Chapter IX.

The two families pursued their usual course
of industry until the fast of Esther, which
was immediately succeeded by the tumultuousVol. II.B B1v 2
feast of Purim, which is a privileged
season of mirth and misrule among the poorer
order of Jews; while the opulent distinguish
it by active benevolence, and sending portions
to the indigent; so that there is not to
be found among them, a single individual
without ample means of indulging the sensual
enjoyments of Purim. The noisy mirth
of this period extends even to the synagogue,
where the usual heartless devotion is not to
be seen, while the Megillah or book of Esther
is read. The children attend in troops,
with wooden hammers, to beat on the seats,
when the name of Haman occurs, and the
whole scene is revolting, when viewed in connexion
with religion, and considered as a religious
rite. At the date of this sketch, a
fair was annually permitted to be held, in
the square of Duke’s place, which is now
happily put down. The lane where Jemima
resided, presented a gay and busy scene.
Every apartment had a table in its centre,
spread with abundance of cold provisions,
and every description of ardent spirits, and
any person who chose was a welcome guest
during the two days of Purim.

B2r 3

In the evenings, cards, dancing, and visiting
each other, in masquerade habits, were
observed with great spirit.

Jemima’s quiet habits assimilated not with
scenes of this giddy description; but she was
obliged to accept of her Aunt’s warm invitation
to attend on the second evening, in her
apartment, where Wolfe and Matilda, with
some chosen companions, intended to act a
piece, composed by them, to represent the
origin of Purim.

Leah Marks had also been included in the
invitation, but she preferred remaining at
home, as she considered the theatre a sinful
place, and often expressed her regret at the
passionate attachment of her nation to that
species of amusement.

Absurd as Jemima had considered the idea
of a scenic representation in Iscah’s apartment,
especially lumbered as it usually was,
with antique heavy mahogany furniture, she
was surprised to observe the alteration it had
undergone since the morning, under the superintendence
of Matilda. The furniture
had been removed to the back yard, without
any regard as to its exposure to the weather B2 B2v 4
A green baize curtain divided the space intended
for the actors, from the audience,
whose seats were ranged in regular rows. Six
sabbath lamps, suspended in a circle, from
the centre of the ceiling, shed a brilliant light
on the confined sphere of action.

Among the spectators were two strangers,
evidently Gentiles, and quite unknown to the
party, excepting to Iscah, who paid great
attention to their accommodation, and installed
them in chairs at the upper end of the
chamber.

The drama of Esther was modelled by Matilda
and her assistants, rather, as it suited
the capabilities of the actors, and the convenience
of their small stage, than in accordance
with the Megillah. The scene of Haman
doing honor to Mordecai, by command of the
king, was necessarily omitted; but the other
parts were conducted in a manner that elicited
great applause. Matilda, habited as
the regal Jewess, seemed to move in her native
sphere. The proud character of her
beauty, and the majesty of her form, gave a
just idea of the fascinating Queen of Persia,
and seemed, at once, to account for her influence B3r 5
over the King, so beneficial to her
devoted nation.

The ludicrous idea, of a play performed in
such a spot, and by such actors, was forgotten
whenever Matilda appeared, and the
whole finished with an elcat, often denied
to the most brilliant circles, as far as sincerity
is concerned.

At the close efof the exhibition, Matilda,
throwing a cloak over her royal attire, bowed
gracefully to the assembly, and retired to an
upper room, to unrobe, as she declared. Iscah
spoke to her, in a low but earnest tone,
as she passed out, and presently afterwards
the Gentile visitors departed. The guests
were then put in requisition to assist in replacing
the furniture, and, in the course of
an hour, order was so far restored, as to enable
the party to enjoy a round game of
cards. While all this bustle was going on,
and, indeed, until cards gave way to a plentiful
supper, Matilda had not been particularly
thought of, by the guests; then however,
her absence occasioned enquiry, and it
was observed that she had not been seen
after the close of the performance. Reuben B3 B3v 6
volunteered to seek her, but without success,
and it was at last concluded, that she had,
in compliance with the custom of the season,
gone to make some calls, in her assumed
character of Queen Esther.

The night wore away,—the guests departed,
—but Matilda came not! Wolfe and Jemima
were alarmed at an absence so protracted;
but Iscah preserved an unaccountable tranquility,
on the subject, and bade Wolfe
conduct Jemima home, as she made no doubt
Matilda was in perfect security.

This behavior, on the part of Iscah, quieted
her relatives for that night; but when
days and even weeks elapsed without the
return of Matilda, the subject was commented
upon through the whole quarter. The
elders of the synagogue also questioned
Wolfe, closely, respecting his sister, but he
could not elucidate a subject he was totally
ignorant of, and Iscah, if privy to her daughter’s
evasion, concealed it too well for any
explanation to be drawn from her. Thus,
therefore, it rested, and after a time, Matilda,
and her strange disappearance ceased to be
a subject of discourse among her late associates.

B4r 7

Leah Marks, on being made acquainted
by Jemima, with the events of the evening,
declared her opinion to be, that Matilda was
in Gentile hands, and very freely commented
on the evident want of filial piety
by her desertion of so fond a mother, as Iscah.
Jemima was alone with her aunt one
evening, when the discourse turned on this
subject, and she repeated Leah’s remark on
Matilda’s want of filial affection to so tender
a parent.

“Jemima!” replied Iscah, “blame not my
child. I know I may safely confide in you;
as far as I am allowed, I will, therefore assure
you, Matilda, whatever may be her
faults, is certainly not an undutiful child.
Her love to me, and anxiety for my peace,
had caused her a struggle that began to injure
her health, and surely would have
broken her heart, had not I discovered it
in time to comfort and advise her.”

Jemima was astonished at this account.
She had perceived, too clearly, that Matilda
was a prey to some carefully concealed grief,
but had merely a suspicion that Iscah was
conscious of it, and she now remarked it to
her aunt.

B4v 8

“The eye of a mother is keen,” replied
Iscah, “I saw the alteration in Matilda,
long before I spoke to her about it, but I
plainly discerned that she wished to conceal
it from me, and, hoping it would pass away
said nothing. But when I saw my beautiful
girl, sinking day by day, yet attempting to
bear her trouble in silence and alone, I determined
to share it, be it of what nature it
might; and I have shared it; and have the
pleasure of knowing that she is now happy,
though not, perhaps, in the way I should
have chosen, had the choice been in my
power.”

Unsatisfactory as was this partial explanation,
Jemima was too prudent and feeling,
to press the subject, and, from that time, the
name of Matilda, was not mentioned between them.

Wolfe, appeared also to have had his conjectures
respecting his sister, satisfied in
some way; for, after a time, her name never
passed his lips, and if any allusion was made
to her, in his presence, he immediately changed
the subject, or left the chamber.

The feast of Passover so solemnly and literally B5r 9
observed by the Jews, though its true
meaning is hid from their eyes, now drew
near, immediately after which, Wolfe and
Reuben intended to take their spring journey.
The daily habits of neatness for
which Jemima was remarkable, made this season
of hard labor to her neighbors, a light
task to her. To clear away the leaven, and
exchange the culinary articles in daily use,
for those used only at Passover, and kept in
a separate place during the rest of the year,
was almost the whole she had to do, but, as
Matilda was absent, she kindly assisted Iscah,
whose apartment had never before looked
so well, though at all times far neater than
any others, in that lane, exclusive of Jemima’s.

On the day, the eve of which ushered in
the holy festival, the leaven was put away
by ten in the morning, and the rest of the
day was occupied in preparations for the ceremonies
observed in each family, on the
two first nights, of Passover, after the short
synagogue service. This year Iscah wished
to join Jemima in these observances in the
chamber of the latter. She had, until now, B5v 10
been accustomed to see Matilda, in her own,
on such occasions, and her motive was understood
by Jemima, though she of course
offered no comment.

Reuben strictly observed the usual fast,
imposed on the eldest sons of Jewish families
on this day, as a memorial of the slaying the
first born of the Egyptians, while those who
were sheltered under the mysterious protection
of the sprinkled blood, that holy type!
were safe from the avenger. But alas!
though this deluded people, so tenaciously
observe symbols, and shadows, they discern
not the glorious fulfilment of them in the
person of Jesus. And while they count the
blood of “the lamb slain to take away the sin
of the world” an unholy thing, may indeed
be truly said to crucify Him afresh, and
lightly esteem the true and only Rock of
their salvation!

On account of his eldership, Wolfe was
requested to preside at the ceremonies of
Passover,Open note 1Back to note ¹ and the whole of the festival, B6r 11
continuing eight days, was conducted by the
united families in a peculiarly decorous manner,
Leah Marks having taken great pains
to explain it to them, as well as she herself
was acquainted with it, which however, was
wholly in the letter, of the spirit she knew
nothing.

B6v 12

On the Passover Sabbath, called by way
of distinction, the great Sabbath, a sermon
is preached by the presiding Rabbi, but neither
in English, or the Lingua Judaica, so
that the poor at least, understand not a syllable
of it. Yet they attend nevertheless, as C1r 13
a matter of course. But the days approach
when the ancient people, shall no longer
perish for lack of knowledge. May the Lord
hasten the glorious epoch!

At the close of this festival, so deeply interesting,
whether viewed in its type or the
fulfilment of it, Reuben and Wolfe prepared
for their second journey, under the favorable
circumstance of an early and beautiful
spring.

Chapter X.

The first few days of their journey, Wolfe
acted, in the presence of Reuben, with his
accustomed circumspection. But, though
he did not think proper to throw aside at
once the dissimulative mask he wore, he
ventured to raise it in some slight degree, C2r 15
that he might observe its effects on his
young companion, and take his measures
accordingly.

The single-hearted Reuben was not slow
in observing the unusual conduct of his cousin,
but was quite at a loss to comprehend it.
He did not like, however, to remonstrate with
one who was not only his near relative, but
also his superior in years and knowledge,
whether religious or temporal, and who was
uniformly kind and obliging to him.

Nevertheless, Reuben was unwilling to do
such things as his good mother had taught
him to consider sinful in a faithful Jew; so,
after much inward deliberation, in which
way to act for the best, he resolved to persevere
in guarding his own conduct during
this journey, according to Jemima’s and his
Rabbi’s lessons, and keep on friendly terms
with his cousin, and nominal master, without
copying his example, where it might
compromise his religious duties. Reuben felt
glad to know he should have, on their return,
the benefit of his honoured mother’s
advice for his future guidance.

The proceedings of Wolfe, by which ReubenC2 C2v 16
had been so much annoyed, were, as yet,
but trivial omissions in themselves, though
to a Jew highly important. He neglected
his ablutions, and, for three successive
mornings, had sat down to breakfast without
even touching his phylacteries; and,
worst of all, during their halt on the Sabbath,
which was at a village ale-house, as
there was not any Jewish residents near,
Wolfe had more than once stirred the fire,
and taken up the lighted candle, though in
a way between jest and earnest, he pretended
to have quite forgot himself at the moment.

Encouraged by the quiet demeanour of
Reuben, the result of this secret determination,
Wolfe, who mistook it for a growing
apathy towards observances so often a heavy
burden, began to act still more unreservedly.
Hitherto, he was only chargeable with sins of
omission; those of actual and open commission
had not yet been added.

The travellers remained at their Sabbath
quarters until Monday morning, because
Wolfe had an order to leave, at a farm ten
miles from their present abode, and very
little out of the line of their journey. They C3r 17
reached the farm-house just about noon.
The farmer, his wife, and household, were
about sitting down to their dinner in the
kitchen, and there Wolfe and Reuben were
at once conducted, and seats placed for them
at the table, as a matter of course.

Reuben, in this novel situation at the table
of a Gentile, covered with forbidden food,
felt at a loss what to say. He resolved,
however, if asked to partake of it, to decline
it with firmness, though respectfully; and he
expected Wolfe would set the example, as he
had done in their late journey. He therefore
looked at Wolfe, before he ventured any
observation, in order to see how he would
act. The farmer’s wife had just cut a large
piece of pork, from an immense joint of that
odious food, and poured melted butter over
it; the plate, heaped with vegetables, was
set before Wolfe, who not only accepted of
it without any remark, but actually began to
eat of it, with apparent relish. Reuben was
petrified, and about to express his surprise at
what he saw, notwithstanding his previous
resolution to the contrary, when his attention
was diverted another way. An heaped up C3 C3v 18
plate of the same food was placed before
him, and he was requested to make himself
quite at home, for he was kindly welcome.
Reuben, casting a look of disgust on the
well-meant hospitality exhibited in the ample
mess set before him, pushed the plate as far
from him as he could, forgetting, at the moment,
the respectful manner he had intended
to adopt.

The farmer’s wife, surprised at such uncouth
behaviour, asked Wolfe what ailed his
boy; he whispered a reply, but Reuben, who
saw his hostess smile at what Wolfe had
said to her, thought proper to answer for
himself, and told her Jews who kept to their
religion properly, could not eat of Christian
meat.

“But,” said he, “if you will please to let
me cut some bread with my own knife, and
can give me an egg, I shall be very thankful,
for indeed I am both weary and hungry.”

Wolfe, with a displeased look, called him
an obstinate fool, and declared, he ought
either to accept what was so kindly set before
him, or starve; but the kind hostess
said, if the boy really made it a matter of C4r 19
conscience, he should have his way; he
would grow older and wiser, and then would
know better than to refuse any of God’s creatures,
that were appointed for man’s food.
An ample meal of eggs, bread and butter, a
sallad, and a mug of ale, was then, by her
order, placed on a small table for him; and
she seemed pleased at the manner in which
Reuben, after washing his hands, partook of
his meal.

Wolfe was late before he had completed
his dealings with the farmer, who was an
annual and good customer, and therefore one
of those with whom he dealt on equitable
terms. A bed was offered and accepted;
and Wolfe, to the continued annoyance of
Reuben shared the farmer’s supper, as he
had done his dinner, and with evident gratification.
This time, Reuben made no remark,
but he thought it could not be the
first time Wolfe had acted in this manner,
as he seemed quite at his ease, and devoured
rashers of bacon as if he was eating Coshur
meat.

