"It happened," says Agapida, "that this Catholic cavalier, at one time, was destitute of gold and silver wherewith to pay the wages of his troops; and the soldiers murmured greatly, seeing that they had not the means of purchasing necessities from the people of the town. In this dilemma, what does this most sagacious commander? He takes me a number of little morsels of paper, on the which he inscribes various sums, large and small, according to the nature of the case, and signs me them with his own hand and name. These did he give to the soldiery, in earnest of their pay. 'How!' you will say, 'are soldiers to be paid with scraps of paper?' 'Even so,' I answer, 'and well paid, too, as I will presently make manifest; for the good count issued a proclamation ordering the inhabitants of Alhama to take these morsels of paper for the full amount thereon inscribed, promising to redeem them at a future time with silver and gold, and threatening severe punishment to all who should refuse. The people, having full confidence in his word, and trusting that he would be as willing to perform the one promise as he certainly was able to perform the other, took these curious morsels of paper without hesitation or demur. Thus, by a subtile and most miraculous kind of alchemy, did this Catholic cavalier turn worthless paper into precious gold, and make his late impoverished garrison abound in money!' "It is but just to add," continues the historian, "that the Count de Tendilla redeemed his promises, like a loyal knight; and this miracle, as it appeared in the eyes of Agapida, is the first instance on record of paper money." [23] It may be also remarked that the island antiquarians did not find any chronicle of any other soldier who imitated Count de Tendilla in issuing "little morsels of paper" to serve as money, and subsequently did not imitate him in promptly redeeming his promises, who found it easy to obtain again the confidence of the soldiers or the people when he again got into similar difficulties. [24] CHAPTER XI. THE NEW MILLENNIUM. At last there arose a sect of philosophers (calling themselves Friends of Humanity) who felt confident of settling all difficulties, and who also aspired to the government of the island. Their chief had the reputation of being an ogre. He had served in the war against the cannibals, looked exceedingly fierce, and therefore was accounted brave; he talked loud and with great assurance, and therefore he was accounted wise; he had acquired great riches without ever doing any thing useful, and therefore he was accounted skilled in business.