"My brothers sold me to the merchants with their camels. They made my father believe I was killed, and brought me here and sold me; but I know it is written that my brother Benjamin will come and bring my father to me."
"Is it not written that Jacob did go down into Egypt with his whole family, and that he wept on Joseph's neck, and said he was willing to die?" said Mr. Tompkins, to lead him out of this strange hallucination.
"Yes, yes—oh, yes!" the boy cried, eagerly.
"Did not Moses deliver the children of Israel from bondage long after Jacob's death?"
"I remember now that he did," said Joe.
"Then how can you be Joseph, when he died three or four thousand years ago?"
The boy reflected a moment, and then said:
"Who can I be, if I am not Joseph?"
"Some one who imagines himself Joseph," said Mr. Tompkins. "Now, try to think who you really are and where you came from."
"I am not Socrates, for he drank the hemlock and died, nor am I Julius Caesar, for he was killed by Brutus," the poor lunatic replied.