Mrs. Gray, the farmer’s wife, had served
Reuben apart, to his own mind, before she C4v 20
sat down at the supper-table; and, after the
meal was over, she asked the young Jew
why he so much disliked pork.

“It is forbidden in the scriptures,” replied
Reuben.

“Oh, but that was before our Saviour’s
time,” said Mrs. Gray.

Reuben was at a loss how to answer. He
understood her to mean Jesus of Nazareth,
as the Saviour; but she had treated him
kindly, and he had a grateful heart, and did
not wish to say any thing likely to grieve or
offend her; however, as she seemed to expect
an answer, he replied, in a low and melancholy
tone of voice.

“We have no Saviour!”

Had Mrs. Gray been a spiritual Christian,
this might have been a desirable opening,
for instructing the poor Jewish boy, and
shewing him the way of salvation; but alas!
she was only a nominal one, though extremely
amiable and benevolent, she, therefore,
merely said in reply.

“Well how strange! then Jews do not
believe in our Saviour!”

And no more passed, on a subject of such C5r 21
vital importance, between the unbelieving
Jew, and the soi-distant Christian.

After they left the farm in the morning,
Wolfe, wishing to fathom Reuben’s opinion
of his conduct more fully, spoke to him
frankly on the subject, and Reuben expressed,
as he had expected, great surprise at
what he called downright wickedness, though
he expected his cousin would be enraged at
him, for his plain dealing. Wolfe, however,
only smiled at his warmth, and told him, he
once had the same feelings and views of the
matter.

“But,” continued he, “I am now older
and wiser as Mrs. Gray said; my dear Reuben
it is all very well to be strict when we
are at home, or among Jews, or when it will
forward our business among the Gentiles.
After all, do you really believe that the Holy
and Blessed One condescends to notice what
we eat, or how we eat it? No, No! Reuben,
our Rabbins lay on us heavy burdens, which
I really think they often shake off their own
backs in private. Do not you remember the
answer Rabbi Moses, one of the best among
them, made, when I remarked to him, that C5v 22
certain rules we are bound to obey, are not
in the five books, nor yet in the Prophets?”

“I think I do recollect it,” said Reuben,
after a thoughtful pause, “He said I believe,
that many of our observances are intended
as fences about the law, that it may not be
easily or lightly infringed, by the ignorant
or unwary.”

“He did say so,” answered Wolfe, “and
my dear cousin, I must tell you, that of all
situations that of Jewish Pedlar, would be
the most intolerable, if he is never to be allowed,
in times of necessity, to step over an
outward fence. Farmer Gray would not be
the good customer he is, if I had not acted,
as I did yesterday.”

“But,” observed Reuben, “you cannot
make him an excuse for not laying TephillinOpen note 2Back to note ²
or washing your hands at meals.”

“Oh cousin!” said Wolfe with a smile,
“you are a keen observer, but for those sort
of things, we have Yom Kipur every year.”

“No Wolfe, you are greatly mistaken”
said Reuben, very gravely, “my mother has C6r 23
often warned me, that the day of atonement
was not appointed for wilful sins.”

Wolfe was surprised at Reuben’s reply,
but he prudently shifted his attack.

“Well,” answered he, “the question was
I believe originally, though we have wandered
from it, about eating with Goyim, now
I tell you candidly Reuben, such will be my
practice, whenever it suits me; and that
not against my conscience either, for I see
no harm in it. You have a good memory
Reuben, do you recollect the quotation of
Rabbi Moses in his Drosha,Open note 3Back to note ³ the last Sabbath
we were in town? it was from Hilch
Yesadi Hattorah cap. ix, sec. 3.” continued
he, after consulting his memorandum book,
“for I noted it in the evening.”

“I remember something of it, but not the
exact words,” answered Reuben, “have you
written them in your book, Wolfe?”

“I have,” replied Wolfe, “and they go to
show, that mere man may, in some cases,
actually sanction and teach us to transgress
the law. These are the very words quoted C6v 24
by Rabbi Moses. ‘If a prophet, whom we
know to be a prophet, should order us to
transgress any of the command which are
mentioned in the law, or any commandment
whether heavy or light, for a time, we are
ordered to hearken to him, and we learn from
the former wise men, by tradition, that in
every case where a prophet shall say unto
thee, transgress the words of the law, hear
him, as Elijah on Mount Carmel, except in
the case of idolatry.’”Open note 4Back to note ⁴

“What say you to this Reuben?”

“That I am not wise enough to speak
where the fathers command us!” replied
Reuben; “neither do I understand this saying,
—it is a hard one.”

“To finish our little debate” said Wolfe,
“you are not obliged to do as I do; but I
expect you will, in return for my kindness,
keep what you observe to yourself. One
day I am persuaded, you will certainly think
and act as I now do.”

D1r 25

I sincerely hope not, thought Reuben, but
he did not venture to say so, and having
given a promise to his cousin, that he would
not betray his mode of thinking and acting,
nor mention what he saw, to any one, his
mother expected, Wolfe, who had the highest
opinion of Jemima’s prudence, was satisfied.
They therefore, pursued their way, to
the next market town, where Wolfe meant
to make a short stay, on account of a fair to
be held there on the two ensuing days, discoursing
amicably on different subjects.

Chapter XI.

Though Reuben had been grieved and
annoyed by the lax principles of Wolfe, as
it respected religious observances, he was
destined to be much more so at this fair.
They arrived early in the evening, and found
the town full of life and bustle, as is usual D2r 27
on such occasions. Wolfe and Reuben arranged
the contents of their cases, and carefully
wiped, with fine cotton, the watches
and jewellery, that they might appear to advantage,
when exhibited to the country
people, next day.

Wolfe carried with him a small valise,
carefully fastened by a patent padlock, the
key of which he always kept about him.
The contents of this guarded valise Reuben
had never yet inspected, though once, in
reply to his inquiries respecting it, Wolfe
had said, with a peculiar sort of smile,
“That valise contains the true profits of my
trade, as you will one day find out.” This
evening, the contents of it were displayed
on the table, consisting of watches, rings,
broaches, pins, and trinkets of every description;
and so splendid and superior in appearance
to their other stock, that Reuben
was almost lost in admiration of their exquisite
polish and beauty.

Wolfe was not a little amused at the manner
in which his artless cousin surveyed the
glittering display, but at length interrupted D2 D2v 28
his examination, by inquiring how he liked
the contents of his valise.

“They are beautiful articles!” exclaimed
Reuben, “but why did not you shew them
to Farmer Gray, and the lady who bought
a pair of ear-rings?”

“Reuben,” replied Wolfe, with a cunning
look, “it is time you were more
knowing, if you wish to get on in the
world. You are child enough to be taken
with these baubles, but all is not gold that
glitters. These sparkling, tempting things,
are trumpery, purposely made to sell at
country fairs to village fools, who are caught
by glare; and we shall be far enough off,
before they find out their mistake. As to
offering them to Farmer Gray, that would
never do. I secure my yearly customers by
serving them well; for chance ones, I keep
these articles, which are my chief profit, and
the cream of my trade.”

Wolfe might have gone on in this way for
an hour, for Reuben was too much shocked
to make any answer. His late father was
proverbially honest;—his beloved mother
hated even the semblance of fraud. Their D3r 29
united lessons had sunk deep in his heart,
which revolted at what he had just heard;
and he actually shed tears of indignation, as
Wolfe so coolly exposed the baseness of his
heart, and the dishonest mode of his dealings,
where detection was not likely to take place.
Wolfe could not but discern the unpleasant
feeling he had produced, but he cared little
respecting it. He considered Reuben as an
ignorant mother-spoilt boy, who would be
wiser in time; and, therefore, bidding him
compose his feelings, as he had nothing to
do with these things at present, he returned
them to the valise.

“Neither at present, nor ever, will I have
any such articles for sale,” replied Reuben,
sorrowfully; “if such are Jewish dealings,
well may the Gentiles treat us as they do,
and call us Jew cheats. But, as my mother
says,—‘Honesty is the best policy.’”

Wolfe laughed outright at the serious
manner in which Reuben spoke, calling him
a silly child, who would one day be glad
to do that which he now considered so criminal.

“Never!” answered Reuben, decisively, D3 D3v 30
and the altercation terminated, for this time,
between the cousins.

The next day the fair commenced, and
Reuben witnessed, with silent, but unaffected
sorrow, a practical illustration of
Wolfe’s manner of trading, when it could be
done with impunity. With an assumed candour,
he advised his ignorant customers to
take articles less showy than those contained
in the valise; but he did this in a way that
confirmed them in selecting the goods which
he affected to wish they should not choose,
and the whole of his useless, though elegantly
decorated stock, was cleared off his hands,
on the first day, at a profit considerably
above even what he had anticipated.

When they returned in the evening, instead
of arranging for the next day’s sale, he
carefully packed his cases.

“We must be off as soon as it is light,”
said he, to the wondering Reuben; “I did
not expect such a quick sale. The gudgeons
caught the bait at once this time; but they
may get enlightened,—and, at all events, I
will not dispose of my good stock to such
judges.”

The disgusted Reuben made no reply. D4r 31
They arose at the first dawn of morning;
and Wolfe, after telling the people at the inn
that he was going to a place exactly the reverse
of his real route, quitted the town,
where he had so fully displayed, to his honest
relative, the depravity of his corrupt
heart, exulting in the success he had met
with, and attributing Reuben’s visible dejection
to his not having sold a single article on
the previous day.

“You are greatly mistaken, cousin Wolfe,”
replied Reuben; “it is your dealings, not
my own, that make me feel sad.”

Wolfe made no answer to this direct
avowal; and, at the close of a very long and
fatiguing day’s journey, the weary pedestrians
reached their destination, which was
at a town where several Jewish families resided,
and Wolfe proceeded direct to his
usual quarters, with a widow of his nation.

It was quite refreshing to the spirits of
Reuben, when he found himself once more
domesticated under a Jewish roof. He had
fared but badly for some days past, while
Wolfe had enjoyed, without scruple, a large
share of Gentile food. Now, however, Reuben D4v 32
forgot the past, as he partook of the
comfortable meal prepared by their hostess,
in a way somewhat similar to his dear mother’s
neat habits.

Lydia Myers was a respectable woman,
the widow of a travelling pedlar, who had left
her a small pittance, which she increased by
receiving Jewish travellers, so as to live,
with frugal management, in a decent manner.
With her Wolfe decided to stay over
the Sabbath, as there were some large farms
in the vicinity he wished to call on.

Reuben observed that Wolfe now laid
aside his late free mode of living, and assumed
his usual habits as a seemingly devout
Jew. His phylacteries, so long disused,
were now unpacked before he went to bed,
and used quite ostentatiously next morning,
while Lydia Myers prepared the coffee for
breakfast; after which, he took a light valise,
and, telling Reuben he might repose
himself for that day, went out, merely saying
he should return in time for supper.

Reuben was naturally an obliging and industrious
boy; he therefore offered his services
to assist the widow. He drew water, D5r 33
cleaned the knives and windows, washed
down the yard, and made himself so generally
useful, that Lydia Myers said his mother
deserved great praise for bringing him
up so well, and this commendation made the
dutiful son ample amends for his trouble.
In the after part of the day, the good widow
shewed him the town, and introduced him
to several Jews in their way, in a very obliging
manner, owing to the good opinion she
had conceived of him, from his attentive
conduct; and, after taking tea at the house
of one of them, they returned to prepare supper
for Wolfe.

It was very late in the evening when
Wolfe returned, but he appeared to be in
very high spirits, and in a talkative mood.
He asked Lydia many questions about different
gentlemen’s residences in the neighbourhood,
and seemed curious to know if
she could give him any information respecting
a cottage ornée, which he had observed
very minutely, and described as being situated
at the south entrance of the town, and
about a mile from it. Lydia considered
awhile, and then asked “if he meant that odd D5v 34
looking place, surrounded by a shrubbery,
and known by the name of Turret Cottage”.

“The very same,” he replied.

Lydia only knew that the present inhabitants
were young people, and lived extremely
private. The master of the house was in the
army, and often absent. She believed he
was from home now, for she had not seen
him lately, and he used to ride past the door
frequently with his lady, who was a very
handsome young Goya. They kept a gig,
but their name she had never heard.

Wolfe seemed satisfied with this account,
and Reuben thought he intended to call,
with his goods, on the lady at Turret Cottage
next day; but, to his great surprise,
Wolfe, who had, until now, always made the
best of his time, actually dressed himself
very neatly in his Sabbath suit, and, telling
Lydia he would leave his goods and Reuben
in her care for the next two days, departed,
without satisfying the natural and earnest
inquiries of his cousin, as to where he was
going, and only taking with him a change of
linen, and a pair of light shoes, to exchange D6r 35
the boots he wore, when he reached his destination.

Lydia, who had known Wolfe some years,
was astonished at his proceedings, especially
when she found Reuben entirely unable to
explain them, and said, she should certainly
closely question Wolfe on his return. Meantime,
she advised Reuben to take his own
valise, and go among the Jews she had introduced
him to, as they were very likely either
to become purchasers, or recommend him to
custom. Reuben thankfully accepted this
friendly counsel, and acted on it so judiciously,
that he returned, in the evening,
with his little stock considerably reduced;
and felt a pleasure in reflecting on the good
account he should have to give Wolfe of
his success, when left to himself. He was,
however, aware, that part of it was owing
to the unaccountable manner in which
Wolfe had neglected to seek orders, and
so let him reap the first fruits of that
market.

Chapter XII.

Contrary to the promise of Wolfe, he
did not return at the time he had named,
and the approach of Friday evening without
any tidings, precluded all hope of his arrival
during the Sabbath, much to the surprise
and vexation of both Reuben and Lydia.
They had, however, no apprehension that he
would not return eventually, as his valuable
stock was in their care, and he had also left E1r 37
a sealed canvas bag of money in her hands,
for safety.

