understand the secret of this magic power. He who strives for wealth
only to _possess_ it is a heartless fool, and his fate will be that
of Midas--he will starve in the midst of his treasures. But he who
strives for wealth for the purpose of _giving_, he will discover that
money is the fountain of happiness; and in his hands the dead metal is
transformed into a living blessing. You may believe your father, who
knows the world, and who has drunk the bitter cup of poverty."

"You were once poor?" asked Elise, looking at her father with
astonishment.

Gotzkowsky smiled, and sank back in his chair, musing and silent.
After a pause he resumed: "Yes, I was poor. I have endured all the
horrors of poverty. I have hungered and thirsted, suffered misery
and privation, even as a little boy. Thus lay I once, wretched and
forsaken, in a ditch by the highway, and raised my hands to God on
high, praying but for a drop of water, but for a morsel of bread. Ah!
so strong was the belief of the goodness of God in my heart, that I
was convinced He would open the heavens, and reach to me with His own
hand the food for which I prayed. I waited and waited, in despairing
anxiety, but the heavens were not opened, and not even a drop of rain
came to cool my parched lips. But the cloud, which I had looked for in
vain in the sky, was seen at last on the highway, and, as I saw this
whirling cloud of dust, in the midst of which a splendid equipage
came rolling on, I said to myself: 'Here comes God!' and then I found
strength enough to raise myself from my knees, to hurry toward the
rapidly passing vehicle, and to cry with a voice which was almost
overpowered by the noise of the wheels, 'Pity! pity! give me a morsel
of bread, a drop of water! Have pity on me!' A hand was stretched
toward me out of the cloud of dust, and I saw a small, brightly