istory of his book, which, if the genuine book he thought it to be, from
the description he had heard of it, was in the handwriting of Abraham
himself, and had been in the possession of personages no less
distinguished than Moses, Joshua, Solomon, and Esdras. It contained all
the secrets of alchymy and of many other sciences, and was the most
valuable book that had ever existed in this world. The doctor was himself
no mean adept, and Nicholas profited greatly by his discourse, as in the
garb of poor pilgrims they wended their way to Paris, convinced of their
power to turn every old shovel in that capital into pure gold. But,
unfortunately, when they reached Orleans, the doctor was taken dangerously
ill. Nicholas watched by his bedside, and acted the double part of a
physician and nurse to him; but he died after a few days, lamenting with
his last breath that he had not lived long enough to see the precious
volume. Nicholas rendered the last honours to his body; and with a
sorrowful heart, and not one _sou_ in his pocket, proceeded home to his
wife Petronella. He immediately recommenced the study of his pictures; but
for two whole years he was as far from understanding them as ever. At
last, in the third year, a glimmer of light stole over his understanding.
He recalled some expression of his friend the doctor, which had hitherto
escaped his memory, and he found that all his previous experiments had
been conducted on a wrong basis. He recommenced them now with renewed
energy, and at the end of the year had the satisfaction to see all his
toils rewarded. On the 13th January 1382, says Lenglet, he made a
projection on mercury, and had some very excellent silver. On the 25th
April following, he converted a large quantity of mercury into gold, and
the great secret was his.

Nicholas was now about eighty years of age, and still a hale and stout old
man. His friends say that by a simultaneous discovery of the elixir of
life, he found means to keep death at a distance for another quarter of a
century; and that he died in 1415, at the age of 116. In this interval he
made immense quantities of gold, though to all outward appearance he was
as poor as a mouse. At an early period of his changed fortune, he had,
like a worthy man, taken counsel with his old wife Petronella, as to the
best use he could make of his wealth. Petronella replied, that as
unfortunately they had no children, the best thing he could do, was to
build hospitals