When the Sabbath approached, Reuben
went to the evening service. The Jews in
that place were too few to have a regular
synagogue, but they had fitted up a large
room, in the house of the most opulent among
them for this purpose, and Reuben was surprised
at the clever arrangement of the miniature
place of worship. It was complete
in all its details. There was the reading
desk,—the veiled ark,—the massive candelabras,
—the latticed gallery,—the pewed seats,
—and even the formidable synagogue-bar!

At the close of the service, several invitations
awaited the acceptance of Reuben, but
he declined them modestly, and returned to
the widow, accompanied by a Polish Jew,
who had arrived late in the afternoon, and
was also a lodger with Lydia.

Rabbi Mordecai was not a pedlar; he travelled
the country to make purchases of
clothes, which he did not dispose of in England,
but, when he had accumulated a sufficiently
large quantity, returned with them to
his native country, where he was enabled to Vol. II.E E1v 38
procure a ready sale for those articles of merchandise,
which amply repaid his toil and
expence. He had already made four journies
from Poland to England, bringing with
him rich furs and valuable down, for which
articles he had regular customers in London.
To Reuben he was a most interesting companion,
for he was a native of Bielsk, and
had known his late father and his family.
The evening, therefore, passed more pleasantly
with Reuben than any since he had
left London.

Lydia and her Gentile assistant were up
very early, to accommodate her lodgers with
an hurried breakfast, before they proceeded
to synagogue, where Rabbi Mordecai, as a
stranger, received the customary honours.
It was, however, a very inauspicious service,
owing to an accident that occurred at the
close of the worship. In returning the law
to its depository behind the veil, Rabbi Mordecai
had the misfortune to let the holy
scroll, which, from its massive decorations,
was very heavy, slip from his arms on the
floor! All present were filled with consternation,
for it was considered as an event E2r 39
boding evil to the whole assembly; and when
the agitated Rabbi announced his intention
to expiate the involuntary sin by a solemn
fast, as soon as the Sabbath closed, the
elders of the small community not only approved
of his resolution, but also enjoined its
observance on the whole congregation, with
the exception of children, and those who
might be seriously indisposed.

Rabbi Mordecai returned home much dejected
at what had occurred, and, as soon as
dinner was over, retired to his own apartment,
requesting he might not be disturbed,
until it was time to dismiss the Sabbath.
Reuben shared his regret; for such an occurrence
is no trifle, in the opinion of a devout
Jew, so deeply do they venerate the scrolls
of the law used in synagogue worship.

Lydia, equally, disconcerted, remained at
home in the afternoon; but, as the weather
was very fine, she would not permit Reuben
to share her solitude, but sent him to walk
in the suburbs, till it was near the close of
the holy day. He happened, though without
design, to take the south side of the
town, and passed along, much enjoying the E2 E2v 40
pure air,—the song of birds,—the fragrance
of early flowers,—and all the delightful accompaniments
of a fine spring in the country.
Reuben thought, as he walked forward, of
his dear mother, and the delight it would
afford him were she at his side. His
thoughts then reverted to Wolfe,—his general
conduct,—the deception it had so painfully
unfolded,—and his present mysterious
absence. Absorbed in these various meditations,
Reuben forgot the lapse of time, until
the shades of evening reminded him that he
had none to lose, if he wished to reach
Lydia’s house by the time the stars appeared.
This, however, as he was an excellent pedestrian,
he made no doubt of accomplishing,
and hastened forward, with all the speed he
was master of, when, suddenly, a hand laid
on his shoulder arrested his progress, and,
turning quickly round, he, to his complete
astonishment, beheld Wolfe!

“Whither so fast, young gentleman?”
said the latter, in no very complacent tone.

Reuben hastened to say, though a little
surprised at his cousin’s strange manner,
that, attracted by the beauty of the weather, E3r 41
he had walked farther than he had intended,
and was now hastening to get home by the
close of Sabbath.

“Then you really have not been watching
me,” said Wolfe; “you are sure of that, cousin
Reuben?”

The honest, amiable boy, was confounded
at the question.

“Oh! cousin Wolfe,” said he reproachfully,
“is it so you think of me? I have
told you the truth; did I ever deceive you?
besides why should I watch you; and how
could I, even if I wished to do so, since I
knew not where you had gone.”

Wolfe saw that he had gone too far, and
hastened to soothe Reuben. The placable
boy readily accepted his apology, though he
felt pained at heart by his cousin supposing
him capable of being a spy on his actions,
and they walked on together for some time
in silence.

It was broken by Wolfe, who asked Reuben
if he had not admired the house just
before them. Reuben looked up at the object
pointed out by his cousin, and replied E3 E3v 42
that he had not noticed it before, but thought
it a strange, odd building.

“It is beautifully situated,” replied Wolfe;
“They call it Turret Cottage.”

Reuben recollected the name, and what
Lydia had said respecting its owners, but
felt no interest in it, and therefore made no
reply, and the cousins walked on in silence,
till Wolfe said to his cousin, in an abrupt
manner,

“I suppose you would like to know what
I have been doing with myself since I left
you, and if you will faithfully promise to
keep my secret, I will disclose it to you, and
also take you to the same place.”

“You know you may depend on me,” replied
Reuben, “if you expect my mother;
I never will bind myself to keep any secret
from her.”

“Then there is an end of it at once,” answered
Wolfe, sharply.

Reuben, in order to divert the evident chagrin
of Wolfe, for which there was no adequate
cause, mentioned the arrival of Rabbi
Mordecai, his subsequent misfortune, and
the consequent penance. Wolfe was quite E4r 43
indignant, when apprized that a solemn fast
was ordained for the next day, especially as
his constant desire to maintain, among his
brethren, the character of a devout Jew,
would compel him to observe it.

“The clumsy fellow!” he exclaimed; “and
so, because he had not sense enough to carry
the SypharOpen note 5Back to note ⁵ properly, I, who was not near
the place, am to fast for his awkwardness.”

“Certainly, unless you leave this place
early in the morning, Wolfe.”

But Wolfe had no such intention, and
hastened on without reply, and they soon
reached the house of Lydia Myers.

The next day was a gloomy one, until its
close, when, after attending vespers, Lydia’s
exhausted inmates met around her board, to
break their austere fast, and recruit their dejected
spirits. Then Lydia began to comment
on Wolfe’s absence, and question him,
minutely, on the strength of old friendship,
but he returned short answers, and evaded
satisfying her, in a manner that proved he E4v 44
was resolved to guard his secret, whatever
might be its nature.

Rabbi Mordecai left them before breakfast
in the morning, and Wolfe also made
arrangements for quitting Lydia on the next
day. He told Reuben that circumstances
had occurred which tended materially to alter
the route he marked out when they left
home.

“We have been remarkably successful already,”
continued he; “therefore, when we
leave this place, I shall not go forward as
usual, but return homeward, though by a
different road, and then it will enable us to
keep ShevuasOpen note 6Back to note ⁶ in London.”

Reuben was delighted with the proposal.
He hoped, as they went along, to dispose of
his reduced stock, and yearned to see his
dear mother. He asked, meantime, where
they should go that day.

Wolfe replied, that he intended visiting
the Jews in the town; and, after deliberating
a few minutes, said he would advise Reuben E5r 45
“to set out the articles belonging to him to
the best advantage, in their leather trinket
case,—place the list of prices in it,—and go
with it to Turret Cottage.”

“You know the way to it,” added Wolfe;
“send in your case to the lady, no doubt she
will purchase something.”

Reuben thanked his cousin, and immediately
adopted his counsel. Wolfe himself
assisted to arrange the trinkets in an attractive
manner, and alter the prices fixed originally,
somewhat higher, and the young
trader set off for Turret Cottage, to try his
success.

When he reached the gate, the servant was
at it, making some purchases, and readily
agreed to take Reuben’s trinket case to her
lady, if he could wait till she was at liberty.

This was, of course, thankfully accepted
by Reuben, who began to hope for encouragement
from the civility of the servant, which
his experience had taught him was, in general,
indicative of the disposition of their
superiors.

When the servant was at leisure to take
the case, she left Reuben on the lawn; from E5v 46
thence he was soon admitted into the kitchen,
and shortly after the servant returned
with the case quite emptied of its contents,
and containing, in lieu, two bright new
guineas.

The whole of Reuben’s stock did not
amount to much more than one guinea, and
he was not possessed of sufficient change.
When he mentioned this difficulty, the servant
replied, that her mistress required no change,
the whole sum was his own. Reuben was
so surprised at this assertion, and so fearful
of a mistake, that might, eventually, injure
his character, that he was not satisfied until
the servant went to her mistress to inquire if
she really designed to give him so much
more than his due. She returned and assured
him all was right. His simple gratitude
was expressed with animation commensurate
with the pleasure he felt on account of his
dear mother, for whose immediate use he
resolved to appropriate the generous Goya
lady’s present. This, in the openness of his
heart, he told the servant, as, after declining
her pressing invitation to partake some refreshments, E6r 47
she conducted him to the gate
of Turret Cottage.

Wolfe seemed pleased at Reuben’s success,
but made no comment on it; and next day,
the travellers took leave of Lydia, and proceeded
on their journey homeward.

Chapter XII.

The first halt of any consequence made
by Wolfe, as he journeyed homewards, was
at the house of a widow lady of independent
fortune, residing in the vicinity of a beautiful F1r 49
village, about twenty miles from the metropolis.

Wolfe, from the first commencement of
his travelling on that road, had always been
encouraged to call on Mrs. Beaconsfield;
and, to induce him to continue the practice,
she made it an invariable rule to purchase
some of his goods at his annual visits; besides
which, a bed in her house was always
at his service, for a night, or even more, if
circumstances rendered the favour desirable.

This kindness and hospitality displayed by
Mrs. Beaconsfield, towards a poor Jewish
pedlar, was, in those days, an occurrence so
unusual, that Wolfe, had he not been long
aware of her real motive for thus patronising
him, would have been at a loss to account for
it. As it was, however, he affected to encourage
the views of the lady, so far as to
induce a hope, in her truly benevolent mind,
that the labour of love on her part would not
eventually fail, but, at some future period,
produce precious fruit to the glory of God.

Though Wolfe was aware of the source of
Mrs. Beaconsfield’s encouragement of him, he
was entirely unable to appreciate its value. Vol. II.F F1v 50
His carnal mind, wholly set on the things
of this perishing world, was not capable
of discerning the purity and spirituality
of her views, though he had sufficient
cunning to avail himself of the temporal
benefit he derived from them; and to all else
he was in reality indifferent.

Mrs. Beaconsfield was a truly sincere and
spiritual Christian, and had long been a
blessing to the parish she resided in. But
she did not contract her views to a parish, a
town, or even a country. Having tasted that
“the Lord is gracious,” she earnestly desired
to see the glorious Gospel diffuse its unspeakable
blessings from pole to pole; and, not
content with present attainments, or satisfied
to rest in them, she prayed daily and fervently
for that glorious advent when the will
of the Lord shall be done on earth, even as
it is in heaven, and “the kingdoms of this
world become the kingdoms of our Lord and
His Christ.”

In a mind thus devoted to “the truth as it
is in Jesus,” it will be easily imagined the
affecting situation of the ancient people of
God was not forgotten. At that period, however, F2r 51
Mrs. Beaconsfield found but few Christians
so deeply interested for benighted Israel
as she was. Yet she persisted, not only in
praying for their spiritual welfare, but also
in doing acts of kindness to them in temporal
matters, which frequently gave her a favourable
opportunity of speaking to them
freely of Jesus, as the true Messiah. And
though, as yet, she had not, in a single instance,
seen fruit spring from her labours of
love, she continued to persevere, leaving the
event with Him, whose sole prerogative it
is, when His people plant and water, to give
the increase.

Sometimes, when advocating the Jewish
cause, and proving, from sacred writ, the
duty of Gentile Christians to pray for the
peace of Israel, and promote their best interests,
her friends would remind her of the
degradation and moral debasement of the
Jews in general; and to this she invariably
replied:

“We see only the worst parts of them.
We are not intimately acquainted with their
domestic habits. We know and judge them
in the gross; details reach us not, except to F2 [Gap in transcription—2 linesomitted] F2v 52
their disadvantage. But, allowing the plea
of their mental debasement its full force, in
what differs the unrenewed heart whether
Jew or Gentile? Divine grace alone can
heal the corrupt wounds of fallen nature; its
irresistible influence works alike in all hearts,
and not to pray that it may be extended to
this miserable people, because of their misery,
for which it is the true catholicon,
passes my comprehension. No, my dear
friends! let us never forget that we, the
favoured recipients of divine mercy, are nevertheless
but Gentiles, grafted on the rich
native olive;—that the Jews are beloved for
the Father’s sake,—and that all Israel shall
finally be saved in the Lord with an everlasting
salvation. In this view, and I am
sure it is a right one, we will love poor fallen
Israel for Christ’s sake, who has set us the
example; and we will pray for, and do them
good whenever we have an opportunity.”

As Wolfe approached towards Everton
Lodge, the residence of Mrs. Beaconsfield,
he made known to Reuben some particulars
respecting her, according to his views of her
character, which he could not but highly
respect, though he comprehended it not.

F3r 53

“She is not only a valuable customer,”
continued Wolfe, “but a most excellent
Goya,—indeed, the kindest and best I ever
met with. But there is one thing respecting
her that will surprise you, perhaps, because
you have not, in all our travels, met with the
like. You know, Reuben, that the Goyim
we deal with are only anxious to obtain our
goods as cheap as they can. Some hate our
religion and abuse it; but the greater part
are indifferent, and care not what we believe.
We may worship AzazelOpen note 7Back to note ⁷ for what they know,
or are solicitous about. But Mrs. Beaconsfield
is a very different lady. She believes
in the Tola,Open note 8Back to note ⁸ but it is somehow in another
way from the Goyim in general. And she
is fond of the Jews, and anxious to teach
them what she thinks will save them. I do
not know how it is, but she has a manner of
speaking that is very moving, and I have no
heart to contradict what she says, though of F3 F3v 54
course, I do not believe it. But, really, was
I always with her, I cannot answer for what
might happen.”

