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four inches square and as many deep, pointed at it significantly, and then made a movement with his thumb over his shoulder towards the door; which Meyer locked. "Now, old Aaron, my boy," said the man, "look here."—And opening the box, he displayed a brilliant, sparkling like a star, and at least as large as a nutmeg. "What is it?" demanded the Jew. "What is it?" echoed the other. "You'll see. Bear a hand and hold that candle to me,-it won't," he muttered, "be for the first time.” Meyer did as he was desired. To his astonishment, the stone was a genuine diamond! "No questions!" said the fellow. What will you stand for it?" The Jew looked in the face of his visitor. It was the bronzed aspect of a seaman, remarkable chiefly for a large pair of moustaches; which, with an outlandish cut about the dress, made him suppose he had to do with a smuggler-perhaps a pirate.-Yet there was something very peculiar in the man's eye. It was keen, piercing, and his own shrunk as he encountered it. This did not prevent him from offering twenty guineas for the gem. "Twenty guineas!" repeated the other, with a contemptuous laugh. "You know it's worth two thousand!"—"Very well," answered Meyer, suppose we ask that question of a policeman?"-"You're a scoundrel,” said the sailor deliberately, eyeing him for some moments, "a pretty scoundrel! But I am in your clutches, I see; another day you may be in mine. No matter. Come; don't be too hard; say forty.' 'Well, my dear," answered the Jew, I'm an honest man, and just in my dealings-I'll give you thirty-five."then, take it, if you must," said the fellow sulkily. Meyer at once paid him the money, and in a moment had the gem under lock and key. The sailor walked moodily off.

15

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"There

Meyer was almost delirious with his good-fortune; but the question was, how to dispose of his prize as soon as possible. There was good reason for his anxiety on this point, which he revolved long and earnestly in his mind; by turns taking the jewel from its hiding-place to gloat over it for a moment, and then hastily, on the least noise or stir, replacing it, and locking his chest.

In this state of fever he spent about two hours; when Leah came to say that Mr. Isaacs wished to speak with him. He told her to ask Mr. Isaacs in, who accordingly entered. Mr. Isaacs wore his usual brown gaberdine and long beard. He passed for an old-clothesman; but under that disguise carried on certain peculiar transactions, and had become, secretly, very rich. This Meyer knew.

Isaacs, first having ascertained that there was nobody

within hearing, said that he was come to make an important purchase. A friend of his had pressing occasion to invest a large sum in jewellery, being about to start instantly for America, and wishing to compress all his property into the smallest compass. He then asked Meyer what jewels he had to sell; and Meyer produced all he had—one only excepted. He dared not show that. Isaacs offered him a thousand pounds for the lot, which he agreed to take. Now," inquired Isaacs, "have you no more?"

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Meyer hesitated; when Isaacs assured him that he had as much money again, at least, to invest, if possible. Meyer, accordingly, with a trembling hand, drew forth, the diamond; and Isaacs, without hesitation, consented to give three thousand pounds for it. He then produced, in payment for the whole, Bank of England notes to the amount of four thousand pounds.

Meyer did not relish the idea of paper, and looked at the notes suspiciously. The other Jew observing this, told him he might well look, for that an extensive Bank robbery had been just effected; but he added significantly, the numbers of the notes had not been entered, and not one of them could be stopped. Meyer asked if Isaacs would indorse the notes, which the latter readily did; whereon Meyer received them, and handed over the jewels, diamond and all, to Mr. Isaacs. They then exchanged congratulations, and Isaacs went his way. Both laughed at parting; but there was something in the laugh of Isaacs very odd and extraordinary.

All that night Meyer got no sleep. He could not get the laugh of Isaacs out of his head. As, over-excited, he kept tossing to and fro on his pillow, he seemed to hear it audibly. Sometimes it appeared to sound outside the window, sometimes close to his pillow.

Pale and sallow with want of rest, the next morning he sallied forth for 'Change. Scarcely had he got into the street when who should be the first person he met but Mr. Isaacs with his clothesbag. Meyer asked him how he did since yesterday? "Since yesterday?" replied Isaacs. "What is the use," said Meyer, "of affecting a short memory?" Isaacs protested that he did not know what he meant ; and declared that he had passed the whole preceding day at home. Meyer thought him mad; but Isaacs assured him that his wife and daughter could prove that he spoke the truth: he would bet a shilling that it was so, besides. induced Meyer to accompany him home, when, to his consternation,

This

not only did the wife and daughter, but the servants also, and two neighbours, attest Isaacs's assertion.

