which, I may safely affirm, he had never seen before, for his raiment
betokened a poor and ragged life, than he stood, and gazed as much at
his ease as if it had been his own, and then, by Hercules! unbuttoning
his pack, for he was burdened with one both before and behind, he threw
his old limbs upon a couch, and began to survey the room! I could not
but ask him, If he were the elder Piso, old Cneius Piso, come back from
Persia, in Persian beard and gown?--'Old man,' said he, 'your brain is
turned with many books, and the narrow life you lead here, shut out from
the living world of man. One man is worth all the books ever writ, save
those of Moses. Go out into the streets and read him, and your senses
will come again. Cneius Piso! Take you me for a spirit? I am Isaac the
Jew, citizen of the world, and dealer in more rarities and valuables
than you ever saw or dreamed of. Shall I open my parcels for thee?' No,
said I, I would not take thy poor gewgaws for a gift. One worm-eaten
book is worth them all.--'God restore thy reason!' said he, 'and give
thee wisdom before thou diest; and that, by thy wrinkles and hairless
pate must be soon.' What more of false he would have added I know not,
for at that moment he sprang from where he sat like one suddenly mad,
exclaiming, 'Holy Abraham! what do my eyes behold, or do they lie?
Surely that is Moses! Never was he on Sinai, if his image be not here!
Happy Piso! and happy Isaac to be the instrument of such grace! Who
could have thought it? And yet many a time, in my dreams, have I beheld
him, with a beard like mine, his hat on his head, his staff in his hand,
as if standing at the table of the Passover, the princess with him,
and--dreams will do such things--a brood of little chickens at their
side. And now--save the last--it is all come to pass. And here, too, who
may this be? who, but Aaron, the younger and milder! He was the speaker,
and lo! his hand is stretched out! And this young Joseph is at his knee
the better to interpret his character to the beholder. Moses and Aaron
in the chief room of a Roman senator, and he, a Piso! Now, Isaac, thou
mayest tie on thy pack, and take thy leave with a merry heart, for God,
if never before, now accepteth thy works.' And much more, noble sir, in
the same raving way, which was more dark to my understanding than the
darkest pages of Aristotle.'

I gathered from Solon, that he would return in the evening in the hope
to see me, for he had that t