Mrs. Beaconsfield was at home when the
cousins reached her hospitable gate, and she
received them with her wonted affability.
After making the usual purchases from
Wolfe’s stock, and inquiring respecting his
companion, she asked him several questions,
which he replied to with an easy coolness,
that astonished Reuben, much as he had
lately witnessed of his cousin’s morality.

The questions Mrs. Beaconsfield had addressed
to Wolfe related chiefly to former
conversations she had held with him, and
some books she had given to him. His answers,
though guarded, gave a gleam of hope
that the important subject of salvation by
Christ was not wholly rejected by him, but
that he was inquiring and considering whether
these things were so. The slightest
prospect of such a result affected this excellent
Christian deeply; and she retired to her
closet, to vent her heart’s desire for Israel,
before Him who is Lord of all. On her return,
she addressed herself, in an especial F4r 55
manner, to Reuben, and was much pleased
with the artless simplicity of his reply, though
not in the least favourable to her benevolent
views. He heard her, indeed, with attention
and respect, but to all she said made the
same reply.

“I am a Jew, Madam, and the Jews do
not believe these things; neither may they,
because it would be a great sin.”

When Reuben had, for the third time, answered
Mrs. Beaconsfield in nearly the same
words, Wolfe, vexed with what he inwardly
termed his stupidity, reproved him sharply,
and told him not to keep on one note like a
cuckoo.

Reuben hung his head, abashed at his
cousin’s sarcasm, but Mrs. Beaconsfield encouraged
him, and said she approved of his
honest sincerity. She therefore continued to
open before him, in a simple manner, suited
to his capacity, some of the leading features
of the Gospel, to which he now listened in
silence, afraid of Wolfe’s further observations.
She then took, from a bookcase, a pocket
bible, having the New Testament bound with
it, and presented the holy volume to Reuben, F4v 56
with an earnest request that he would attentively
peruse it, when he returned home.

“You will promise to do so, I hope,” continued
Mrs. Beaconsfield, in an affectionate
tone of voice. “It is your duty, in all that
concerns your immortal spirit, to be convinced
for yourself, and not take religion
upon trust, and persist in being a Jew because
your father was one. I will not urge
you any further on this subject at present;
I perceive it is quite new to you; but I beseech
you to read this precious book seriously,
and may the Divine Author of it open your
eyes to behold in it Him who is the sum and
substance of all revelation!”

Reuben received the book from the hands
of Mrs. Beaconsfield, but with evident reluctance;
nor would he make the promise she
requested of him, except conditionally.
Though Wolfe frowned and made signs to
him, unperceived by the lady, all he could
be induced to say was, that he would shew
the book to his mother and Rabbi Moses,
and, if they allowed him, he would certainly
read it.

Mrs. Beaconsfield admired the ingenuousness F5r 57
of the Jewish boy, and the filial piety
his reply evinced. Such a disposition gave
promise of better things, should the Lord be
pleased to mould it anew; and she desired
both of them to call on her again at any time
they chose, without waiting the annual journey.
Wolfe made a suitable reply for Reuben
and himself, and then took leave, having
declined the kind offer of a bed, for he feared
that Reuben would commit some mistake in
the course of the evening, especially at family
worship, which Wolfe had, in his former
calls at Everton Lodge, never shewn any
reluctance to be present at. But he knew
Reuben would neither dissemble his feelings
nor comply against his conscience; and, to
prevent him from offending so valuable a patroness
as Mrs. Beaconsfield, required the
sacrifice, at this time, of the comforts her
house always afforded him.

At parting Mrs. Beaconsfield gave Reuben
a crown, to purchase something for his
mother, and thereby won much on him; for
he felt inclined to love every one who shewed
the least favour to a parent he idolised. He
cordially joined therefore with Wolfe, in F5v 58
praising her as they journeyed along, and
bore, with patience, the reproaches of his
cousin, who called him a superstitious ignorant
fool, who would never get on in the
world, while he kept up such a cant about
honesty and religion, which was only designed
to keep women and children in subjection.
Reuben, in reply, reminded Wolfe, mildly,
that he talked in a very different strain when
among the Jews, and intreated that he would
cease to discuss a subject on which they
were not likely to agree. This temperate
manner of acting had its due effect on
Wolfe, and he at once acquiesced in his
prudent cousin’s wish, by changing the discourse.

Their next halt was at a farm-house where
Wolfe had an order to deliver; and he hastened
to dispatch his business there, for,
though they were regular customers, they
were remarkably disagreeable ones. They
hated and despised Jews indiscriminately;
and, though in the habit of dealing with
Wolfe, always closely watched all his motions,
lest he might steal something. Yet
they had no reason for such an apprehension; F6r 59
for Wolfe, though a dissimulator, was above
committing a theft. He was however aware
of their thoughts respecting him, and hated
them in proportion. They never exercised
towards him the common rites of hospitality,
nor had he ever been asked by them to rest
himself, though ever so fatigued. Reuben
was not allowed to accompany his cousin,
but remained standing in a corner of the
farm-yard, where two of the boys kept an
eye on him. While thus employed, they
tried to insult the poor Jew boy, by talking
to each other in a manner calculated to annoy
and provoke him; but Reuben had been
too much accustomed to such conduct when
he sold oranges in London to heed them;
and when Wolfe returned, joined him, without
taking the least notice of his ignorant
persecutors.

When they were at a distance, Wolfe
vented his feelings against the farmer and
his family, for their suspicious temper; and
even the mild, gentle Reuben, said they
were the worst Goyim on that road, and
must be dishonest themselves, or they never
could be so suspicious. The travellers, as F6v 60
evening was closing, halted that night at a
village ten miles from town; and, early next
morning quitted it, and reached home in
perfect safety, with lightened valises and
thankful hearts, just two days before the
Feast of Pentecost.

Chapter XIV.

The return of Reuben gladdened the heart
of his affectionate mother, and her worthy
inmate, and they took a deep interest in all
he had seen and been engaged in. When he
mentioned Mrs. Beaconsfield, and shewed to G G1v 62
his mother the book she had given him, Jemima
looked grave.

“I have no fear of trusting you among
Goyim in general,” observed she; “the chief
part of them care little about any religion;
or if they do, are not anxious respecting the
Jews. You therefore run no risk in mixing
casually among them, except that of ill treatment
because you are an Israelite. But this
Goya is of another description. I have heard
that there are, among Goyim, a few of her
way of thinking; I beseech you, my son,
keep from them. Their design is to pervert
your mind, and lead you from the true faith.
Parley not with any such. They are subtle,
and you are too young and ignorant to argue
with them. Even the kindness of Mrs. Beaconsfield
has an ensnaring design in it, and
I would not have you call on her any more.
What is worldly gain, my dearest child, compared
with our holy faith? It would at once
break my heart, and send me sorrowing to
my grave, were those Goyim to corrupt, with
their idolatry, the only treasure of a poor and
lonely widow.”

Jemima had spoken earnestly, because she G2r 63
felt some apprehension lest Reuben, in the
simplicity of his spirit, might, at some future
period, be led away by persons whose tenets,
she firmly believed, would destroy the soul
of her darling boy, if he imbibed them; and,
knowing his devoted love for her, took this
opportunity of declaring her mind on this
important subject with warmth, that the
knowledge of it might act as an interposing
shield in the hour of danger, between the
son of her hopes, and what she termed Nazarene
subtlety.

Reuben was affected, even to tears, by his
mother’s address; and he hastened to assure
her he never would listen to any arguments
the Goyim might offer on the subject of religion.

“I was born a Jew, dear mother,” added
he, “and I will die one; but what shall we
do with this book?”

Leah Marks, who had already expressed
her cordial approval of Jemima’s sentiments,
advised her, on being referred to, to cut out
the New Testament, and burn it forthwith.
The Bible, as she called the Old Testament,
could then be re-bound.

G2 G2v 64

The whole party immediately proceeded
to put this bigoted and benighted proposal
into execution. Leah held the precious volume,
while Jemima cut from it the blessed
record of the adorable Jesus; and Reuben,
eager to evince his contempt of the Goyim
and their crucified God, superintended the
conflagration, until the last inspired leaf had
yielded to the flames. They then rejoiced
over the impious act, firmly believing it to
be a meritorious one, and truly acceptable to
the Holy One of Israel.

This act of bigotry is not without its parallel,
even at the present day. But let not
the heart of the Christian lover of the ancient
people be closed, or his hand paralized,
by such revolting instances. If they be veiled
in the thickest folds of bigotry, there is still
a method by which he may reach their adamantine
hearts. He possesses an irresistible
weapon;—let him pray for them!

When Reuben had completed his recital
of the events of his journey, his mother communicated
some particulars of a visit she had
received, during his absence, (and in which
he was more immediately concerned), that G3r 65
greatly surprised him. The kind-hearted
Jonas Abrahams, of Bristol, having occasion
to come to London on business, had called,
in a very friendly manner, both on Iscah and
Jemima, and had breakfasted with each of
them in turn. He expressed himself as having
been much pleased with Reuben, during
his visit to Bristol, and offered to receive him
into his house, and teach him his business,
on terms both generous and advantageous to
Reuben, if Jemima could make up her mind
to part with him; and had the consideration
to add, that he would wait her final decision
until the period of Wolfe’s autumn journey,
in order to allow sufficient time for deliberation,
between the mother and son and their
mutual friends; nor would he fill up the
place he so freely offered, until he knew the
result of his plan on the minds of those concerned.

Reuben was too sincerely dutiful to offer
his opinion on this subject, so important, if
the offer was accepted, to his future mode of
life, until his mother had declared her will
respecting it. A slight cloud might indeed
be observed to shade his open and expressive G3 G3v 66
brow, at the mere idea of a separation from
her; but it quickly passed off, and in his
heart he resolved to be guided wholly, in
every event of his life, by the parent he loved
and honoured next to God.

Jemima read, in the ingenuous countenance
of her son, what was passing in his
bosom, and hastened to relieve him, by saying
that there was sufficient time to come to
a decision during the summer months, and
she had not, therefore, as yet, given the subject
a serious thought.

At the festival of Shevuas, or Pentecost,
kept in accordance with the command, recorded
in Leviticus xxiii, 15,—21, the synagogue
is ornamented with bouquettes of
choice flowers, and a splendid veil. Flowers
also adorn their private dwellings; and at
this festival the poorer classes aim to appear
in new clothing.

Wolfe enjoyed the coveted distinction of
being one of the favoured few called up to
the Olmemmor, on the first day of the festival,
to read a portion of the law, and he
walked, with a proud aid, to the spot, when
his name was repeated. He owed it not, G4r 67
however, to his personal merit or religious
devotion. It was simply because he had
chosen, partly from ostentatious motives,
and partly from a secret motive, and to
gratify his mother, to present to the synagogue
an elegant pointer for the Olmemmor.
The regular reader of the synagogue,
called by them the Chazzan, holds
this in his hands, and directs, by it, the persons
called up, where to read, and when to
stop. They are of various forms, and comparative
value. The one presented by Wolfe
was composed of coral, exquisitely carved in
the form of a hand, set in a chased gold
handle of curious workmanship, and edged
with pearls.

If Wolfe attracted the notice of his companions
in the synagogue, Iscah shared some
part of it among the women in the latticed
gallery, by the unusual splendour of her appearance.
She had always dressed gaily,
but now, the rich attire she wore was not
only quite above her station, but adorned
with a tasteful elegance, evidently not her
own. Jemima was as much surprised as her
neighbours when she first saw her aunt, not
having been at all aware that she possessed G4v 68
such a dress. In fact, it had been brought
home by Wolfe in a parcel, which, though
Reuben assisted in carrying, he knew not
the nature of.

When the festival was over, Iscah came to
Jemima’s room, to request a favour of her.
It was, that her neice would take care of her
apartment and business for one week. Jemima
was of course greatly surprised, and
inquired of Iscah what she meant.

Iscah made no immediate reply, but, requesting
her neice to come to her room, led
the way. Jemima followed her aunt in a
short time, and found Wolfe with her, having
in his hand an open letter.

“What is the meaning of all this, my good
aunt?” inquired Jemima.

“It means, Jemima, that, in consequence
of a letter Wolfe has received this morning,
we are under the necessity of going for a
week into the country. I am not, at present,
at liberty to give you any further information,
but hope I shall be able when I return.
Meantime, it will be a great favour if you
will take charge of my place. Leah Marks
and Reuben will assist in your room, and I G5r 69
will make you any amends you please.”
Wolfe joined in his mother’s request, and
Jemima, waving the offered reward, agreed
to her aunt’s wish without any farther remark,
though somewhat surprised. She was
not, however, without her conjectures; and,
while assisting her aunt to pack her trunks,
said, after a long silence, and almost involuntarily,
looking anxiously at Iscah.

“You are going to Matilda.”

Iscah was, for a few minutes, greatly agitated,
and did not reply; but soon recovering
herself, she smiled faintly, and said in a caressing
tone,

“Conjecture what you please, my dear
neice; only, for the present, utter not your
thoughts respecting it, even to Leah Marks.
I have strong reasons; rely on me, you shall
have my full confidence, as soon as I am
permitted.”

In the neighbourhood, Wolfe had given
out that he was going to take his mother to
Margate for a few days; and the women in
that quarter praised his filial duty, and envied
Iscah such a son; especially when they
saw her driven away by him in a handsome G5v 70
gig, early the next morning, an event of rare
occurrence in that lane.