A strange misgiving seized on Meyer's mind. Half bewildered and distracted, he rushed home, and flew wildly to his strong box. There were the notes, sure enough. What mystery was this? He took them to the window, and agitatedly threw open the halfclosed shutters, the better to examine them. It was a fine morning, and the sun streamed into the room. He looked and looked. Could they have been forged? But then the indorsement! He looked again—a shade seemed to gather on them. He rubbed his eyes, but the shade appeared deeper. His brow perspired and hand trembled violently. There was no doubt of it, the notes were changing colour! They became grey, dingy, dusky-brown, and as Meyer fell senseless, they dropped from his hand, black and shrivelled, to the floor.

have

Meyer never perfectly recovered the shock which he had received. His friends tried to persuade him that he had been the dupe of a swindler, who had personated the sailor and Mr. Isaacs ; and that the notes, which were probably forged, had been destroyed by chemical agency. We know, in fact, that paper may be so prepared, that it will retain its colour for any length of time till exposed to the sun; and the secret of its preparation may been known to a few before the discovery of the Daguerréotype. But the Jew, in reply to such arguments, would only shake his head and shudder. In plain terms, he believed himself to have been deceived by the devil! Perhaps he thought no one else could have taken him in. But whatever may be the explanation of this strange affair, we may deduce from it an apt moral"Do not by any dealings make money which will not bear the light."

A FEW WORDS ON EARLY SHOP-SHUTTING.

WE have heard much of late of the long labour and the scanty guerdon of milliner girls. If the agitation have the effect of lessening one hour of toil in their day, or adding one penny to their wages, we thank God we have heard so much, and we trust in God we may hear more. In the garrets and lonely chambers of this great town many a girl's bright eye is waning, many a girl's brave heart is breaking, over the task of sewing coarse slop shirts or weaving rich embroidery. But this misery is retiring; these dreary hours of toil are passed in hidden places, apart from public gaze. There is another species of slavery, practised almost in our public streets, under our very noses, which we cannot stir without beholding, and which yet seems to excite no notice, except, indeed, when the victims themselves make the effort.

We speak of the needlessly long hours to which labour in shops is protracted.

Cast a mental glance along the great outlines of London, its vast streets, devoted to traffic and to merchandise, sweeping from Blackwall to Kensington. Consider the endless array of shops which lines them; the really vast population required to attend to them. Remember that shopkeepers constitute the great bulk of the middle classes; that the assistants of one year are continually springing up to be the masters of the next; think of all this, and answer does it, not seem of importance to the social well-being of the country, that a class so numerous, so weighty, who must exercise so great a power in a constitutional country, should have something like spare time; should not be devoted, almost without a moment's relaxation, to one unbroken routine of buying and selling that they may eat and sleep, and of eating and sleeping that they may buy and sell? Would it not be well that there should be intervals of leisure time to think, to read, or even to write? But he must be a prodigy indeed, who could manage to perform any of the three operations if called upon to labour for fourteen hours out of the twenty-four; perhaps more.

And shopmen are also expected to have something of the gentleman, sometimes the fine gentleman, about them. What a valuable thing is a good fluent address at a West-end establishment!

They are expected to be able to talk as intelligent people. You look for more intelligence, more knowledge from them than from an operative or an ordinary mechanic. And yet you give them less time to acquire it.

The workshop of the artisan is never, we believe, except perhaps upon special occasions,-open longer than twelve hours a day, and from these the hours of dinner and breakfast have to be deducted. The merchant's, or the banker's clerk, seldom arrives at his desk before nine or ten in the morning, and is generally relieved from it early in the evening-some as soon as four-very few indeed later than seven.

But after workshops and counting-houses are closed and silent, shops continue in full operation, flaring with gas and crowded with buyers and sellers until late in the night. Go forth into the streets early in the morning, between seven and eight, and you see shops opening, shutters everywhere moving, windows everywhere being arranged to catch the eyes and admiration of passengers during the coming day. Come again when the night is advancing, they are still open-nearly all till nine, many till ten-and some in particular neighbourhoods, and devoted to particular traffics, until eleven, or, perhaps, midnight. A long day's toil this, and almost without intermission: a hasty half-hour or so twice a day for meals constitute the only breaks. And frequently, even when to outward appearance the shop is closed and the attendants gone, they are still at work with closed shutters within, making up the day's accounts, and arranging disordered goods for the business of

to-morrow.

Let it not either be supposed, that the toil thus imposed upon thousands of young men, and indeed upon no inconsiderable number of young women, though long continued, is right. It involves almost constant standing; no inconsiderable amount of walking and climbing up ladders and stairs; a continued and wearing bodily and mental effort to please customers; to talk them into purchases; to wile them by displaying goods to the best advantage. And when the weary task is done, too; when the jaded shopman is turned loose from his counter-perhaps not long before midnight with the knowledge that by six or seven o'clock next morning he must be at it again, what is he to do? Read, walk, write, improve himself in any way? You can hardly expect it. He will sleep to forget his toils, or, perhaps, if he can get it, drink grog to drown them.