ure-gallery, sir."

The tone in which he spoke was less pleading than commanding, and roused
the anger of the easily enraged parvenu.

"Sir, I have a picture-gallery, arranged for my own pleasure and paid
for with my own money. I am very willing to show it to all who have
not the money to purchase pictures for themselves, and to satisfy the
curiosity of strangers, I have set aside a day in each week on which to
exhibit my gallery."

"You mean, then, sir, that you will not allow us to enter your museum?"
said the king, smilingly, and laying his hand at the same time softly on
Balby's arm, to prevent him from speaking.

"I mean that my museum is closed, and--"

A carriage rolled thunderingly to the door; the outer doors of the
hall were hastily opened, a liveried servant entered, and stepping
immediately to Mr. Abramson, he said:

"Lord Middlestone, of Loudon, asks the honor of seeing your gallery."

The countenance of the Jewish banker beamed with delight.

"Will his excellency have the graciousness to enter? I consider it an
honor to show him my poor treasures. My gallery is closed to-day, but
for Lord Middlestone, I will open it gladly."

His contemptuous glance met the two poor musicians, who had stepped
aside, and were silent witnesses of this scene.

The outer doors of the court were opened noisily, and a small,
shrivelled human form, assisted by two servants, staggered into the
hall. It was an old man, wrapped in furs; this was his excellency
Lord Middlestone. Mr. Abramson met him with a profound bow, and sprang
forward to the door that led to the gallery.

Every eye was fixed upon this sad picture of earthly pomp and greatness;
all felt the honor to the house of Mr. Abramson. Lord Middlestone, the
ambassador of the King of England, desired to see his collection. This
was an acknowledgment of merit that delighted the heart of the banker,
and added a new splendor to his house.

While the door was being opened to admit his lordship, Balby and the
king left the house unnoticed.

The king was angry, and walked silently along for a time; suddenly
remaining standing, he gazed steadily at Balby, and broke out into a
loud, merry laugh, that startled the passers-by, and made them look
wonderingly after him.

"Balby, my friend," he said, still laughing, "I will tell you something
amusing. Never in my life did I feel so humble and ashamed as when his
excellency entered the gallery so triumphantly, and we slip