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 says the legend, no man has ever set eyes upon the glittering Moorish gold.

So much for legend; now for more authentic narrative.

An old gentleman sat in a boat on one of the loveliest of the English lakes, and looked up at the mountains with delight.

'Glorious!' he exclaimed; 'superb! it beats Switzerland out and out.'

Whether he was right is nothing to the purpose, but he said it. He was stout, had a red face, blue spectacles, and a straw hat tied to his button-hole with black ribbon.

Now, when he exclaimed, 'It beats Switzerland out and out!' his footman sitting opposite to him, and thinking the observation called for an answer, replied, with prompt respect, 'Certainly, sir, no doubt.'

Thereupon his master looked at his fat white face, which expressed no manner of enthusiasm, but rather showed an absorbing interest in the provision basket which he held on his knee.

'Pray, Richard,' said the old gentleman, 'do you take any pleasure in the beauties of Nature?' Richard pondered, and answered as before, respectfully, 'Not in particular, sir.'

'It's for want of knowing more about them,' said his master, good-humoredly; 'to-morrow I am going up a mountain to see such a view as everybody must delight in—you shall go too.'

Richard touched his hat.

The next morning the old gentleman, with two others, quite as enthusiastic, but by no means so fat, Rh