off, too, sometimes--ha! ha! ha!"
laughed out the old man, with a fiendish cackle. "Ach, der Davis!"

Without knowing in what sense to take the words, Beecher did not exactly
like them; and as little was he pleased with that singular recurrence
to "der Davis," and the little sigh that followed. He was growing
impatient, besides, to get his money, and again reverted to the
question.

"He look well? I hope he have de goot gesundheit--what you call it?"

"To be sure he does; nothing ever ails him. I never heard him complain
of as much as a headache.

"Ach, der Davis, der Davis!" said the old man, shaking his head.

Seeing no chance of success by his direct advances, Beecher thought he
'd try a little flank attack by inducing a short conversation, and so he
said, "I am on my way to Davis, now, with his daughter, whom he left in
my charge."

"Whose daughter?" asked the Jew.

"Davis's,--a young lady that was educated at Brussels."

"He have no daughter. Der Davis have no daughter."

"Has n't he, though? Just come over to the 'Four Nations,' and I 'll
show her to you. And such a stunning girl too!"

"No, no, I never belief it--never; he did never speak to me of a
daughter."

"Whether he did or not--there she is, that's all I know."

The Jew shook his head, and sought refuge in his former muttering of
"Ach, der Davis!"

"As far as not telling you about his daughter, I can say he never told
me, and I fancy we were about as intimate as most people; but the fact
is as I tell you."

Another sigh was all his answer, and Beecher was fast reaching the limit
of his patience.

"Daughter, or no daughter, I want a matter of a couple of thousand
florins,--no objection to a trifle more, of course,--and wish to know
how you can let me have them."

"The Margraf was here two week ago, and he say to me, 'Lazarus,' say
he,--'Lazarus, where is your goot friend Davis?' 'Highness,' say I, 'dat
I know not.' Den he say, 'I will find him, if I go to Jerusalem;' and I
say, 'Go to Jerusalem.'"

"What did he want with him?"

"What he want?--what every one want, and what nobody get, except how he
no like--ha! ha! ha! Ach, der Davis!"

Beecher rose from his seat, uncertain how to take this continued
inattention to his demand. He stood for a moment in hesitation, his eyes
wandering over the walls where the pictures were hanging.

"Ah! if you do care for art, now you suit yourself, and all for a
noting! I sell all dese,--dat Gerar