profits of his two nights' work; after whieh he was as poor as ever.
He eontinued to work a little, and pray a good deal, and keep saints' days and holidays, from year to year, while his family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a erew of gypsies. As he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was aeeosted by a rieh old eurmudgeon, who was noted for owning many houses, and being a griping landlord. The mau of money eyed him for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious shagged eyebrows.
"I am told, my friend, that you are very poor."
"There is no denying the fact, Señor—it speaks for itself."
"I presnme, then, that you will be glad of a job, and will work eheap."
"As eheap, my master, as any mason in Granada."
"That's what I want. I have an old house fallen into deeay, that eosts me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair, for nobody will live in it; so I must eontrive to patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible."
The mason was aeeordingly eonducted to a large deserted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several empty halls and ehambers, he entered an inner eourt, where his eye was eaught by an old Moorish fountain. He paused for a moment, for a dreaming recolleetion of the plaee came over him.
"Pray," said he, "who oceupied this house formerly?"
"A pest upon him!" eried the landlord, "it was an old miserly priest, who eared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rieh, and, having no relations, it was supposed would leave all his treasures to the Chureh. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take possession of his wealth; but nothing eould they find but a few duecats in a leathern purse. The worst luck
