'
'We shall yet see an ass mount a ladder,'[1] exclaimed Caleb, with
uplifted eyes of wonder.
'It is true, though,' continued the Prince; 'often have I heard my
father tell the tale. He was then a child, and his mother held him up to
see the procession return, and all the people shouted "The sceptre has
not gone out of Jacob."'
'It was indeed a great day for Israel.'
'Nay, that is nothing. I could tell you such things! But we prattle; our
business is not yet done. You to the people; the widow and the orphan
are waiting. Give freely, good Caleb, give freely; the spoils of the
Canaanite are no longer ours, nevertheless the Lord is still our God,
and, after all, even this is a great day for Israel. And, Caleb, Caleb,
bid my nephew, David Alroy, know that I would speak with him.'
'I will do all promptly, good master! We wondered that our honoured
lord, your nephew, went not up with the donation this day.'
'Who bade you wonder? Begone, sir! How long are you to idle here? Away!
'They wonder he went not up with the tribute to-day. Ay! surely, a
common talk. This boy will be our ruin, a prudent hand to wield our
shattered sceptre. I have observed him from his infancy; he should have
lived in Babylon.
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