Jemima had little time to indulge in surmises
on her aunt’s mysterious proceedings,
having as much business on her hands as
she could well manage. She therefore felt
much chagrined, when on Friday, instead of
her aunt, arrived a letter, informing her she
could not possibly return before that day
week. The letter was written by Wolfe, and
had evidently been sent to London by a private
hand, and forwarded to Jemima by the
penny post. There was, however, no remedy
but patience; and at last the close of another
week brought back the travellers. During
the Sabbath, little was said by any of
the relatives; and when it was over, nothing
could be elicited from Iscah. To her neighbours
she replied vaguely; and when Jemima
made the least allusion to her journey, she
looked sad and perplexed, and hastened to
speak of something else. Wolfe did not appear
in much higher spirits than his mother,
but carefully evaded any question respecting
it. He now began to make preparations for
his summer journey to the sea-side. He had G6r 71
on his return with Reuben, advised Jemima
to buy a licence for him at once; but, when
he heard of Jonas Abraham’s proposal, he
thought it advisable to defer doing so until
autumn, when they might decide, either to
let Reuben accept it, or then set up as a
pedlar.

Jemima could not but discern the propriety
of Wolfe’s counsel; and, though not pleased
with his conduct on his last journey, yet had
sufficient confidence in the integrity of Reuben,
to trust him once more with his cousin.
She gave Reuben, in private, a solemn charge
respecting his conduct, and besought him, on
no account to swerve in the least point from
his religion, and the lessons of morality she
had so early impressed on his mind.

“In the event of Wolfe so acting that
your own honesty would be endangered, by
remaining with him,” concluded his faithful
mother, “leave him instantly, and come home.
My heart is always open to receive you, while
you continue to act as the son of your excellent
father, (peace be with him!) but I hope
Wolfe will not so far forget himself as to occasion
such a step.”

G6v 72

Reuben readily promised strict obedience
to his mother’s commands; and, at the commencement
of the next week, left home, enriched
with her tenderest blessings, in company
with Wolfe, taking the road, in the first
instance, towards Margate.

Chapter XV.

On this journey Reuben was more at his
ease, as it respected religious observances,
than he had been during their previous one.
Wolfe, in his way to Margate, made his resting-places
only among the Jews, and was
therefore, for various reasons, much more
circumspect than heretofore. His chief reason,Vol. II. H H1v 74
however, was a connection he felt deeply
anxious to form, and earnestly desired to accomplish,
if practicable, during his present
journey.

At Canterbury resided a Rabbi, whose only
daughter, Wolfe sought to obtain in marriage.
Her father was a Polish Jew, one of the
most bigoted that country, (celebrated as the
chief nursery of Rabbinical influence and
Jewish superstition), ever produced. At Canterbury,
he filled the place of superintending
Rabbi, subordinate to the presiding one in
the metropolis, and was also the Schochet, or
slaughterer of the food for the community;
though this part of his duty was mostly delegated
to a poor, but very learned man, also
a Pole, while Rabbi Solomon Meyer devoted
himself, with all the powers of a naturally
strong mind, to Talmudic and Cabalistic
studies. Of the latter mysterious species of
reverie, especially, he was passionately fond.
He also enlarged his income, in employing
his leisure hours by writing scrolls for religious
uses, in that exquisite manner in which
Polish Jews so greatly excel. For these
scrolls he could command his own price; and H2r 75
the beauty of his Hebrew characters was
surprising, to those who were aware that his
only instrument was an ill-shaped piece of
common wood.

The wife of Rabbi Meyer had been dead
some years, and in consequence, his daughter
Rosetta had been extremely neglected, as far
as mental cultivation was concerned. Her
father, absorbed in his studies, paid little attention
to her, and indeed thought, in common
with many of his nation, that the wisdom
of a woman lies in her distaff. An old
widow, who lived with them as housekeeper,
having under her a Gentile servant, taught
Rosetta all she knew of needle-work and
reading, for her father was too bigoted to
allow of her going to a Christian school, and
there was not one for Jewish girls at Canterbury.
The same instructress also taught her
the observances incumbent on Jewish females,
and Rabbi Meyer was content. Thus neglected,
it was no wonder Rosetta was vain,
ignorant, and full of levity. Her temper,
nevertheless, was good, and her disposition
affectionate and charitable; and, in personal
loveliness, few of her nation surpassed her.

H2 H2v 76

Her beauty, however, was of a sparkling, vivacious
description, and it was easy to perceive
that she was fully conscious of her attractions,
and proud of them.

To this lovely young Jewess, Wolfe had
long aspired, though, hitherto, unknown to
Rabbi Meyer, and loved her as sincerely as
his mercenary nature allowed of. No doubt,
however, his affection was not lessened by
the knowledge that Rosetta had a portion of
two hundred pounds, independent of her father,
which had been left to her when very
young by an aunt, and had of course accumulated.

Aware that his station in life was below
what Rabbi Meyer would naturally expect
for his daughter, Wolfe, while he sought
every opportunity of ingratiating himself with
Rosetta, during his annual visits, by presenting
her with trinkets, of which she was extremely
fond, also sought to please Rabbi
Meyer, by procuring for him curious MSS. of
cabalistic characters, and scarce pieces of
Jewish literature; and, as he was engaging
in his person and manners, and could, when
he pleased, assume and appearance of peculiar H3r 77
devotion to religion, he was equally a favourite
with Rosetta and her father, (who, in
general, thought very lightly of English
Jews, and when he spoke of them, said
Wolfe Levy was an exception), and they always
considered him as their especial guest
during the month, in every year, that he was
accustomed to pass at Canterbury, and its
immediate vicinity.

This time, Wolfe brought with him some
presents, which he was assured would be
highly acceptable, both to Rabbi Meyer and
his daughter. For Rosetta, he had procured
some showy and curious ornaments, consisting
of a bandeau, necklace, and bracelets,
which he had bartered for with a French
Jew, from whom he had also procured a dress
of silk, which was not of less value in his
opinion, for being contraband.

Rosetta was almost wild with joy, when
Wolfe displayed his gifts, and declared her
acceptance of them would confer on him a
real obligation. While gratified vanity elated
her heart, Wolfe embraced the favourable
opportunity of urging his suit, offering, in
the event of her compliance, to open a H3 H3v 78
jeweller’s shop in any place she should chuse,
when it would be his pride and pleasure to
deck her with ornaments worthy of her
beauty.

Rosetta yielded, with facility, to temptation
so suited to her inclination, and Wolfe
gained her consent to apply to her father
much easier than he had dared to hope.
Fearing, however, that Rabbi Meyer might
be more difficult to manage than his gay
daughter, he felt desirous of ascertaining
what he had to expect from her, if her father
was averse from his proposal. He therefore
endeavoured to obtain her promise to allow
of a private marriage, should that be the
case; and explained to her that this method,
so very easy of accomplishment, in the event
of opposition, among the Jews, is as strictly
legal, though not so honourable, as a marriage
beneath the nuptial canopy, which,
after all, was not the original mode of marriage
in ancient times.Open note 9Back to note ⁹

H4r 79

In this part of his suit, however, Wolfe did
not succeed. Rosetta loved her father, and
would not promise to disobey him; besides
which, she added, that it would be time
enough to consider what they would do when
her father had given his answer; and this
was all the reply Wolfe could obtain.

The parcel that Wolfe now proceeded to
deliver to Rabbi Meyer was even more valuable
than that presented to his beautiful
daughter. It consisted of a curious Kamia,
or Talisman, written by that celebrated cabalist,
Rabbi Jonathan of Prague. This
unique piece was undoubtedly genuine, and
possessed the power of preserving its wearer
from all perils by sea and land, when journeying.
The autograph of the Rabbi was
annexed to it. Nor was this precious relic H4v 80
the whole of Wolfe’s gift. There was also a
curious MS. of Jewish judicial astrology,
containing every question necessary for all
the common transactions of life, and their
answers. To obtain the latter, mathematical
knowledge was required, for they were demonstrated
in the manner of Euclid’s problems,
and the replies were sure to be correct,
if the problems were worked aright. In addition
to these MSS. was a chalaf, such as
no Jewish Schochet had ever yet possessed.
Its exquisite temper, indeed, was not more
than they, of necessity, possessed in common,
but the handle was of gold, most superbly
chased, and inlaid with pearls, emeralds,
and garnets, to form the crest and
cypher of Rabbi Solomon Meyer.

The crafty Wolfe had expended a sum he
had received from a secret quarter, for a very
different purpose, in procuring these rarities;
and he had reason to congratulate himself on
the success of his subtle speculations. The
Rabbi, enchanted by the specious conduct of
Wolfe, and having a high opinion of his religious
principles, suffered Rosetta to be formally
contracted to him, in the customary H5r 81
manner, after writing to Iscah for her approval,
which was expressed in the most flattering
terms, in a letter written by Jemima,
in her aunt’s name.

The contract, signed by Wolfe and Rosetta,
bound the young couple, under a penalty
specified, to complete the marriage in six
months from its date; only stipulating that
Wolfe should commence business in the way
he had proposed, before he claimed his bride,
or her portion. The place of residence was
left entirely to his choice, as most competent
to judge where he was likely to succeed.

Thus far successful, Wolfe continued his
journey, though still making Canterbury his
head quarters. Reuben had been most kindly
received by Rabbi Meyer and Rosetta, and
soon became a great favourite with each of
them. They admired the artless simplicity
of his character, and the deep filial affection,
mingled with reverence, he expressed for his
mother. Besides which, he had a peculiar
claim on the Rabbi’s notice, because he was
the son of a Polish Jew,—a great recommendation
to his notice. Indeed, his chief regret
respecting Wolfe was, not that he was not H5v 82
of an eminent family, or opulent, but that he
was an English Jew, both by birth and descent.

“He cannot help it,” the Rabbi would
sometimes observe to Rosetta, “and I believe
he is one of the worthiest fellows among
them; but if you want a true Israelite, faithful
to his creed, you must seek him in Poland.
I wish, at any rate, Wolfe had Polish
blood in his veins.”

“But, dear father,” replied Rosetta, who
had none of the Rabbi’s bigotry, “Wolfe is
uncommonly strict in every thing that belongs
to religion.”

“True!” answered Rabbi Meyer. “He
is a good Jew, I believe, but I wish he was
also a Pole.”

This wish, not at all flattering to Wolfe’s
personal vanity, nor in accordance with his
real sentiments, for he was proud of being an
Englishman, was sometimes expressed in
his presence; but he was such an adept in
the art of dissembling his feelings, that he
merely smiled at such times, or affected to
join in the narrow-minded wish, which H6r 83
placed religion and virtue rather in the climate
than in the heart.

Reuben was more than ever at a loss to
understand Wolfe, while they were at Canterbury.
He noticed, however, his hypocritical
conduct, in respect to religion, with a
feeling of contempt; and, when he heard
him converse with Rabbi Meyer respecting
his journies, and the deprivation he suffered
on account of his religion in some places, he
could hardly suppress his indignation, or
forbear contradicting him; and it needed all
his prudence, at such times, to listen in silence.
Nevertheless, the deceptive conduct
of Wolfe was not without a beneficial effect
on the mind of his young cousin; for so
odious did Reuben consider it, that he more
than ever resolved to act honestly, and with
singleness of heart, in all his dealings, not
only for his mother’s sake, and in honour of
his father’s memory, but because moral integrity
seemed to acquire a beauty far more
transcendant, when viewed in contrast with
Wolfe’s degrading falsehoods.

Such were Reuben’s sentiments and resolutions,
as, accompanied by his cousin, H6v 84
they took the nearest road to Margate, to
which place they carried recommendatory
letters from Rabbi Meyer, to the few Jewish
families residing there.

Chapter XVI.

The travellers were more than usually successful
in the sale of their goods at Margate,
and Ramsgate; so that Reuben felt as happy
as he could do, separate from his mother.
Wolfe also gratified him much by the fairness
of his dealings. The private valise, Vol. II.I I1v 86
filled with glittering trash, though it retained
its place among their luggage, was never
opened during their stay; and Reuben began
to hope that Wolfe, now he was an engaged
man, would become an honest one, for
the sake of Rosetta. He ventured to hint
this to his cousin, when he was particularly
elevated by the encouragement they met
with, but Wolfe replied only by a derisive
smile.

To the Jews at both Margate and Ramsgate,
who, at that time, had to send to Canterbury
for their meat, Wolfe was a most
welcome guest. The letters of Rabbi Meyer
certified his intended son-in-law to be duly
qualified as a Schochet, and his chalaf was
in constant requisition during his stay. For
this essential service he would not accept of
pecuniary remuneration; his brethren, therefore,
insisted on receiving him and Reuben
as guests, during their stay, and treated them
with all the warmth of genuine Jewish hospitality.

Wolfe had occasion to make an excursion
to Dover, having some customers in and near
it. He purposed staying there nearly a I2r 87
week; but, having only one light valise to
carry, he left Reuben with these kind friends
until his return, thinking it unnecessary to
fatigue him, where no profit awaited his exertions;
for Reuben had few goods left, and
those not adapted to that market.

Reuben, who had never before been so
near the full sea, spent the chief part of his
time in rambling on the cliffs at Margate,
whence he could best discern that majestic
element. Sometimes, when the tide was out,
he wandered on the sands, and round the
rocks, even to Ramsgate, collecting pebbles
and shells to ornament his mother’s mantlepiece.
One day, while thus employed in
filling a little straw basket, intended as a
present to her by Wolfe, who had purchased
it for that purpose, two ladies advanced towards
him. The path round the rocks was
narrow at that spot, and Reuben, hastening
to remove his basket, respectfully touched
his hat, and stood up close, to allow of their
passing.

This act of civility, on the part of Reuben,
appeared to attract the notice of the elder
lady, on whose arm her young companion, I2 I2v 88
evidently an invalid, rested, and she turned
her head, as she passed, to look on him. A
single glance was sufficient to enable her to
recognise the Jewish boy. She hastily whispered
something to her companion, and then
said, in a tone indicative of surprise,

“Surely your name is Reuben Hart.
What are you doing here, and where is your
cousin Wolfe Levy?”

Reuben was both vexed and surprised,
when he, in his turn, surveyed the elder lady
attentively. It was Mrs. Beaconsfield who
thus accosted him;—he recollected what his
mother had said respecting her, and the use
they had made of her present, and earnestly
wished her far away.

