On my twelfth birthday it chanced that I was in my father’s shop, alone. My mother had gone into the back room, and my father was absent, for the day, at the residence of a distant client. I had been trying all that morning to find some occupation to amuse me, but without success; I had finally given myself up to a restless and discontented idleness; and at the moment I was examining in my hand, without much interest, a long chain, of extremely fine gold and delicate workmanship, which I had picked up from one of the cabinets in the shop. I was in the act of placing it back in its case, wondering what I should do next, when a strange figure entered the door from the street, and approached me. _A Tattered Old Beggar Comes to the Goldsmith’s Shop_ It was an old man, evidently a beggar, a huge man, fat and heavy, his face covered by a gray beard which hung to his waist, and his eyes, which were very bright, almost hidden by shaggy eyebrows,--the longest eyebrows I had ever seen on any human being. A ragged tunic of brown, belted around the middle, hung scantily to his knees; a battered felt hat flapped over his forehead; and in his hand he carried, for a staff, what seemed to be a yardstick, such as tailors use. From his belt hung a pair of large shears, also of the sort used by tailors. A queer tailor! thought I. “Good morning, master Melancholy,” said he, “have you a mind for trade this morning?” The idea of this poor creature’s pretending to be a customer at such a shop as ours was too absurd. I could not restrain a little toss of the head. [Illustration: “There is something here,” said the old beggar, “which I wish to buy”] “So?” said the old man. “Is that what you think? Nevertheless, there is something here which I wish to buy.” He looked around the shop. “I wish to buy a chain, a gold one; and I see none that pleases me so much as the one you are holding behind your back. Will you sell it?” I was astonished that he should have discovered the chain, which I could have sworn was hidden from his eyes. I drew it forth and held it up. “Be so good as to let me see it,” said the old man; and at the same time he took it from me, before I could snatch it away. “What may the price be, my young merchant?” said he. I was trembling with anxiety, but I thought it best to end the whole matter by naming the price, which I found on the card which remained in the cabinet. While I hesitated, the horrid creature gazed at me with his glittering eyes through his tangled eyebrows, and ran his fingers down his beard like a comb. “The price,” I said, “is four thousand gold florins. Now please give me back the chain.” “The price is high,” said the old man, “but I will take it.” “Then give me the money,” said I. “Money?” said he, with an air of great surprise. “Money? But I have no money.” “Then how are you going to buy the chain?” said I. “Give it back to me.” “I will buy it, nevertheless,” said he. “I will give you what is better than money.”