In the air without I recovered myself. I seemed open to all blissful influences—I was again happy and light-hearted. With what an exquisite display of colors did the sun mirror itself in the Bosphorus! how the domes of the mosques sparkled, as if composed of diamonds and rubies! How brilliant were the streets through which I walked—no, through which I floated. And at this moment I felt myself richer than the richest houses of which I had ever heard. Thus I arrived at a shady forest of dates. Here I sat me down in the overhanging shade of a palm, and gazed toward the west where the sun was setting, and where was the Barbarossa town, with its leaning tower and my charming Kate. CHAPTER II. I carried always with me a costly Turkish pipe, with a long stem of rose-wood. The head I carried in my pocket, carefully wrapped in soft silk; the stem was so contrived that I used it for a cane. Without knowing what I did, whilst my gaze was riveted upon the glorious landscape, and my thoughts were busy with my home, I pushed my cane in among the dry leaves and roots of the palm. Suddenly it was caught by something which attracted my notice, and I tried to draw it out quickly. The costly stem broke, and I looked, half-vexed and half-curious, to know what had caused the mischief. With difficulty I extricated from the roots of the palm an old leathern purse, the strings of which were tied round another old leathern article. A wondrously joyful sensation stirred in my soul at the sight of these objects. What they were I knew not, and yet they filled me with delight. But when I had cleansed them from the dirt and mud, when I held an old, richly-embroidered purse in my hand, and in the other article recognized a little, pointed cap, then arose from the glowing memories of my childhood the wonderful story of the inexhaustible purse of Fortunatus and his wishing cap. Then all creation beamed around me, and a chorus of voices from the sky seemed to say to me, “Thou art the new Fortunatus. Fortune has favored thee with her most valuable gifts, which have remained so long in the lap of earth, hidden from all mortal eyes.” I laughed aloud like a child. I was firmly convinced that it was all true, and I danced round the palm, with the purse and cap in my hands, like a madman. “What are lotteries, stocks, and Rothschild’s speculations in comparison,” cried I; “do I wish for a million—I have to use my purse for a day, and my cap serves me better than the swiftest courier.” My reason at last returned, and the madman became again the prudent, calculating merchant.