"Come, old Dutchman," cried one of the young men, "let us seeyour pictures, if you can swear they are worth looking at!""O, yes, Captain," answered the Jew- whether as a matter ofcourtesy or craft, he styled everybody Captain- "I shall show you,indeed, some very superb pictures!"So, placing his box in a proper position, he invited the youngmen and girls to look through the glass orifices of the machine, andproceeded to exhibit a series of the most outrageous scratchings anddaubings, as specimens of the fine arts, that ever an itinerantshowman had the face to impose upon his circle of spectators. Thepictures were worn out, moreover, tattered, full of cracks andwrinkles, dingy with tobacco-smoke, and otherwise in a most pitiablecondition. Some purported to be cities, public edifices, and ruinedcastles in Europe; others represented Napoleon's battles andNelson's sea-fights; and in the midst of these would be seen agigantic, brown, hairy hand- which might have been mistaken for theHand of Destiny, though, in truth, it was only the showman's- pointingits forefinger to various scenes of the conflict, while its owner gavehistorical illustrations. When, with much merriment at itsabominable deficiency of merit, the exhibition was concluded, theGerman bade little Joe put his head into the box. Viewed through themagnifying glasses, the boy's round, rosy visage assumed the strangestimaginable aspect of an immense Titanic child, the mouth grinningbroadly, and the eyes and every other feature overflowing with funat the joke. Suddenly, however, that merry face turned pale, and itsexpression changed to horror, for this easily impressed andexcitable child had become sensible that the eye of Ethan Brand wasfixed upon him through the glass.
"You make the little man to be afraid, Captain," said the GermanJew, turning up the dark and strong outline of his visage, from hisstooping posture. "But look again, and, by chance, I shall cause youto see somewhat that is very fine, upon my word!"Ethan Brand gazed into the box for an instant, and then startingback, looked fixedly at the German. What had he seen? Nothing,apparently; for a curious youth, who had peeped in almost at thesame moment, beheld only a vacant space of canvas.
"I remember you now," muttered Ethan Brand to the showman.
"Ah, Captain," whispered the Jew of Nuremberg, with a dark smile,"I find it to be a heavy matter in my show-box- this Unpardonable Sin!
By my faith, Captain, it has wearied my shoulders, this long day, tocarry it over the mountain.""Peace," answered Ethan Brand, sternly, "or get thee into thefurnace yonder!"The Jew's exhibition had scarcely concluded, when a great,elderly dog- who seemed to be his own master, as no person in thecompany laid claim to him- saw fit to render himself the object ofpublic notice. Hitherto, he had shown himself a very quiet, welldisposed old dog, going round from one to another, and, by way ofbeing sociable, offering his rough head to be patted by any kindlyhand that would take so much trouble. But now, all of a sudden, thisgrave and venerable quadruped, of his own mere motion, and without theslightest suggestion from anybody else, began to run round after histail, which, to heighten the absurdity of the proceeding, was agreat deal shorter than it should have been. Never was seen suchheadlong eagerness in pursuit of an object that could not possiblybe attained; never was heard such a tremendous outbreak of growling,snarling, barking, and snapping- as if one end of the ridiculousbrute's body were at deadly and most unforgivable enmity with theother. Faster and faster, round about went the cur; and faster andstill faster fled the unapproachable brevity of his tail; and louderand fiercer grew his yells of rage and animosity; until, utterlyexhausted, and as far from the goal as ever, the foolish old dogceased his performance as suddenly as he had begun it. The next momenthe was as mild, quiet, sensible, and respectable in his deportment, aswhen he first scraped acquaintance with the company.
As may be supposed, the exhibition was greeted with universallaughter, clapping of hands, and shouts of encore, to which the canineperformer responded by wagging all that there was to wag of histail, but appeared totally unable to repeat his very successful effortto amuse the spectators.
Meanwhile, Ethan Brand had resumed his seat upon the log, andmoved, it might be, by a perception of some remote analogy between hisown case and that of this self-pursuing cur, he broke into the awfullaugh, which, more than any other token, expressed the condition ofhis inward being. From that moment, the merriment of the party wasat an end; they stood aghast, dreading lest the inauspicious soundshould be reverberated around the horizon, and that mountain wouldthunder it to mountain, and so the horror be prolonged upon theirears. Then, whispering one to another that it was late- that themoon was almost down- that the August night was growing chill- theyhurried homewards leaving the lime-burner and little Joe to deal asthey might with their unwelcome guest. Save for these three humanbeings, the open space on the hill-side was a solitude, set in avast gloom of forest. Beyond that darksome verge, the fire-lightglimmered on the stately trunks and almost black foliage of pines,intermixed with the lighter verdure of sapling oaks, maples, andpoplars, while here and there lay the gigantic corpses of deadtrees, decaying on the leaf-strewn soil. And it seemed to littleJoe- a timorous and imaginative child- that the silent forest washolding its breath, until some fearful thing should happen.
Ethan Brand thrust more wood into the fire, and closed the doorof the kiln; then looking over his shoulder at the lime-burner and hisson, he bade, rather than advised, them to retire to rest.