Mrs. Beaconsfield, who had kindly undertaken
to accompany her invalid friend to
Margate, for the benefit of warm sea bathing,
was ever on the alert to be useful to the spiritual
interests of all who came in her way;
she therefore stopped to converse with this
interesting Jewish boy, and invite him to call
on her in Cecil Square, where she was staying.
Reuben answered, as briefly as he
could with propriety, her inquiries respecting I3r 89
the temporal affairs of himself and Wolfe;
and she then asked if his mother had given
him leave to read the Testament annexed to
the Bible he had received from her.

Reuben coloured deeply at this question,
though he had anticipated it, from the moment
he recognised Mrs. Beaconsfield, but
he made no immediate reply.

The evident agitation, and raised complexion
of Reuben, on so simple a question,
struck Mrs. Beaconsfield as something very
extraordinary, and, after a little consideration,
she said to him, kindly,

“I am afraid your mother, or perhaps
your Rabbi, would not allow you to read it;
if so, be not afraid to acknowledge it.”

“I did not shew it to my Rabbi, Madam,”
replied Reuben, in a low tone of voice; “it
was my dear mother who forbid me.”

“What have you done with the precious
volume, and where is it now?” inquired Mrs.
Beaconsfield, fixing on him a penetrating
look, as his crimson features seemed to assume
a still deeper dye.

There was no evading a demand so direct.
Wolfe, indeed, would easily have answered I3 I3v 90
with more regard to Mrs. Beaconsfield’s
wishes than the truth, but Reuben could not
do this. He therefore, though with a downcast
eye and faltering voice, at once acknowledged
that they had burned that part containing
the New Testament.

The excellent Christian was much shocked
at this avowal of bigotry so deep seated, yet
could not help being affected by the ingenuousness
of the Jewish boy, and his evident
love of truth, which obliged him, at the risk
of offending a valuable customer, to declare,
at once, a fact it was so much his interest to
conceal.

“What a beautiful instance of genuine
integrity!” said she, apart of her young
friend; “yet the highest moral virtue, held
separate from Jesus, is but a glittering sin.
Nevertheless, some Christians might receive
a profitable lesson from the straight-forward
conduct of this poor Jew. I really feel
greatly interested for him.”

This faithful friend of benighted Israel
then addressed Reuben, gravely, but with
tenderness, and represented to him the enormity I4r 91
of the offence he had been guilty of,
though he discerned it not.

“Alas!” continued she, much affected,
“the same awful spirit of impiety that flamed
in the bosoms of your deluded ancestors,
when they rejected the Lord of life and
glory, prompted you to destroy the holy record
of redeeming love. And you, like them,
think it a meritorious act. May the Holy
One of Israel have compassion on you, open
your eyes, and change your heart!”

Notwithstanding the prejudices of Reuben
against Mrs. Beaconsfield, he was greatly
moved by the manner of her address, and his
feelings convinced him how rightly his mother
had estimated the dangerous influence
such Goyim possessed, over those who listened
to them. This conviction, added to
his reverence for Jemima’s injunction, determined
him to avoid all intercourse with her
in future.

Mrs. Beaconsfield saw, in the varying expression
of Reuben’s countenance, that he
possessed sensibility, and that he was touched
by what she had said. She had no idea
of the inward workings of his heart, and the I4v 92
more than Egyptian darkness, national antipathy,
and maternal influence, had cast over
it. She therefore kindly requested him
to call on her in Cecil Square as soon as he
could, with his trinket case, that she might
make some purchases.

Now that Reuben had avowed, ingenuously,
the manner in which the Testament
had been disposed of, he felt little farther
embarassment, and therefore, at once, and
with great plainness, though with the utmost
respect, made known to Mrs. Beaconsfield
all his mother had said respecting her, and
the charge she had given him. Then, without
awaiting her reply, he bowed very low to
both ladies, and, hastening round the rocks
in a contrary direction, was soon out of view.

From this time, until the return of Wolfe,
Reuben never ventured from the house, lest
he should again encounter Mrs. Beaconsfield,
so that his time passed heavily, and the restraint
he endured added to his previous dislike
to the Goyim.

When Wolfe made his appearance, and
became acquainted with what had taken
place during his absence, he was enraged at I5r 93
conduct he termed folly and obstinacy, and
which might forfeit the future favours of so
valuable a customer. He was aware, however,
of the inutility of reasoning with Reuben
on any point Jemima had enforced, he
therefore made little comment on what had
passed, and hastened to Cecil Square, to
see, and, if possible, appease the displeasure
he made no doubt Mrs. Beaconsfield certainly
felt on the occasion.

Mrs. Beaconsfield was at home when
Wolfe reached her house, and readily admitted
him. She behaved in her usual benign
manner, and assured him, on his commencing
an elaborate apology, that it was
quite unnecessary. Compassion was the
only sentiment a Christian could feel in this
case, and she thought Reuben one of the
most interesting Jewish youths she had ever
met with. She concluded by desiring Wolfe
to consider himself on the same footing with
her as he had hitherto been, and actually
made more liberal purchases of him that
very morning.

Conduct such as this affected even the I5v 94
worldly minded and mercenary Wolfe, and
extorted his involuntary admiration.

“If all Goyim were like her,” said he to
himself, as he returned home, “it would be
an honour to belong to them!”

Nor did the truly Christian love, sympathy,
and forbearance of Mrs. Beaconsfield,
end in the mere production of a temporary
admiration. It was ordained, in the wisdom
of providence, at no very distant period, to
have a beneficial and momentous influence
on a member of the very family for whom
she evinced so much kindness.

A few days previous to the ninth day of
Auv, when the Jews observe what they term
the black fast, and which is commemorative
of the final destruction of Jerusalem by the
Romans under Titus, Wolfe returned, with
his cousin, to Rabbi Meyer’s house at Canterbury,
where he intended making a short
stay with his affianced bride, before he journeyed
homewards.

The next day after this rigorous fast
brought a country letter to Wolfe. It seemed
from the various post marks on it, to have
come a long and circuitous route, and he retired I6r 95
to his chamber to read it. Reuben was
there at the time, and could not but observe
that the letter appeared to contain intelligence
of an unexpected and painful nature,
which greatly agitated his cousin. At length
he ventured, timidly, to express a hope that
nothing very bad had happened among their
friends.

It was some time before the extraordinary
emotion of Wolfe had so far subsided as to
allow of his replying to Reuben, with any
thing like composure. At last, in a manner
much more affectionate than he had displayed
towards him for some time, he said,

“My dear Reuben, this letter contains intelligence
that annoys me very much. You
shall see it, but not until we leave here. I
wish its contents, at present, to be a profound
secret. I have, indeed, no doubt of your fidelity
to me, but you are so naturally frank,
that I should be in danger from your manner,
though not from your words, and Rabbi
Meyer and Rosetta must not know the affair
at present.”

“Tell me only that my mother is well,”
said Reuben anxiously.

I6v 96

“I hope and believe she is,” replied Wolfe,
“but this letter is not either from or respecting
her, I assure you.”

This assurance satisfied Reuben, and
Wolfe made no further allusion to the subject
while they remained at Canterbury.

After a fortnight’s stay, during which the
cousins were allowed to escort Rosetta on
several pleasant excursions, which Reuben
greatly enjoyed, though Wolfe frequently,
when unobserved by Rosetta of her father,
seemed melancholy and abstracted, they
took leave, intending to proceed to town. It
had been previously decided that Wolfe
should return, to spend the approaching
holidays with Rabbi Meyer, and that his
marriage should be celebrated at their close.

Both Rosetta and her father were desirous
of Iscah’s presence on the occasion; and
Rabbi Meyer added his wish that she would
consent to reside with her son, as he considered
Rosetta too inexperienced to manage
her husband’s household advantageously.
Wolfe had never ventured to propose this
matter, but he was delighted by a request so
considerate, and, after expressing his sense K1r 97
of it in very grateful terms, assured Rabbi
Meyer of his dear mother’s joyful acquiescence.

Reuben was also included in the nuptial
invitation, but referred his compliance wholly
to Jemima’s decision, and all parties separated
on terms of cordial affection, heightened
by the pleasing anticipation of future happiness.

Chapter XVII.

Rochester was the first town at which
Wolfe, on his way homeward, had any orders
to deliver. There he intended stopping at
least two days. His cheap goods, suitable
either to casual or village customers, had
been previously disposed of in the environs
of Margate, he therefore proceeded at once K2r 99
to Rochester by the stage, and Rosetta insisted
on paying Reuben’s share of the expense,
that he might not diminish his little
store.

The journey, though short, was a very disagreeable
one. Some of the outside passengers
were low, ignorant persons, who proved
their deficiency in religious knowledge, by
grossly insulting their Jewish fellow travellers.
Reuben bore their low taunts with imperturbable
patience, and they were soon
wearied of hunting one from whom they
could not, by any endeavour, elicit a single
reply. Not so, however, Wolfe; he returned
insult by abuse, and could hardly be restrained
from assaulting his brutal assailants. The
interference of a gentleman in the coach alone
prevented the disgraceful contest, for both
parties had alighted, during a change of
horses, with the avowed determination to
decide their quarrel in a manual encounter.
Nevertheless, prudence got the better of passion,
as soon as Wolfe understood, from the
coachman, that the gentleman who had desired
all parties to desist, and keep the peace,
was a Kentish magistrate. He immediately K2 K2v 100
resumed his seat on the roof, and took no
further notice of his persecutors, except by
muttering half audible execrations against
the whole Gentile race.

Reuben rejoiced when the coach set down
Wolfe and himself at Rochester. He had,
very frequently, in former times, been insulted
by Goyim, and, from habit, generally expected
it; but abuse so unprovoked and violent
he had never before been subjected to,
and the bitter prejudice he already entertained
towards Christians was greatly deepened
on this occasion, and indelibly impressed
on his heart soon after, by the communications
and comments of Wolfe Levy.

The business that brought the cousins to Rochester
occupied them fully until the next day.
On the evening of it, Wolfe retired with
Reuben early to his room, in the small ale-
house they put up at, wishing, as he said, to
have some private conversation with his cousin.
He commenced what he had to say by
uttering fearful imprecations against Christians
in general; and Reuben, though sharing
his hatred of them to its fullest extent,
was shocked to hear the expressions he used. K3r 101
After a time, however, having vented his passion,
he grew calmer, and, taking the letter
he had received at Canterbury from its case,
placed it in Reuben’s hands.

“Read it, cousin Reuben,” said he, in a
melancholy tone. “It is from my sister
Matilda. I shall shew it to your mother
when we return home, but at present mine
must not know its contents. Remember,
therefore, that I am confiding in you, and be
faithful to your trust.”

“Rely upon me, dear Wolfe,” replied
Reuben, touched by the sadness that now
stole over features so lately glowing with the
excitement of unhallowed passions. “Any
secret shared by my mother is safe with me.”

Wolfe made no other reply than by motioning
to him to read the letter, and he immediately
unfolded it, and proceeded to comply
with his cousin’s wish. It was a long
epistle, closely written on all sides, and in
the cover, besides being crossed, which made
it very difficult to decypher, but Reuben at
length accomplished it, by persevering attention;
its contents were as follows:

