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Page 4
Let us hasten to introduce our talisman. You may see it at this very
moment, encircling the third finger of Doctor Glyphic's left hand; in
fact, it is neither more nor less than a quaint diamond ring. The
stone, though not surprisingly large, is surpassingly pure and
brilliant; as its keen, delicate ray sparkles on the eye, one marvels
whence, in the dead of night, it got together so much celestial fire.
Observe the setting; the design is unique. Two fairy serpents--one
golden, the other fashioned from black meteoric iron--are intertwined
along their entire length, forming the hoop of the ring. Their heads
approach the diamond from opposite sides, and each makes a mighty bite
at it with his tiny jaws, studded with sharp little teeth. Thus their
contest holds the stone firmly in place. The whole forms a pretty
symbol of the human soul, battled for by the good and the evil
principles. But the diamond seems, in its entirety, to be an awkward
mouthful for either. The snakes are wrought with marvellous dexterity
and finish; each separate scale is distinguishable upon their
glistening bodies, the wrinkling of the skin in the coils, the
sparkling points of eyes, and the minute nostrils. Such works of art
are not made nowadays; the ring is an antique,--a relic of an age when
skill was out of all proportion to liberty,--a very distant time
indeed. To deserve such a setting, the stone must have exceptional
qualities. Let us take a closer look at it.
Fortunately, its own lustre makes it visible in every part; the
minuteness of our scrutiny need be limited only by our power of eye.
It is cut with many facets,--twenty-seven, if you choose to count
them; perhaps (though we little credit such fantasies) some mystic
significance may be intended in this number. Concentrating now our
attention upon any single facet, we see--either inscribed upon its
surface, or showing through from the interior of the stone--a sort of
monogram, or intricately designed character, not unlike the mysterious
Chinese letters on tea-chests. Every facet has a similar figure,
though no two are identical. But the central, the twenty-seventh
facet, which is larger than the others, has an important peculiarity.
Looking upon it, we find therein, concentrated and commingled, the
other twenty-six characters; which, separately unintelligible, form,
when thus united, a simple and consistent narrative, equivalent in
extent to many hundred printed pages, and having for subject nothing
less than the complete history of the ring itself.
Some small portion of this narrative--that, namely, which relates more
particularly to the present wearer of the ring--we will glance at; the
rest must be silence, although, going back as it does to the earliest
records of the human race, many an interesting page must be skipped
perforce.
The advantages to a historian of a medium such as this are too patent
to need pointing out. Pretension and conjecture will be avoided,
because unnecessary. The most trifling thought or deed of any person
connected with the history of the ring is laid open to direct
inspection. Were there more such talismans as this, the profession of
authorship would become no less easy than delightful, and criticism
would sting itself to death, in despair of better prey. So far as is
known, however, the enchanted ring is unique of its kind, and, such as
it is, is not likely to become common property.
II.
OUT OF EGYPT.
But the small hours of the morning are slipping away; we must construe
our hieroglyphics without further palaver. The sleeper lies upon his
side, his left hand resting near his face upon the pillow. Were he to
move it ever so little during our examination, the history of years
might be thrown into confusion. Nevertheless, we shall hope to touch
upon all the more important points, and in some cases to go into
details.
Concentrating our attention upon the central facet, its clear ray
strikes the imagination, and forthwith transports us to a distant age
and climate. The air is full of lazy warmth. A full-fed river,
glassing the hot blue sky, slides in long curves through a low-lying,
illimitable plain. The rich earth, green with mighty crops, everywhere
exhales upward the quivering heat of her breath. An indolent,
dark-skinned race, turbaned and scantly clothed, move through the
meadows, splash in the river, and rest beneath the palm-trees, which
meet in graceful clusters here and there, as if striving to get
beneath one another's shadow. Dirty villages swarm and babble on the
river's brink.
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