Smiling blandly at his interrogator, this gentleman of precious metal
placed his head a little on one side, and tapped the lid of his
snuff-box, but said nothing. Then he suddenly exclaimed, at the full
pitch of his voice, "California, my boy! That's what's done it, Edward!
_California for ever_! Ned, hurrah!"

As the deep tones of his voice rang through the star-spangled vault, the
company took up the shout, and with "California for ever!" made the
cavern ring again. In the excess of their glee the gentlemen took off
their hats, and the ladies their wreaths and turbans, and threw them in
the air. As many of them failed to catch these portions of costume in
their descent, the clatter caused by their fall on the golden pavement
was very striking indeed.

"Come here, my lad," said the old gentleman, seizing Ned Sinton by the
arm, and laughing heartily as he dragged him towards an immense mirror
of burnished gold; "look at yourself there."

Ned looked, and started back with horror on observing that he himself
had been converted into gold. There could be no mistake whatever about
it. There he stood, staring at himself like a yellow statue. His
shooting-jacket was richly chased with alternate stripes of burnished
and frosted work; the buttons on his vest shone like stars; his
pantaloons were striped like the coat; his hair was a mass of
dishevelled filigree; and his hands, when, in the height of his horror,
he clasped them together, rang like a brass-founder's anvil.

For a few moments he stood before the mirror speechless. Then a feeling
of intense indignation unaccountably took possession of him, and he
turned fiercely on the old gentleman, exclaiming--

"_You_ have done this, sir! What do you mean by it? eh!"

"You're quite mistaken, Ned. I didn't do it. California has done it.
Ha! ha! my boy, you're done for! Smitten with the yellow fever, Neddy?
California for ever! See here--"

As he spoke, the old gentleman threw out one leg and both arms, and
began to twirl round, after the fashion of a peg-top, on one toe. At
first he revolved slowly, but gradually increased his speed, until no
part of him could be distinctly observed. Ned Sinton stood aghast.
Suddenly the old gentleman shot upwards like a rocket, but he did not
quit the ground; he merely elongated his body until his head stuck
against the roof of the cave. Then he ceased to revolve, and remained
in the form of a golden stalactite--his head