My father was dying of disappointment. I
must save him. By incredible exertions, working night and day, I
saved about thirty-five dollars in notes. These I exchanged for
gold, and one day, when my father was not looking, I cast them into
the crucible in which he was making one of his vain attempts at
transmutation. God, I am sure, will pardon the deception. I never
anticipated the misery it would lead to.
"I never beheld anything like the joy of my poor father, when,
after emptying his crucible, he found a deposit of pure gold at the
bottom. He wept, and danced, and sang, and built such castles in
the air, that my brain was dizzy to hear him. He gave me the ingot
to keep, and went to work at his alchemy with renewed vigor. The
same thing occurred. He always found the same quantity of gold in
his crucible. I alone knew the secret. He was happy, poor man,
for nearly two years, in the belief that he was amassing a fortune.
I all the while plied my needle for our daily bread. When he asked
me for the savings, the first stroke fell upon me. Then it was
that I recognized the folly of my conduct.
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