"But," I asked, "if such a possession indeed is yours, the wonder now seems to me to be, how the King's enemies can have a follower left. Have your opponents any similar reward to offer?" "Similar things," he replied, "they at one time often tried to make, but the same they could never have; and even to imitate the outside beauty of it, they found so difficult, that the soberest men of the party have, for the most part, given it up in despair, and say it is all a cheat." "But why, at least, does not each one try for himself," I asked, "and see if it is true or not?" "There are many reasons," he replied, sorrowfully, "which keep the land from returning nationally to its allegiance. The usurper is still in power, and gives away the offices of state as he pleases; bonds and imprisonments often await us, as you see is the case with me; and many prefer the possession of lands and houses, or even less, to the reversion of a city, and the service of a prince they have never seen." "I understand," I replied. "Besides," he added, "there are strict rules binding our order. The people of the usurper do each what is right in his own eyes; but we are subject to our Prince's laws, which, though most blessed to those who keep them, seem to those who are outside, and live lawlessly, severe and strict. We are subject to our Prince, and to one another for his sake; and only those who have proved the joy of that subjection and service know how much happier it is than the tyranny of their lawlessness and self-will." "What are those counterfeit jewels you alluded to?" I asked. "They are of various construction," he replied; "some try to imitate one quality of our jewel, and some another. Some of the court jewellers of the usurper make a paste or tinsel jewel, which, when the sun shines, has a lustre a little like that of ours. The young courtiers often wear this; but when the sun is clouded or sets, it ceases to shine, so that even its outward resemblance is very imperfect, and it does not even pretend to imitate the secret of the fountain or the magic glass. And, moreover, it can be stolen or broken: often, even in the courtly revels, it is broken; often it is stolen or dropped, and, even if it is retained, in a few years the lustre fades away and can never be restored. "Then," he continued, "some made a bold effort to imitate our jewel in its form of the crystal vase, but the crystal itself is dim. And for the living fountain, they have never been able to substitute anything but a fiery liquid, needing constantly to be replenished, and, in reality, only increasing the thirst it professes to still, until it becomes a burning, consuming inward fever. But as they have never tasted of our water, the wretched deluded ones persist in saying theirs is the true." "And the telescope?" I inquired—"The magic glass?"