feeds me without giving me to drink,” said he, “receives at my hand little thanks;” and he began to abuse yet more the defective qualities of the miraculous napkin. Amarin, who did not like his property to be run down, was offended at these remarks, seized the towel by the four corners, to remove it together with the dish; but, as soon as he began to fold it, dish and ham-bone had disappeared. “Brother,” said he, to the rebellious critic, “if in future you will be my guest, then take willingly what my table offers, but for thy thirsty spleen seek a bubbling stream; as regards drink, that is another matter; where there is a bake-house, says the proverb, there is no room for a brewhouse.”—“Well-spoken,” answered the sly fellow, Sarron; but let us see to this other matter. He again took from him the table-napkin, and spread it to the left on the meadow, with the wish that the administering spirits should cause to appear some wine-flasks filled, in the absence of sack, with the best Malmsey. In a twinkling there stood a vase, apparently belonging to the same service, formed like a pitcher, and filled with the most beautiful Malmsey wine.
Now, in the enjoyment of the sweet nectar, the three joyous fellows would not have exchanged their condition for King Charles’s throne; the wine immediately drove away all their past cares, and sparkled and foamed in the jack-cap which they used instead of a goblet. Even Andiol the spear-bearer now granted the power of the table-napkin, and, if its possessor had been willing to part with it, he would gladly have exchanged for it the rusty penny, with all its unknown properties. This became to him, however, much more valuable, and he kept feeling after it every minute to find whether it was still in its place. He drew it forth to look at the impression, but every trace of this had disappeared; then he turned it to look at the obverse; this was the right method to discover its powers. When he perceived here neither image nor inscription, and was going to put it by, he found under the wonderful penny a gold piece of equal size and thickness with it; he resumed the attempt several times, without being observed, to be sure of it, and found the result still the same. With the demonstrations of joy of the Syracusan philosopher, who, when he had discovered in the bath the water-gage of gold, trumpeted his “I have found it” through the streets, Andiol the sword-bearer arose from his turfy seat, jumped round the tree, leaping like a goat, and screamed with open mouth, “I have it, comrades, I have it!” upon which he concealed from them nothing of his alchemist’s progress. In the first burst of his joyful enthusiasm, he proposed instantly to seek out again the beneficent Druidess, and, throwing themselves at her feet, to thank her for her gifts. A similar impulse inspired them all; they suddenly collected all their possessions, and pursued the way by which they came. But either their eyes were blinded, or the vapours of the wine led
