The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1897-08-12

%N eral holidays on hand
and knew of no more delightful way
of spending an idle hour than in look
ing over old Azral's collection of vertu,
which had great fascination for me.
The old man, who had taken quite a
fancy to me--probably because could
appreciate his love for the bizarre and
antique-and who even became quite
chatty at times, was q venerable He
brew who boosted descent from David.
Contrary to the traditional character
istics of his race, he was frank and
open -handed-I had found him even
generous.
A fine old fellow he was, tall, majes.
tic, with long white beard sweeping
his breast; stately and slow in speech,
polite, but not cringing, with that
self-respecting courtesy which Dickens
gives us in Riah, the "Godmother. ]
cannot say why, but he was my mind
picture of Aaron-he had sort OF
silent eloquence about him. Without
kith or kin, he lived in the love of his
relics, his children he called them.
And rare and exquisite, but decided
ly diversified, family he had
The shop, which was wedged in be-
tween n jewelers. on one hand and q
secondhand book dealers on the
other, was narrow and low, but ex-
tended back some distance. On
shelves in the walls, on tables, in
drawers were spread the objects of his
passion in the most enchanting disre-
gard for the conventional modes of ar
rangement. Here shelf of old
Dutch faience showed stout burgomas-
ters in. blue and yellow. Next was a
shelf from which cleaned arms and
cutlery, swords, real Damascus blades,
of so magnificent temper as to admit
of being bent in circle. Here was a
bureau drawer full of exquisite ivory
carvings, crucifixes and amulets of rich
and varied workmanship side by side
with diminutive Persian narghiles and
squat Chinese josses. In the next was
agate from Japanese lapidaria, along
with wood fretwork from Geneva and
jet from Cornwall. Here hung a paint
ing of Cimabue, here one of Guido,
there one of Ben jamin West.
To examine such curiosity shop
was my delight, and / often resorted
there. He had lately bought stock
of Moorish jewelry, and asked me to
examine it. I eagerly complied, and
while looking it over saw n curious
breastpin that Immediately attracted
my attention. A delicate little golden
heart held together two swords crossed.
The swords were each about three
inches long, one Scotch claymore of
pure green gold, the baskethilt of the
most beautiful lace-like arabesque
tracery of gold interviewer with silver.
At the end of the handle sparkled q
tiny topaz, scintilating like an impris.
oned sunbeam. The other was an
Eastern simitar, with broad, slightly
curving blade and an edge of some
white metal, possibly silver. At the
ross-piece of the handle there was q
ruby, and at each end of the cross.
piece diamond of the purest water.
The heart bore two inscriptions, one
in Arabic and one in Latin.
The Latin was "Gladii duo, col
unum." The whole thing had rich
exotic look about it that stimulated
my curiosity. L asked my venerable
friend if might buy it.
no." he said slowly-''no, that is
not for sale; but if you like it 1 vii
tell you its history"
replied that nothing would please
me better.
''That breastpin," said he, sis &,
trust confded to me. Last year I wa,
in the Holy Land with my mother, il
Jerusalem. Once on a journey to visi
my kinsman, Javan, at Damascus,
came upon a poor Turk half dead b,
the wayside. He had been attacked
and beaten by robbers so that he wa,
dying, l got off my beast, and wen
to him and tried to lift him up. II,
attempted to speak. Bending close,
caught the question in Arabic:
cart thou u Jew?'
81 am
"T had some faint hope that tho,
vert a Christian, European, per
chance an Englishman.'
"I live in England, in London
said.
'The dying man clasped his hands
Allah is good he whispered. ID,
thou lift my head up. I have trust
1 will confide it to thee Here hi
breath came thick and could scarcel,
hear the words. MY father-mad
me promise-to get this--to-Jame
called Thurs-by-- Lon--it-nay
by the beard of the Prophet, I will tel
thee, he cried, starting up it is
but the spark of life was almost out
It fiickered, and he had only strength
| A. L. 81