ifications, what would you
say to the purse of dirhems, surrounded by seven thousand scimitars?'

'Seven thousand scimitars!' 'Not one less; my father flourished one.'
'It was indeed a great day for Israel!' 'Nay, that is nothing. When old
Alroy was prince, old David Alroy, for thirty years, good Caleb, thirty
long years we paid _no_ tribute to the Caliph.'

'No tribute! no tribute for thirty years! What marvel then, my Prince,
that the Philistines have of late exacted interest?'

'Nay, that is nothing,' continued old Bostenay, unmindful of his
servant's ejaculations. 'When Moctador was Caliph, he sent to the same
Prince David, to know why the dirhems were not brought up, and David
immediately called to horse, and, attended by all the chief people, rode
to the palace, and told the Caliph that tribute was an acknowledgment
made from the weak to the strong to insure protection and support; and,
inasmuch as he and his people had garrisoned the city for ten years
against the Seljuks, he held the Caliph in arrear.'

'We shall yet see an ass mount a ladder,'[1] exclaimed Caleb, with
uplifted eyes of wonder.

'It is true, though,' continued the Prince; 'often have I heard my
father tell the tale. He was then a child, and his mother held him up to
see the procession return, and all the people shouted "The sceptre has
not gone out of Jacob."'

'It was indeed a great day for Israel.'

'Nay, that is nothing. I could tell you such things! But we prattle; our
business is not yet done. You to the people; the widow and the orphan
are waiting. Give freely, good Caleb, give freely; the spoils of the
Canaanite are no longer ours, nevertheless the Lord is still our God,
and, after all, even this is a great day for Israel. And, Caleb, Caleb,
bid my nephew, David Alroy, know that I would speak with him.'

'I will do all promptly, good master! We wondered that our honoured
lord, your nephew, went not up with the donation this day.'

'Who bade you wonder? Begone, sir! How long are you to idle here? Away!

'They wonder he went not up with the tribute to-day. Ay! surely, a
common talk. This boy will be our ruin, a prudent hand to wield our
shattered sceptre. I have observed him from his infancy; he should have
lived in Babylon. The old Alroy blood flows in his veins, a stiff-necked
race. When I was a youth, his grandsire was my friend; I had some
fancies then myself. Dreams, dreams! we have fallen on evil days, and
yet we prosper. I