"A miser," faltered the trembling dreamer; "what was his name?"
"Israel Wurm," replied the sexton.
Graveyard and sexton faded away; in their place arose a splendid grove of trees—a clearing—a village school house. Two boys were sauntering along the roadside, engaged in serious, childish talk. One was fair, with golden locks; the other dark-haired and grave of aspect. Israel started, for in the latter he recognized himself—a boy of fifty years ago.
"Israel," said the golden-haired boy, "it's 'lection day to-morrow; we'll hire Browning's horse and chaise, and go to Boston, and have a grand time on the Common, seeing all the shows."
"You forget, Mark," said the dark-haired boy, sadly, "that I have no money."
"What of that?" replied the other; "I have a pocket full; and what's mine is yours, you know. Come, cheer up, you'll one day he as rich as I am; and then it will be your turn to treat, you know. I can afford to be generous, and so would you be, if you had the means."
Then the shadow passed from the face of the dark-haired boy, and a smile lighted up his countenance, and the two schoolfellows passed on their way together.
Grove and school house passed away, melting into another scene like one of the dissolving views. Israel stood before a huge illuminated screen, in the midst of a gaping company of sight seers. He could see nothing but a confused mass of heads, vaguely lighted by the rays from that vast screen. It was some kind of an exhibition.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen," said a strange voice issuing from the darkness, "we shall show you the wonders of the oxy-hydrogen microscope; natural objects magnified five thousand times. Look and behold the proboscis of the common house fly."
Israel gazed with the rest, and soon a huge object, resembling the trunk of a monster elephant, appeared on the illuminated disk. It passed away.