poor microscopist finds himself continually stumbling! I felt convinced
that the simple microscope, composed of a single lens of such vast yet
perfect power, was possible of construction. To attempt to bring the
compound microscope up to such a pitch would have been commencing at the
wrong end; this latter being simply a partially successful endeavor
to remedy those very defects of the simplest instrument which, if
conquered, would leave nothing to be desired.

It was in this mood of mind that I became a constructive microscopist.
After another year passed in this new pursuit, experimenting on every
imaginable substance--glass, gems, flints, crystals, artificial crystals
formed of the alloy of various vitreous materials--in short, having
constructed as many varieties of lenses as Argus had eyes--I found
myself precisely where I started, with nothing gained save an extensive
knowledge of glass-making. I was almost dead with despair. My parents
were surprised at my apparent want of progress in my medical studies
(I had not attended one lecture since my arrival in the city), and the
expenses of my mad pursuit had been so great as to embarrass me very
seriously.

I was in this frame of mind one day, experimenting in my laboratory on
a small diamond--that stone, from its great refracting power, having
always occupied my attention more than any other--when a young
Frenchman who lived on the floor above me, and who was in the habit of
occasionally visiting me, entered the room.

I think that Jules Simon was a Jew. He had many traits of the Hebrew
character: a love of jewelry, of dress, and of good living. There was
something mysterious about him. He always had something to sell, and yet
went into excellent society. When I say sell, I should perhaps have said
peddle; for his operations were generally confined to the disposal of
single articles--a picture, for instance, or a rare carving in ivory, or
a pair of duelling-pistols, or the dress of a Mexican _caballero_. When
I was first furnishing my rooms, he paid me a visit, which ended in my
purchasing an antique silver lamp, which he assured me was a Cellini--it
was handsome enough even for that--and some other knick-knacks for my
sitting-room. Why Simon should pursue this petty trade I never could
imagine. He apparently had plenty of money, and had the _entree_ of the
best houses in the city--taking care, however, I suppose, to drive no
bargains within the enchanted circle of