s quaint
carvings, and its bamboo roof, it was the very type of what one sees
in a comic opera. One sash of the little window lay open, and showed
Beecher the figure of a very small old man, who, in a long dressing-gown
of red-brown stuff, and a fez cap, was seated at a table, writing. A
wooden tray in front of him was filled with dollars and gold pieces in
long stately columns, and a heap of bank-notes lay pressed under a heavy
leaden slab at his side. No sooner had Beecher's figure darkened the
window than the old man looked up and came out to meet him, and, taking
off his cap with a deep reverence, invited him to enter. If the size of
the chamber, and its curious walls covered over with cabinet pictures,
might have attracted Beecher's attention at another moment, all his
wonderment, now, was for the little man himself, whose piercing black
eyes, long beard, and hooked nose gave him an air of almost unearthly
meaning.

"I suppose I have the honor to speak to Mr. Stein?" said he, in English,
"and that he can understand me in my own tongue?"

"Yaas,--go on," said the old man.

"I was told to call upon you by Captain Davis; he gave me your address."

"Ah, der Davis--der Davis--a vaary goot man--my vaary dear friend. You
are der rich Englander that do travel wit him,--eh?"

"I am travelling with him just now," said Beecher, laughing slightly;
"but as to being rich,--why, we 'll not dispute about it."

"Yaas, here is his letter. He says, Milord will call on you hisself, and
so I hold myself--how you say 'bereit?'--ready--hold myself ready to see
you. I have de honor to make you very mush welcome to my poor house."

Beecher thanked him courteously, and, producing Davis's letter,
mentioned the amount for which he desired to draw.

The old man examined the writing, the signature, and then the seal,
handing the document back when he had finished, muttering to himself,
"Ah, der Davis--der Davis!"

"You know my friend very intimately, I believe?" asked Beecher.

"I belief I do,--I belief I do," said he, with a low chuckle to himself.

"So he mentioned to me and added one or two little matters on which I
was to ask you for some information. But first this bill,--you can let
me have these two thousand florins?"

"And what do he do now, der Davis?" asked the Jew, not heeding the
question.

"Well, I suppose he rubs on pretty much the same as ever," said Beecher,
in some confusion.

"Yaas--yaas--he rub on--and he rub