she said, 'that one who is so constantly engaged in
observing and encouraging the growth and development of plants should
himself grow and develop. Roses of one year are generally better than
those of the year before. Then why is not the gardener better?' To these
words she immediately added, being a woman of kind impulses, 'But in the
case of a good gardener, such as you are, I've no doubt he does grow
better, year by year.'"

"What was there startling in that little speech?" asked Mrs. Crowder.
"I don't think she could have said anything less."

"I will tell you why I was startled," said her husband. "Almost those very
words--mark me, almost those very words--had been said to me when I was
working in the wonderful gardens of Nebuchadnezzar, and he was standing by
me watching me prune a rose-bush. That Maria Edgeworth and the great
Nebuchadnezzar should have said the same thing to me was enough to startle
me."

To this astounding statement Mrs. Crowder and I listened with wide-open
eyes.

"Yes," said Mr. Crowder; "you may think it amazing that a very ordinary
remark should connect 'The Parents' Assistant' with the city of Babylon,
but so it was. In the course of my life I have noticed coincidences quite
as strange.

"I spent many years in the city of Babylon, but the wonderful Hanging
Gardens interested me more than anything else the great city contained. At
the time of which I have just spoken I was one of Nebuchadnezzar's
gardeners, but not in the humble position which I afterward filled in
Ireland. I had under my orders fifteen slaves, and my principal duty was
to direct the labors of these poor men. These charming gardens, resting
upon arches high above the surface of the ground, watered by means of
pipes from the river Euphrates, and filled with the choicest flowers,
shrubs, and plants known to the civilization of the time, were a
ceaseless source of delight to me. Often, when I had finished the daily
work assigned to me and my men, I would wander over other parts of the
garden and enjoy its rare beauties.

"I frequently met Nebuchadnezzar, who for the time enjoyed his gardens
almost as much as I did. When relieved from the cares of state and his
ambitious plans, and while walking in the winding paths among sparkling
fountains and the fragrant flowerbeds, he seemed like a very ordinary man,
quiet and reflective, with very good ideas concerning nature and
architecture. The latter I learned from his frequent remarks to me.
I suppose it was because I appeared to be so much older and more
experienced than most of those who composed his little army of gardeners
that he often addressed me, asking questions and making suggestions; and
it was one afternoon, standing by me as I was at work in a rose-bed, that
he said the words which were spoken to me about twenty-four centuries
afterward by Maria Edgeworth. Now, wasn't that enough to startle a man?"

[Illustration: NEBUCHADNEZZAR AND THE GARDENER.]

"Startle!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder, "I should have screamed. I should have
thought that some one had come from the dead to speak to me. But I suppose
there was nothing about Maria Edgeworth which reminded thee of
Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon."

"Yes, there was," replied her husband: "there was the same meditative
expression of the eyes; the same reflective mood as each one began to
speak, as if he and she were merely thinking aloud; the same quick, kind
reference to me, as if the speaker feared that my feelings might have been
hurt by a presumption that I myself had not developed and improved.

"I had good reason to remember those words of Nebuchadnezzar, for they
were the last I ever heard him speak. A few days afterward I was informed
by the chief gardener that the king was about to make a journey across the
mountains into Media, and that he intended to establish there what would
now be called an experimental garden of horticulture, which was to be
devoted to growing and improving certain ornamental trees which did not
flourish in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. His expedition was not to be
undertaken entirely for this purpose, but he was a man who did a great
many things at once, and the establishment of these experimental grounds
was only one of the objects of his journey.

"The chief gardener then went on to say that the king had spoken to him
about me and had said that he would take me with him and perhaps put me in
charge of the new gardens.

"This mark of royal favor did not please me at all. I had hoped that I
might ultimately become the chief of the Babylonian gardens, and this
would have suited me admirably. It was a position of profit and some
honor, and when I thought that I had lived long enough in that part of the
world it would have been easy for me to make a journey into the
surrounding country on some errand connected with the business of the
gardens, and then quietly to disappear? But if I were to be taken into
Media it might not be easy for me to get away. Therefore I did not wait
to see Nebuchadnezzar again and receive embarrassing royal commands, but
I went to my home that night, and returned no more to the wonderful
Hanging Gardens of Babylon."

