FAITH UNTO DEATH. 165 



as by magic ; the trees hewn, the house vanished, the memory of 

 CorneUtz still less than a dream !" He was about to bend his 

 steps to an abbey decorated with the works of the painter, when 

 at the corner of a street, a poor and very old woman, habited in 

 weeds, accosted him, saying, with a low reverence, " Art thou in 

 quest of Jacob Cornelitz, the painter ?" " Aye, good mother," 

 hastily replied the young man, " What of him ? where doth he 

 now abide ?" and he forced money into her palm. " Alas !" returned 

 the venerable dame, ** the staff of the poor hath departed I the 

 good man is no more ! he hath passed through the valley of the 

 shadow of death, and now sleepeth in Abraham's bosom ! blessed 

 be his name ! the destitute and the heart-broken may weep for 

 their loss !" and tears rolled down her withered cheeks as she 

 spoke. Faint with expectancy, Schooreel asked for his daughter j 

 the old woman broke into benediction, " May her leaf be 

 green ! may the dew of heaven descend upon her branch I 

 may she flourish as a fair tree, and may her blossoms ripen to 

 maturity ! yea, long may she gladden in the corn, and the wine 

 and the oil — in the gold, and the pearls, and the gems, and the fine 

 wool which the Lord hath given to her for her reward ! the 

 widowed and the desolate, the afflicted and the fatherless, hath she 

 tended and soothed, and lifted out of the mire of misfortune. 

 May her heart sing for joy !" " But where doth she reside V 

 tremblingly uttered Schooreel j the female was about to reply, 

 when a disorderly rabble of men and boys, with shouts of laughter, 

 and jeers and menaces, whirled round the corner, and swept the 

 artist irresistibly along in their course. Some hapless creature 

 was the point of pursuit and derision, but who or what the painter 

 could not perceive, for the victim was surrounded by a dense 

 knot of tormentors, who seemed thirsting to inflict some descrip- 

 tion of jiunishment upon the unfortunate : humanity, ever a strong 

 principle in the breast of Van Schooreel, induced him to interpose. 

 "It is the foul fiend himself," said a brawny blacksmith, in answer 

 to his interrogatory, " we are but going to duck him in cold water, 

 and see if he swim like a christian man." At this moment, the 

 miserable being alluded to, burst into passionate apostrophes, 

 Schooreel broke through the ring, and with indignation and pity 

 discovered Zairagia, the dwarf, struggling violently in the brute 

 grasp of two stalwart ruffians. By dint of main force he compelled 

 the men to loosen their clutch, and learning from a youth who 

 rushed up, bare-headed and breathless, that the dwarf had destroy- 

 ed a rare piece of mechanism, in the shop of a goldsmith, adjoining, 

 Schooreel proceeded at once to make the requisite amends, first 

 flinging some small coins among the rabble to cut short their 

 attendance. It appeared that Zairagia, wandering from the inn, in 

 the absence of his master, had stopped before the booth where, 

 among the various curiosities which excited his wonder, was the 

 figure of an Ethiop, carved out of jet, and having eyeballs of onyx 

 and crystal 5 lost in admiration, the dwarf continued to gaze at this 

 object, till, the spring set in movement, the head wagged, the eyes 



