time that they must struggle to "keep up appearances" before the world, the deposits of diamonds, watches, and fine jewelry are something enormous, and constantly increasing. I was shown,—under cover of the promise of secrecy, of course—set after set of diamonds and pearls of great value, which had adorned the persons of the proudest and most haughty beauties of any land, many of whom are known to history. One set, of antique pattern, but great value, once adorned the brow of "Isabella the Catholic," who sold them to fit out Columbus for his voyage which gave to Castile and to Leon, a New World. I was allowed to draw from its solid gold and diamond incrusted scabbard, and inspect, the sword of one of the famous generals of the early part of this century, on which twenty-seven hundred dollars had been loaned.
Such a commentary on the vanity of human pride and ambition as may be read on each of the four walls of this great, cold, silent, vaulted chamber, I do not care to read again. All the forms which human vanity assumes are there. The jeweled order bestowed by Iturbide, or Santa Anna, or Maximilian, or some European monarch; the golden cup which figured at the baptism of some child of a noble house; the silver plate off which royal guests have dined; the saint in frame of solid gold; the saddle, one mass of burnished silver, on which the successful revolutionist rode in triumph; the watch-chain and trinkets of the courtezan, and the jeweled cross worn on the bosom of the pious and sainted mother of an honored family, lie there side by side, and will go out together, to be sold to strangers, and borne away to strange lands, to be regarded, henceforth as curious mementoes of travel and adventure, and nothing more.