K3 K3v 102 “Turret Cottage, --07-20July 20th. My dear brother Wolfe, You are, in some measure, prepared
for the contents of this melancholy
letter, by that I forwarded to you last week;
besides the fears I expressed to you when
our honoured mother came to visit me in
your company. Oh Wolfe! he has left me,
—we are separated for ever. After all that
has passed, could you have believed it?
Fool that I was, to put any confidence in the
most solemn promises of a Goy, or expect
truth, honour, or even common justice, from
a Christian! My head is distracted. My
heart is bewildered, and it is broken!—
yes, Wolfe, it is broken! I cannot survive
long the disappointment I have encountered;
but oh! keep it from my mother.
She, beloved creature, has shared my
hopes, my transient prosperity, but I conjure
you, Wolfe, let her not even guess at their
utter extinction, or the agony my heart now
writhes under. But what means these exclamations?
You will say, what has occured to call forth K4r 103
expressions so vehement? I will endeavour,
if possible, to state particulars with minuteness,
if I can. And it is highly necessary
that I should, for I want your advice and
assistance. But oh, Wolfe, Wolfe, my heart
is bursting! I must come to particulars. Let me refer
to old times. You know, Wolfe, that
though I loved Captain Allenby, from the
time he paid me such marked attentions,
when I was employed in embroidering his
court dress, I concealed my feelings even
from my mother, and let them prey on my
heart. I had then no hope; I was a despised
Jewess. I could not expect my mother’s approval,
yet resolved to take no step that
should make her unhappy. Besides which,
though William Allenby talked much of love,
he mentioned not marriage. You know all this now, dearest Wolfe,
though, at the time, you suspected it not.
You are now also aware how my beloved mother
won my full confidence, and how generously
she acted,—so generously, as no other
Jewish parent would have done. And oh!
Wolfe, you have been told how this angel of
a mother acted when Captain Allenby, finding K4v 104
he could only obtain me on honourable
terms, proposed a private marriage, because
of his guardian and his proud mother, promising
to acknowledge me publicly when of
age. All this our angelic mother made
known to you. And you was present at our
marriage, six weeks after I left home for
Clara’s lodgings, with whom, as you know,
I remained until I became a wife. I must
lay down my pen,—my brain is on fire! You will think me mad! Alas! I am at
times nearly so. But I will be calm, till I
have told you all. Be still, my throbbing
heart! I can only remind you how happy I was
when you came to me here. Nothing could
exceed my husband’s tenderness. But I
must not dwell on these recollections. You
know the interesting event that brought my
dear mother to me, and its result. But you
know not, nor can you imagine, Allenby’s
grief and disappointment at the overthrow of
his hopes. Alas! had my precious infant
survived, perhaps I had not now been a
broken-hearted, forsaken, wretch. Yet I
feared,—but you remember my words. From K5r 105
that period, Wolfe, I date my misery. He
continued, indeed, to behave as usual, but he
received letters that appeared to agitate him,
though he would not disclose their contents
to me; and, a few days ago, after receiving a
very long one, he told me business of great
moment called him from me, and would detain
him some time. My heart sunk within me
as he made this communication, yet why I
knew not. I had not the most distant suspicion
of the truth. How could I? Grief
at the indefinite time of my separation from
a husband so beloved was the predominant
feeling of my heart. He appeared to share
my sorrow. Oh, the treacherous Goy! They
dare to accuse our nation of guile, but where
is the Jew who could thus basely desert his
wife? No, such deception is reserved for
Goyim;—but I wander strangely. I will not tell you how the false one
parted with me, Oh that I could blot him,
and all that concerns him, from my memory
for ever! The day after his departure I was
sitting alone, and thinking over the past happiness
I had enjoyed, when a visiter was announced.
This was an event so unusual, K5v 106
that I was much surprised to see a lady follow
my servant, so closely, as to preclude any
possibility of my declining to receive her. Oh! Wolfe, I had intended to detail,
minutely, every particular of this terrible interview,
but I find I am not able. My heart
bleeds at every pore as I think of it. Let me
be brief, in a recital that wrings every nerve
with agony. Wolfe, my dear, dear brother, my visiter
was the mother of Captain Allenby! True!
and she came from him,—yes, Wolfe, from
him,—my husband! Her savage errand, to
separate us. At first, I resented her interference,
asserted my rights as his lawful
wife, (for so I then thought myself, and so I
still am, in the sight of God), and treated her
assertions with contempt. She heard me
calmly, and then, with an air of dignity, requested
to be heard in her turn. I know not
how it was, Wolfe, but there was something
in the manner of this Goya that almost awed
me, and, though with a throbbing heart, I
suffered her to proceed uninterruptedly, as
long as she chose. I cannot, cannot give particulars. I must K6r 107
reserve them till I see you, Wolfe. Only
thus far,—our marriage, they say, is not a legal
one! I am a Jewess,—at least have not
embraced Christianity, that heart-hardening
creed! Allenby is a minor,—already his
guardian has taken steps to dissolve our
union,—and oh, Wolfe! Allenby consents
freely to these proceedings. At first I
thought she invented this assertion, but she
gave me a letter from him,—such a letter!
dated too, soon after he left me, affecting to
feel so deeply the separation. I cannot even
touch on its contents, but you shall see this
hated proof of consummate perfidy. Hasten to me, Wolfe, as soon as you can,
without alarming our beloved mother. The
arrow is in my heart,—the wound is incurable,
—I never can recover it, nor do I wish.
To me the angel of death will be a welcome
messenger. This house is mine, I believe, until October,
but I long to quit it. Hasten, then,
my brother; I rely on your kindness, your
friendship; you will not forsake me, for you
are not a Gentile. They think I ought not to complain, because K6v 108
they have arranged pecuniary settlements.
How little do they comprehend the
despised Jewess, when they think to make
her amends with money! His love was the
only treasure I valued; for that I left my
home,—though poor, yet happy home! For
that I left my beloved mother,—my relatives,
my people,—and I am rewarded as all may
expect to be, who put their trust in Goyim! I can write no more, Wolfe. Oh hasten
to me, while yet I retain the powers of memory,
for there are times when my brain
maddens,—my blood fevers,—my soul is in
tumults,—and I am tempted——! Oh Wolfe! come to your wretched sister, Matilda Allenby.”

Reuben did not complete the perusal of
this letter, wild and incoherent as it was,
without many interruptions, from the tears
his cousin’s distress extorted from him.
When he had read it, he shared Wolfe’s
feelings of indignation at the cruelty Matilda
had experienced, and eagerly asked
how he meant to proceed.

“I hardly know, at present,” replied Wolfe, L1r 109
“how to act. 1I must go, as soon as possible,
to poor Matilda, and I have written to that
effect. I thought at first to consult a lawyer,
but I am fearful it will be of little avail.
These Goyim no doubt know that they have
the law on their side.”

The cousins sat up long past midnight
discussing the sad event; and Wolfe told
Reuben that his visit, when he left him with
Lydia, was to his sister, who felt anxious to
see Reuben also, but Wolfe could not oblige
her, because his cousin could not be induced
to keep their secret.

“But she did see you, though unseen by
you, when you called at Turret Cottage,”
added Wolfe, “and she would have given
you a more liberal present, only she feared
to excite suspicion. It was from her I
brought my mother’s satin dress, that was so
much spoken of and envied; and she presented
the pointer to the synagogue, through
me, meaning it as an offering to atone for
her neglect of the Sabbath, and eating Gentile
food. But, to do the villainous Goy justice,
he did not require this of her, only she Vol. II. L L1v 110
was fearful of offending him by being too
strict.”

Reuben’s feelings were too deeply excited
to allow of sleep, nor was Wolfe more composed;
they retired to bed, however, and perhaps,
on no occasion, were two hearts more
embittered against their species, than were
these Jews against the whole Christian community.

Chapter XVIII.

From Rochester the cousins proceeded to
Gravesend, though not in a direct way, on
account of the various calls Wolfe had to
make. By the time they reached that spot, L2 L2v 112
the few articles pertaining to Reuben were
completely disposed of, to his great joy, and
the cousins secured their places in the Gravesend
packet, as Wolfe was now anxious to get
home, and a conveyance by water was the
cheapest mode.

As soon as the tide permitted, which was
not till the evening, Wolfe and Reuben went
on board the packet, and, favoured with a
fresh wind, were landed at the tower very
early in the morning. As it was too soon to
think of disturbing Iscah and Jemima, Wolfe
proposed that they should breakfast at a house
by the waterside, which was open at that
early hour to accommodate the watermen.
It was somewhat after six when the cousins
proceeded homewards. Wolfe was sad at
heart, as the thought of Matilda, and the
grief in store for his mother, powerfully pervaded
his mind; but Reuben, though he felt
for his cousin, was elated by the joyful anticipation
of seeing his mother, and presenting
to her his earnings.

With feelings thus contrasted, the cousins
passed along the Minories and even down
part of Whitechapel, without meeting any L3r 113
person they knew. At last they reached the
entrance of the lane, endeared to them, dirty
and miserable as it was, by the powerful influence
of the magic word,—“home”!

On turning down the lane, the cousins
were at once surprised and alarmed at the
spectacle that presented itself to their view.
Early as was the hour, the foot-path was
crowded, and in the centre of the roadway
several fire-engines were ranged, the nearest
of which continued playing on the still smoking
ruins!

Wolfe and Reuben, actuated by the same
impulse towards their mothers, and terror-
struck at the idea of what might have happened
to these beloved relatives, stopped not
to make inquiries, but rushed through the
crowd to the spot to which the engine was
now directed. The devouring element had
consumed four houses, before its progress was
arrested. Those inhabited by Iscah and Jemima
were among the number, and the home
so fondly anticipated as a harbour of peace
and rest, after a wearisome journey, existed
no longer.

Wolfe stood a moment, contemplating this L3v 114
afflictive scene, when his eye caught the
pitying glance of Rabbi Moses. With quivering
lips, a cheek blanched with terror,
and eyes glaring wildly, he exclaimed,

“My mother! oh! tell me, is my mother
safe?”

Reuben, pale as death, and his mouth
parched by the agony of his feelings, expressed,
by his looks, the same question, but was
wholly unable to articulate it.

The compassionate Rabbi hastened to administer
comfort to their agitated hearts.

“Iscah and Jemima are safe,” said he,
kindly; “the blessed and holy One has seen
fit to spare my house, follow me to it, and
you shall know more.”

A gush of tears from each, at these good
tidings, relieved the powerfully excited feelings
of filial apprehension. In broken accents,
the cousins breathed their grateful
sense of the Divine goodness, in sparing lives
so precious, and followed the hospitable
Rabbi to his dwelling.

There they were informed that the fire
broke out about midnight, amidst the inhabitants
of the crowded houses, there being, L4r 115
in most of them, a separate family on each
floor, who were roused from their slumbers
by the terrific element, and had only just
time to escape, so rapidly did the flames
spread. The quantity of oil in Iscah’s apartment
heightened the fury of the devastating
element; and that so few houses were burnt,
and no lives lost, greatly alleviated the calamity,
and was looked on as almost a miracle.

“The sufferers were distributed among us,”
continued the amiable Rabbi. “I went
round this morning to ascertain if any were
missing. Praised be the God of Israel, who
neither slumbers nor sleeps, all are safe.
Even poor Leah Marks, who has kept her
bed for the last three weeks, was carried out
almost unhurt.”

“And our dear mothers, good Rabbi,
where shall we find them?” said Wolfe, anxiously.

“Under this roof,” replied the Rabbi. “I
hope they are still reposing, after a calamity
so appalling. At breakfast, you shall see
them; meanwhile, recollect it is more than
time for the morning prayer.”

Thus admonished, the cousins drew forth L4v 116
their phylacteries, and soon all three were
engaged in their devotions, while Livia, the
Rabbi’s wife, went to prepare the minds of
Iscah and Jemima to meet their children.

The interview was, under existing circumstances,
an affecting one. Iscah wept bitterly,
as she threw herself into the arms of
Wolfe, whose tender soothings, however,
soon dispelled her tears; and Jemima held
her darling boy long and close in her embrace,
ere composure was restored among
them.

The temporal and immediate need of the
houseless sufferers in this sad calamity met
with the usual prompt and practical attention
of Jewish benevolence and active sympathy,
as soon as it became known.

The wardens of the different synagogues,
and heads of wealthy families, or persons deputed
by them, were in the lane early next
morning; and, by the close of evening, all
who were involved in this sudden and affecting
event were distributed in the houses of
their affluent brethren, until means could be
devised to assist the sufferers more effectually; L5r 117
for which end, an immediate subscription
was proposed and entered on.

Iscah and her son were, for the present,
received beneath the princely roof of the
then celebrated Abraham Goldsmid, who
possessed not only a munificent spirit, but
also an heart to which distress never appealed
in vain. He has passed from the
land of the living, but gratitude has erected
a noble cenotaph to his memory in many
bosoms. Christian reader! are you affluent?
Copy this bright example. In acts of beneficence
it is your privilege, through grace, to
excel. This Jewish philanthropist discerned
not the true fountain of all acts of charity.
But you are favoured to know that the name,
person, and performance of Jesus can alone
render our labours of love acceptable, and
gain them acceptance in the sight of Him
we worship in these acts. Therefore, when
thus engaged, let us remember to do all in
love, simplicity, and with single hearts, in
the all prevailing name of our adorable Redeemer,
thus giving glory to God. Benevolence
among the Jews is considered a meritorious
act, and in its best form must therefore L5v 118
be selfish, but we are Christians,—our
motive is the glory of God. Let us prove it
by our acts of benevolence in Christ’s name,
and for His sake.

Jemima and Reuben also found an happy
asylum in the house of a man equally celebrated
for his illustrious descent, and the active
benevolence of his character. Solomon
De Lissau, who had lately buried his wife,
received the sufferers into his household; gave
minute attention to their immediate necessities,
and desired they would consider themselves
completely at home, as long as their
situation required it.

Jemima had previously known De Lissau’s
housekeeper, with whom, at her own desire,
she passed the chief of her time, which was
occupied in making articles of wearing apparel
for herself and Reuben, from materials
provided by De Lissau. His eldest daughter
now at the head of his family, sometimes
sent for the widow and her son into her
own apartments, and drew from Jemima the
particulars of her past life. She was also
very courteous to Reuben, and encouraged
him to detail particulars of his journies, being L6r 119
much pleased with his simplicity. But,
though Emma De Lissau used every endeavour
to win the good opinion of her humble
guests, because she admired the probity,
single-heartedness, and industry that distinguished
their characters, she could only elicit
from them a formal cold respect, and even
that, it was clearly evident, was yielded rather
to her station than her person. Jewish
bigotry and superstition had thus closed the
otherwise amiable and grateful hearts of the
widow and her son.

Jemima and Leah Moss sometimes conversed
on this subject, but they could never
agree respecting it; and once, on Jemima’s
applying, almost inadvertently, the term
“apostate” to the governess, as Emma was
styled by her father’s household, the good
housekeeper was much offended, and more
than once said, she thought kindness at least
merited gratitude, let the religious opinions
of the parties differ ever so widely.

As soon as Wolfe saw his mother quietly
settled, for a time, in the household of Mr.
Goldsmid, he wrote an account of what had
happened to Rabbi Meyer and Rosetta. He L6v 120
then persuaded Iscah to allow of his proceeding
immediately to Matilda, to communicate
her mother’s present situation to her.
This proposal appeared to Iscah so reasonable
that she consented joyfully, and Wolfe
took leave of her, requesting any letters from
Canterbury might be forwarded to him.

Wolfe then proceeded to confide in his cousin
Jemima, as he had promised Reuben.
She was touched by the details of Wolfe,
and wept over Matilda’s letter, but she freely
blamed her aunt’s conduct in the affair, and
said, with a degree of asperity quite unusual
to her, that they ought not to have expected
any other result from an alliance so unholy,
neither did they deserve that it should prosper.
Nevertheless, she urged Wolfe to hasten
to his sister, and promised to keep the
affair a profound secret, for Iscah’s sake.

Before they separated, Wolfe questioned
Jemima as to her own plans for the future.
She informed him that she had just written
to Jonas Abrahams at Bristol, an account of
the late calamity, by which she had been
nearly deprived of her little all, and offered
if there was any prospect of employ for M1r 121
herself near them, to accept his generous offer
for Reuben.

“The reply to my letter,” added she, “will
decide my future plans. Then, I may be
able to offer my services, if requisite, to Matilda.
I cannot dissemble my disapprobation
of the past, cousin Wolfe, but, notwithstanding,
you may rely on my friendship and
affection, as the children of my aunt.”

