Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1897-09-01


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 I could
appreciate his love for the bizarre aud
antique-and who even became quite
chatty ut times, was. O venerable He
brew who boosted descent from David.
Contrary to the traditional character
istics OF his race, he was frank and
open-handed-I hal found him even
generous.
A fine old fellow he was, tall, maies-
tic, with a 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 jewelers. on one hand and a
secondhand book-dealer's on the
other, was narrow and low, but e1-
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 a 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. Inthe nextwas
agate from Japanese lapidaria, along
with wood fretwork from Geneva and
jet from Cornwall. Here hung paint
ing of Cimabue, here one of Guido,
there one of Benjamin West.
To examine such a curiosity shop
was my delight, and / often resorted
there. He had lately bought o stock
of Moorish jewelry, and asked me to
examine it. eagerly complied, and
rbiJa -1ooiy;np ~ oro, CIV, o,,r;o,,o
breastpin that immediatel. 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
tiny topaz, scintilating like an impris-
oned sunbeam. The other was IN
Eastern simitar, with broad, slightly
curving blade and au edge of some
white metal, possibly silver. At the
cross-piece of the handle there was
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 Iatin.
The Latin was "Gladii duo, COR
unum." The whole thing had rich
exotic look about it that stimulated
my curiosity. T asked my venerable
friend if I might buy it.
''No," he said slowly-"no, that is
not for sale; but if you like it I will
tell you It's history"
I replied that nothing would please
me better.
''That breastpin," said ne, ''is
trust confded to- me. Last year I wa,
in the Holy Land with my mother, in
Jerusalem. Once on ajourney to visit
my kinsman, Javan, OF Damascus,
came upon poor Turk half dead by
the wayside. He had been attacked
and beaten by robbers so that he was
dying, got off my beast, and went
to him and tried to lift him up. He
attempted to speak. Bending close,
caught the question in Arabic:
"'Art thou Jew?'
"'I am
"'I had some faint hope that thou
vert Christian, a European, per-
chance On Englishman.
L live in England, in London, 1
said.
'The dying man clasped his hands.
Allah is good,' he whispered. DO
thou lift my head up. I have trust.
I will confide it to thee Here his
breath came thick and could scarcely
hear the words. My father-made
me promise-to get this-to-James
called Thurs-by = Lon--it-nay,
by the beard of the Prophet, will tell
thee he cried, starting up it is
but the spark of life was almost out.
1t fickered, and he had only strength
to put his hand into his bosom and
partly drew it forth again when death
began to glaxe his eyes. allah Ak
bari! he murmured family, and the
spark went out.
''He had taken from his breast that
jewel; the parchment around it said:
James fhursby, Singleton Cross,
London, England and I must de-
liver it to James Thursby." The old
man PAUSED.
"My wiie's father was James Thurs
by!" I exclaimed, excitedly. "He
has been dead these ten years, and
Singleton Cross is our home"
'Then if thou art really his rela-
tive thou hast been blest of fortune.
Mine eyes would rejoice to behold thy
WIFE"
The next day I brought my wife with
me to see the venerable Hebrew.
Daughter" said he, after we had
presented indisputable proof of our
connection to James Thursby, and
given documentary evidence of my
wife's genealogy- for the old man,
friendly as he had been, was cautious
about giving up his trust, and in that