“Ochone!” cried the Irishwoman, “they all have the luck barrin' poor Molly McDogherty.”
The mica was handled, and George said to her compassionately, “You see, my poor girl, the first thing you should do is to heft it in your hand. Now see, your lump is not heavy like—”
“Pyrites!” said Isaac, dryly, handing George back his lump. “No! pyrites is heavier than mica—and gold than pyrites.”
“Mr. Levi, don't go to tell me this is not a metal,” remonstrated George, rather sulkily, “for I won't have it.”
“Nay, it is a metal,” replied Levi, calmly, “and a very useful metal, but not of the precious metals. It is iron.”
“How can it be iron when it is yellow? And how is one to know iron from gold, at any rate?”
“Be patient, my son.” said the old Jew calmly, “and learn. Take this needle. Here is a scale of gold; take it up on the needle-point. You have done it. Why? Because gold is a soft metal. Now take up this scale from your pyrites?”
“I can't.”
“No, because iron is a hard metal. Here is another childish test—a bloodstone, called by some the touchstone. Rub the pyrites on it. It colors it not—a hard metal. Now rub this little nugget of pure gold I have just bought.”
“Ay! this stains the stone yellow.”