circumstance, but I was long subsequently informed of
it--one day a travelling Jew knocked at the door of a farmhouse in which
we had taken apartments. I was near at hand, sitting in the bright
sunshine, drawing strange lines on the dust with my fingers, an ape and
dog were my companions. The Jew looked at me and asked me some
questions, to which, though I was quite able to speak, I returned no
answer. On the door being opened, the Jew, after a few words, probably
relating to pedlary, demanded who the child was, sitting in the sun; the
maid replied that I was her mistress's youngest son, a child weak _here_,
pointing to her forehead. The Jew looked at me again, and then said:
"'Pon my conscience, my dear, I believe that you must be troubled there
yourself to tell me any such thing. It is not my habit to speak to
children, inasmuch as I hate them, because they often follow me and fling
stones after me; but I no sooner looked at that child than I was forced
to speak to it. His not answering me shows his sense, for it has never
been the custom of the wise to fling away their words in indifferent talk
and conversation. The child is a sweet child, and has all the look of
one of our people's children. Fool, indeed! did I not see his eyes
sparkle just now when the monkey seized the dog by the ear? they shone
like my own diamonds--does your good lady want any, real and fine? Were
it not for what you tell me, I should say it was a prophet's child. Fool,
indeed! he can write already, or I'll forfeit the box which I carry on my
back, and for which I should be loth to take two hundred pounds!" He
then leaned forward to inspect the lines which I had traced. All of a
sudden he started back, and grew white as a sheet; then, taking off his
hat, he made some strange gestures to me, cringing, chattering, and
showing his teeth, and shortly departed, muttering something about "holy
letters," and talking to himself in a strange tongue. The words of the
Jew were in due course of time reported to my mother, who treasured them
in her heart, and from that moment began to entertain brighter hopes of
her youngest-born than she had ever before ventured to foster.

CHAPTER II.

I have been a wanderer the greater part of my life; indeed I remember
only two periods, and these by no means lengthy, when I was, strictly
speaking, stationary. I was a soldier's son, and as the means of my
father were by no means sufficient to support t