"I think thee was a great deal better off in the gardens of Maria
Edgeworth," said Mrs. Crowder, "for there thee could come and go as thee
pleased, and it almost makes my flesh creep when I think of thee living
in company with the bloody tyrants of the past. And always in poverty and
suffering, as if thee had been one of the common people, and not the
superior of every man around thee! I don't want to hear anything more
about the wicked Nebuchadnezzar. How long did thee stay with Maria
Edgeworth?"

"About four years," he replied; "and I might have remained much longer,
for in that quiet life the advance of one's years was not likely to be
noticed. I am sure Miss Edgeworth looked no older to me when I left her
than when I first saw her. But she was obliged to go into England to
nurse her sick stepmother, and after her departure the place had no
attractions for me, and I left Ireland."

"I wonder," said Mrs. Crowder, a little maliciously, "that thee did not
marry her."

Her husband laughed.

"Englishwomen of her rank in society do not marry their gardeners, and,
besides, in any case, she would not have suited me for a wife. For one
reason, she was too homely."

"Oh," exclaimed Mrs. Crowder, and she might have said more, but her
husband did not give her a chance.

"I know I have talked a great deal about my days of poverty and misery,
and now I will tell you something different. For a time I was the ruler of
all the Russias."

"Ruler!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder and I, almost in the same breath.

"Yes," said he, "absolute ruler. And this was the way of it:

"I was in Russia in the latter part of the seventeenth century, at a time
when there was great excitement in royal and political circles. The young
czar Feodor had recently died, and he had named as his successor his
half-brother Peter, a boy ten years of age, who afterward became Peter the
Great. The late czar's young brother Ivan should have succeeded him, but
he was almost an idiot. In this complicated state of things, the
half-sister of Peter, the Princess Sophia, a young woman of wonderful
ambition and really great abilities, rose to the occasion. She fomented a
revolution; there was fighting, with all sorts of cruelties and horrors,
and when affairs had quieted down she was princess regent, while the two
boys, Ivan and Peter, were waiting to see what would happen next.

"She was really a woman admirably adapted to her position. She was well
educated, wrote poetry, and knew how to play her part in public affairs.
She presided in the councils, and her authority was without control; but
she was just as bloody-minded and cruel as anybody else in Russia.

"Now, it so happened when the Princess Sophia was at the height of her
power, that I was her secretary. For five or six years I had been a teacher
of languages in Moscow, and at one time I had given lessons to the
princess. In this way she had become well acquainted with me, and having
frequently called upon me for information of one sort or another, she
concluded to make me her secretary. Thus I was established at the court of
Russia. I had charge of all Sophia's public papers, and I often had a good
deal to do with her private correspondence, but she signed and sealed all
papers of importance.

"The Prince Galitzin, who had been her father's minister and was now
Sophia's main supporter in all her autocratic designs and actions, found
himself obliged to leave Moscow to attend to his private affairs on his
great estates, and to be absent for more than a month; and after his
departure the princess depended on me more than ever. Like many women in
high positions, it was absolutely necessary for her to have a man on whom
she could lean with one hand while she directed her affairs with the
other."

"I do not think that is always necessary," said Mrs. Crowder, "at least, in
these days."

"Perhaps not," said her husband, with a smile, "but it was then. But I must
get on with my story. One morning soon after Galitzin's departure, the
horses attached to the royal sledge ran away just outside of Moscow. The
princess was thrown out upon the hard ground, and badly dislocated her
right wrist. By the time she had been taken back to the palace her arm and
hand were dreadfully swollen, and it was difficult for her surgeons to do
anything for her.

"I was called into the princess's room just after the three surgeons had
been sent to prison. I found her in great trouble, mental as well as
physical, and her principal anxiety was that she was afraid it would be a
long time before she would be able to use her hand and sign and seal the
royal acts and decrees. She had a certain superstition about this which
greatly agitated her. If she could not sign and seal, she did not believe
she would be able to rule. Any one who understood the nature of the
political factions in Russia well knew that an uprising among the nobles
might occur upon any pretext, and no pretext could be so powerful as the
suspicion of incompetency in the sovereign. The seat of a ruler who did
not rule was extremely uncertain.

