quel to this
injunction.

"'Tis Nargal, the spirit who guards hidden treasures," said Dee: "we can
approach him only by prayers and fumigations."

"Then must we return?" said Bartholomew, apparently unwilling to desist.

"Hark!" said the Doctor, listening.

They heard a moan, as that of some one in great pain. Presently a faint
shriek stole through a pause in the blast.

"'Tis like the groan of a mandrake," he continued: "they do ever lament
and bewail thus when gathered. I doubt not but this tree is of that
accursed nature."

Again the voice was articulate.

"To-morrow thou mayest return at this hour; but I will not yield my
treasure save thou bring me gold!"

"Who art thou?"

"I am the guardian of the treasure; and

"Gold I have. Bring gold with thee;
Or thou shalt get no gold from me."

"What is thy demand?" inquired Dee, in a hollow voice, like that of an
exorcist.

"Prop thy purse with fifty nobles;--then dig, and I will tell thee."

The two worthies were somewhat startled at this demand. It was more than
their joint forces could muster. Yet two thousand and more broad pieces,
besides other valuables, which lay there for the gathering, was too
profitable a return to make them easily give up the adventure.
Accordingly, after some further questions which the demon as resolutely
refused to answer, they departed, first replacing the earth and other
matters they had disturbed, in their former position.

Early on the following morning the eager divine applied to his friend
Eccleston for another loan, assuring him it was the last; while from the
produce of the treasure he would be enabled to pay his former advances,
with a copious interest thereon. The needy expectant was loath to
furnish him with another supply, though in the end he was prevailed on
to borrow from his friends, at an exorbitant interest, for one day only.

This important preliminary being arranged, the night was anxiously
awaited, and though more than usually tardy in its approach, twilight at
length threw her mantle of grey over the world's cares and perplexities,
and night, that universal coverlet of all things, whether good or evil,
did wrap them gently about.

And a night of more loveliness and lustre never was unveiled to the eye
of mortals.

The stars were walking in brightness--so clear and sparkling that each
seemed a ray or an emblem of that ineffably glorious Beam whose
uncreated splendour no eye can see and live.