"Come, old Dutchman," cried one of the young men, "let us see your
pictures, if you can swear they are worth looking at!"

"O yes, Captain," answered the Jew,--whether as a matter of courtesy
or craft, he styled everybody Captain,--"I shall show you, indeed,
some very superb pictures!"

So, placing his box in a proper position, he invited the young men and
girls to look through the glass orifices of the machine, and proceeded
to exhibit a series of the most outrageous scratchings and daubings,
as specimens of the fine arts, that ever an itinerant showman had the
face to impose upon his circle of spectators. The pictures were worn
out, moreover, tattered, full of cracks and wrinkles, dingy with
tobacco smoke, and otherwise in a most pitiable condition. Some
purported to be cities, public edifices, and ruined castles in Europe;
others represented Napoleon's battles and Nelson's sea fights; and in
the midst of these would be seen a gigantic, brown, hairy hand,--which
might have been mistaken for the Hand of Destiny, though, in truth, it
was only the showman's,--pointing its forefinger to various scenes of
the conflict, while its owner gave historical illustrations. When,
with much merriment at its abominable deficiency of merit, the
exhibition was concluded, the German bade little Joe put his head into
the box. Viewed through the magnifying glasses, the boy's round, rosy
visage assumed the strangest imaginable aspect of an immense
Titanic[5] child, the mouth grinning broadly, and the eyes and every
other feature overflowing with fun at the joke. Suddenly, however,
that merry face turned pale, and its expression changed to horror, for
this easily impressed and excitable child had become sensible that the
eye of Ethan Brand was fixed upon him through the glass.