"At that moment a paper of no great importance, which had been sent in to
her before she went out in her sledge that morning, was lying on the table
near her couch, and she was greatly worried because she could not sign it.
I assured her she need not trouble herself about it, for I could attend to
it. I had often affixed her initials and seal to unimportant papers.

"The princess did not object to my proposition, but this was not enough
for her. She had a deep mind, and she quickly concocted a scheme by which
her public business should be attended to, while at the same time it
should not be known that she did not attend to it. She caused it to be
given out that it was her ankle which had been injured, and not her wrist.
She sent for another surgeon, and had him locked up in the palace when he
was not attending to her, so that he should tell no tales. Her ladies were
informed that it would be very well for them to keep silent, and they
understood her. Then she arranged with me that all public business should
be brought to her; that I should sign and seal in her place, and should be
her agent of communication with the court.

"When this plan had been settled upon, the princess regained something of
her usual good spirits. 'As I never sign my name with my toes,' she said
to me, 'there is no reason why a sprained ankle should interfere with my
royal functions, and, for the present, you can be my right hand.'

"This was a very fine plan, but it did not work as she expected it would.
Her wrist became more and more painful, and fever set in, and on the
second day, when I called upon her, I found she was in no condition to
attend to business. She was irritable and drowsy. 'Don't annoy me with
that paper,' she said. 'If the wool-dealers ought to have their taxes
increased, increase them. You should not bring these trifles to me; but'
--and now she regained for a moment her old acuteness--'remember this:
don't let my administration stop.'

"I understood her very well, and when I left her I saw my course plain
before me. It was absolutely necessary that the exercise of royal
functions by the Princess Sophia should appear to go on in its usual way;
any stoppage would be a signal for a revolution. In order that this plan
should be carried out, I must act for the princess regent; I must do what
I thought right, and it must be done in her name, exactly as if she had
ordered it. I assumed the responsibilities without hesitation. While it
was supposed I was merely the private secretary of the princess, acting as
her agent and mouthpiece, I was in fact the ruler of all the Russias."

Mrs. Crowder opened her mouth as if she would gasp for breath, but she did
not say anything.

"You can scarcely imagine, my dear," said he, "the delight with which
I assumed the powers so suddenly thrust upon me. I set myself to work
without delay, and, as I knew all about the wool-dealers' business,
I issued a royal decree decreasing their taxes. Poor creatures! they
were suffering enough already."

"Good for thee!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder.

"I cannot tell you of all the reforms I devised, or even those which
I carried out. I knew that the fever of the princess, aggravated by the
inflammation of her dislocated wrist, would continue for some time, and
I bent all my energies to the work of doing as much good as I could in the
vast empire under my control while I had the opportunity. And it was a
great opportunity, indeed! I did not want to do anything so radical as to
arouse the opposition of the court, and therefore I directed my principal
efforts to the amelioration of the condition of the people in the
provinces. It would be a long time before word could get back to the
capital of what I had done in those distant regions. By night and by day
my couriers were galloping in every direction, carrying good news to the
peasants of Russia. It was remarked by some of the councilors, when they
spoke of the municipal reforms I instituted, that the princess seemed to
be in a very humane state of mind; but none of them cared to interfere
with what they supposed to be the sick-bed workings of her conscience. So
I ruled with a high hand, astonishing the provincial officials, and
causing thousands of downtrodden subjects to begin to believe that perhaps
they were really human beings, with some claim on royal justice and
kindness.

"I fairly reveled in my imperial power, but I never forgot to be prudent.
I lessened the duties and slightly increased the pay of the military
regiments stationed in and about Moscow, and thus the Princess Sophia
became very popular with the army, and I felt safe. I went in to see the
princess every day, and several times when she was in her right mind she
asked me if everything was going on well, and once when I assured her that
all was progressing quietly and satisfactorily, she actually thanked me.
This was a good deal for a Russian princess. If she had known how the
people were thanking _her_, I do not know what would have happened.

"For twenty-one days I reigned over Russia. If I had been able to do it,
I should have made each day a year; I felt that I was in my proper place."