"The telescope," he replied, with a smile, which had no mockery, but much sadness in it—"the magic glass they have never even attempted to imitate; and, therefore, as none can ever look through it but its possessor, they say it is a lie and a cheat. And our persisting in declaring what it really is, is the source of many of our sufferings. For this, we are thrown into madhouses and prisons, and led to the scaffold and the stake." After a brief pause, he resumed— "The wise men and statesmen of the usurper's party now, however, for the most part, take an entirely different method. They discourage all these counterfeits, which they say are paying a most undeserved compliment to us. They say our jewels are mere sham and tinsel; that the light they shed exists only in the fancy of the spectators; that the living water is nothing but a mirage; and that the visions we see through the telescope are simply a lie. They affect to despise us too much to punish us; and if they persecute us at all, it is simply by contemptuously shutting us up in asylums as enthusiasts—harmless, unless we mislead others. "It is only a few of the most inveterate, such as myself; who may succeed in bringing over too many to the side of our King, that they occasionally make examples of, to sober the rest. But it is all entirely useless," he added, very joyfully; "the King's followers increase, his cause is gaining ground, and," he added, with a subdued voice, "the King himself is coming." "Is it really true," I asked, after a time, "that nothing, or no man, can rob you of this treasure?" "Our treasure no man taketh from us," he replied. "This he gave us, this he left with us: not as the world giveth, gave he unto us." "But can nothing you yourselves do, or omit to do, spoil or dim your jewel?" I resumed. His brow saddened. "Alas! There and there only have our enemies any real strength against us," he replied. "Sorrows only add to its lustre; in the loss of everything else it only shines the brighter; hunger and thirst but prove the unfailing nature of the fountain in the crystal vase; destitution and darkness, dungeons and tortures, only make the bright visions of our telescope more glorious; but we, we ourselves may indeed dim its lustre, or, if we will, yield it up altogether." "All this is natural and comprehensible," I said. "The dungeon must make the jewel brighter; the drought, the unfailing spring more precious; the narrowing of all prospects here, enhance the visions of that magic glass; the cruelties of the usurper, endear the sight of the Prince you serve." "This the wisest of our enemies have found out," the old man replied. "They find that nothing they can do harms us, but only what they can make us do ourselves; and to this they direct their efforts." "In what way?" I inquired.