Wolfe was greatly chagrined, and the more
as he had no doubt the sentiments she expressed
so freely would be those of the Jews
in general, should the affair be known. Had
his sister been brought forward as the acknowledged
wife of Captain Allenby, Wolfe
would have set at nought their opinions, or
sheltered himself under the respectability of
his sister’s connexion; but now, he was
greatly perplexed how to proceed, and what
to do with Matilda, at least till his marriage
had taken place; for he was not without apprehension
of the effect a knowledge of these
circumstances might produce on the bigoted
mind of the austere Rabbi Meyer.

While thus painfully exercised in his
spirit, the often experienced kindness of Vol. II.M M1v 122
Mrs. Beaconsfield suddenly occurred to
Wolfe’s mind. He remembered the unbounded
generosity of her character,—her
love to his nation,—and the genuine sweetness
and affability of her disposition. At the
recollection, a ray of hope sprung up in his
heart. Everton Lodge was but little out of
his direct road to Turret Cottage, and he resolved
to take it in his way, and inquire if
she had returned from Margate.

“Should I be so happy as to meet with
her,” said he, “and she gives me the least
encouragement, I will open my heart to her,
and shew her poor Matilda’s letter. She is
a noble Goya,—a wise and a kind one.
Perhaps she would allow Matilda to come to
Everton Lodge, until I can break the affair to
my dear mother, or even till I have married
Rosetta. Yes! I will consult her, and ask
her to assist us in our present distress.”

Having thus decided to throw himself on
the generosity of Mrs. Beaconsfield, Wolfe
proceeded to Everton Lodge. On his arrival
he was rejoiced to find that she had returned
from Margate some days. The servants informed
him, however, that she did not intend M2r 123
making any stay at Everton Lodge, having
merely returned to make preparations for
a visit to a friend residing at Clifton Hot
Wells; nor was she in the house then, but
was dining in the neighbourhood, and had
ordered her carriage at eight in the evening.

On receiving this intelligence, Wolfe requested
permission to await her return, alleging
particular business. The servants,
aware that Mrs. Beaconsfield always wished
Wolfe to be made welcome, acceded, at once,
to his request, and, with an heart still
anxious, yet not without hope, Wolfe awaited
the return of this valuable friend of himself
and his nation.

Chapter XIX.

Although Wolfe Levy was utterly incapable
of appreciating the ruling motive of
Mrs. Beaconsfield’s actions, he had not miscalculated
in the reliance he placed on her
generous and active assistance. His visit at
such a period, and the anxious expression of
his countenance, convinced her, even before M3r 125
he spoke, that some extraordinary misfortune
had befallen him. That he should seek her,
in such circumstances, was truly gratifying
to her benevolent heart, and she hastened,
in the most encouraging terms, to inquire,
what she could do to serve him. Conduct
so truly Christian, found its way, at once, to
the heart of Wolfe; and, overcome by it, he
actually wept bitterly, before he could expressly
state the object of his visit.

Mrs. Beaconsfield listened, with feelings of
deep interest, to the detail Wolfe entered into
respecting Matilda, and was sometimes much
affected, as she perused the letter he had
previously delivered to her. She did not,
however, attempt to enter on the subject, at
any length, that evening.

“I must devote a little time to reflection
on this interesting case, friend Wolfe,” said
Mrs. Beaconsfield, “before I offer either opinion
or advice. But I will not hold you long
in suspence. In the morning you shall know
my mind. Meantime, rely on my active
friendship, and expect from it, all I can do
to assist you at a crisis so important and so
urgent.”

M3 M3v 126

Wolfe made suitable acknowledgements
for an assurance so benevolent, and, greatly
comforted by promises on which past experience
assured him he might rely, he retired
to rest with an heart more lightened, than it
had been since he received his sister’s letter.

The critical situation of Matilda, occupied
the attention of Mrs. Beaconsfield, until a
very late hour. As a Christian, desirous in
all she undertook to keep in view the glory
of God, she sought, in the first place, counsel
from Him who is the true wisdom. This
done, her decision was soon made, and she
met Wolfe, next morning, with a serene and
benign aspect, at the breakfast table. Her
looks and manner cheered him, even before
she gave utterance to the purposes of her
noble and feeling heart.

“You shall leave Everton Lodge immediately
after breakfast, Wolfe,” said this generous
woman. “Go to your sister with all
the speed you can. Her letter is evidently
the production of a raised imagination, operating
on a wounded spirit. You must remove
her as soon as possible from the spot
where she has suffered so much, and where M4r 127
all around her tends to increase her sorrow.
My heart and my house are open to receive
her. I have written to this purpose, and you
will oblige me by warmly urging Mrs. Allenby’s
acceptance of my proposal, at least until
she is better able to decide as to the
future.”

Mrs. Beaconsfield then delivered to Wolfe
a note for Matilda, and he took leave of her
for the present, with an heart deeply impressed
with her seasonable admonition and
kindness.

The shades of evening closed around Turret
Cottage ere Wolfe reached it. He was
a most welcome visiter to his expecting sister,
and their first meeting was a very affecting
one. Wolfe had anticipated that he
should find Matilda indisposed in body, and
wretched in her mind, but for the striking
alteration he now witnessed he was not prepared,
and he uttered mingled exclamations
of grief for his sister, and passionate execrations
on those who had thus injured her.
Matilda was, in appearance, calm, collected,
and though serious, yet apparently tranquil.
Her anguish was not discernible in the quiet M4v 128
expression of her countenance. It was too
deep for a common observer. In the inmost
recesses of her heart it preyed unchecked.
That heart was breaking, while her exterior
was calm and passionless. In person however,
she was wonderfully changed. Sorrow
had made a vast havoc in so short a period.
Her form, once so majestic, had wasted to a
mere shadow;—it looked almost spectral;—
the expression of her features was still noble,
—but the finger of death was there,—the
transparent complexion,—the hollow cheek,
–the unnaturally bright yet sunken eye,—
the wan lip,—the incessant cough,—the
quick short breath,—all, all told that Matilda
suffered much, but would not suffer
long.

Matilda forgot herself, to console her brother,
when she saw how heavily he took her
situation.

“Be comforted my dear brother,” said she
in accents of tenderness, “resume your courage,
you will need it to console our honored
mother. As for me, the bitterness of death
is passed. I am no longer an object of compassion.
There was only one way, to which M5r 129
I could look forward with composure, after
what has happened. My wish is heard, I
shall soon be at rest. Wolfe, if you love me
cherish our mother, and supply my place to
her.”

When Wolfe had given vent to his feelings,
and in a measure recovered himself, he
detailed to Matilda the late events; his mother’s
present situation, and Mrs. Beaconsfield’s
character and sympathetic kindness.
He then presented her note to Matilda, and
warmly urged her immediate acceptance of
the offered asylum, at least until after his
marriage. He should then be able to receive
her in his own house, and their mother’s
feelings would be spared for the present.

Matilda smiled mournfully as her brother
spoke of receiving her after his marriage,
but made no reply, and proceeded to read
Mrs. Beaconsfield’s note. It was penned
with equal delicacy and tenderness, and
urged, in the most feeling terms, her acceptance
of an immediate invitation to Everton
Lodge, which the writer assured her, she
should consider a personal favor, and the
more so, the earlier it was conferred on her.

M5v 130

“Amiable Goya!” said Matilda as she
folded up the note.

And but little more persuasion from Wolfe
was necessary to induce her acceptance of
Mrs. Beaconsfield’s protection.

In the course of the evening, Matilda, of
her own accord, acquainted Wolfe with her
present situation. Dreading to agitate her,
he would have waved the discussion, at least
for that evening, though of course, anxious
for his sister,—but Matilda would not hear
of it.

“Time is precious, Wolfe,” said she, calmly,
“I have none to waste. Fear not that
these details will affect me. All that is over
now.”

She then informed Wolfe, that the mother
of her husband, (for so, said she, I shall ever
consider him,) had settled on her an annuity
of two hundred pounds a year. The cottage
was let, and the tenant was to take possession
at Michaelmas (it was now August,) but
the furniture, plate, china, linen, and wine,
was at Matilda’s absolute disposal. Nor
had she rejected the arrangements of Mrs.
Allenby.

M6r 131

“I am her son’s legal wife, notwithstanding
their evasive pretensions,” concluded she,
“I feel, therefore, no scruple in making use
of what I consider my undoubted right.
You will, therefore, remove these things how
and where you please, my dear Wolfe, while
I am yet in existence, but first conduct me
to this good Mrs. Beaconsfield.”

Wolfe found his sister somewhat revived
next day, and at her own request conveyed
her in a chaise to Everton Lodge. She bore
the journey better than he had hoped, and
was received by Mrs. Beaconsfield with a
tenderness almost maternal. All that the
most affectionate sympathy could devise for
the comfort of the interesting invalid, was
arranged in her commodious apartment, to
which she was welcomed by her new friend
in a manner the most cordial.

When Wolfe was alone with Mrs. Beaconsfield,
he expressed to her his alarm respecting
Matilda. His kind friend, though
she would not flatter him, yet said she
thought there was hope, from the youth and
previous good health of the invalid. She
should however hebe able to give him more M6v 132
certain information, having dispatched a
messenger for her family physician, immediately
after the arrival of Matilda.

Wolfe expressed his gratitude for this considerate
attention, and acceded to Mrs. Beaconsfield’s
wish of remaining at Everton
Lodge, until Dr. Murray had paid his first
visit. He was then to return to Turret Cottage,
and after making the necessary arrangements
for the disposal of Matilda’s property
there, he proposed returning to London
by the stage, that he might not alarm his
mother by making too long a stay. Besides
which, as the Jewish holidays drew near, he
had much business in hand previous to his
marriage, which was to take place at their
close.

The opinion of Dr. Murray was decidedly
unfavorable, as it respected any hope of Matilda’s
recovery. He pronounced her case to
be one of rapid consumption, and said it had
proceeded too far, to admit of any, but alleviating
medicines. He did not, however,
object to Mrs. Beaconsfield’s proposal of removing
her to the Hot well at Clifton, and
thought she could bear the journey if removed N1r 133
by easy stages. Matilda herself
seemed rather pleased than otherwise, when
the plan was mentioned to her. Every hour
seemed to increase her love and respect to
Mrs. Beaconsfield, and when Wolfe with a
cheerful look, but aching heart, took leave
of his sister, she thanked him very warmly
for placing her in such amiable hands.

“She is an angel of a woman,” said the
enthusiastic Matilda. “Could I have imagined
there was such a one among the Gentiles!
—No!—You may go in peace Wolfe,
only keep my mother’s mind easy, and all
will be well.”

When Wolfe returned to his sister’s late
habitation, he was at a loss how to remove
her effects from Turret Cottage, but was agreeably
relieved by an offer of the future
tenant, to take them at a fair valuation.
Wolfe had not appeared among his brethren
in the adjacent town, being unwilling to excite
suspicion, or encounter questions he was
not disposed to make a reply to. He therefore
made his own valuation on terms so
equitable, that they were at once complied
with, and on the second evening, Wolfe after Vol. II. N N1v 134
giving up the keys to the new tenant, ascended
the roof of a night coach, on his way
to town.

On his arrival in London, he first repaired
to his mother. He found her well, and happy
as she could be, in the present state of
affairs. The intelligence he brought from
Matilda did not detract from it. He assured
her his sister was well, and just about setting
off on an excursion for some months. He
also delivered to her a trunk of wearing apparel,
and other articles, from Matilda, with
a sum of money for present use. Iscah was
delighted with her daughter’s presents; and,
while Wolfe was yet with her, a letter arrived
from Canterbury, condoling with her
on her late misfortune, and warmly inviting
herself and son to pass the approaching holidays
at Rabbi Meyer’s house, who kindly
added his wish that she would find it sufficiently
agreeable, to induce her to remain
there till Wolfe and Rosetta were united.

Unable, under his present feelings, to witness
the extravagant joy of Iscah, on the
receipt of this letter, added to his feigned account
of Matilda, Wolfe hastened to quit her, N2r 135
ere he betrayed himself. His next visit was
to the house of Solomon De Lissau. Jemima
heard his melancholy tale with deep interest,
and wept as he described the hopeless
state of Matilda. That he should, as yet,
conceal it from her aunt, she could allow for
and agree to; but she utterly disapproved his
conduct in placing Matilda under the care
of Mrs. Beaconsfield, and declared her firm
belief that the subtle Goya would entirely
alienate her from the Jewish faith.

“The conduct which appears so generous
to you, cousin Wolfe,” added Jemima, with
an asperity not usual to her, “has no other
end in view. If your sister cannot live, at
least, though she has thrown herself away so
long among Goyim, you should have endeavoured
so to place her, that she might have
been prepared to die as a Jewess, acknowledging
the unity of God.”

Wolfe, much offended at Jemima’s narrow
bigotry, and almost repenting the confidence
he had reposed in her, though not in the
least afraid of her violating it, hastily replied,

“If Matilda lives till autumn, I shall be N2 N2v 136
able to receive her in my own house; till
then, I can make no alteration.”

Then, to change the subject, he enquired
if Jemima had received any reply from his
friend at Bristol.

“I have,” was her answer; “and it is a
very favourable one.”

She then placed the letter of Jonas Abrahams
in Wolfe’s hands. It was a very kind
one, and stated that there was an opening for her among the Jews of Bristol,
which would be more lucrative than the business
she had hitherto followed. Its nature, however,
he did not explain, only saying it was
a local one, and could be best detailed on
the spot. He concluded by expressing his
satisfaction at the idea of receiving Reuben
into his family, and warmly invited them to
come before the holidays, if possible. He
had also the considerate kindness to inclose
money for the journey.

Wolfe was much gratified at this event,
and cordially congratulated Jemima and
Reuben upon it. He then detailed to them
particulars of the letter from Canterbury,
and that Iscah would accept the invitation N3r 137
it contained, inquiring whether Jemima had
replied to Rabbi Jonas, and what was her
final decision.

“I have written,” answered she; “we
leave London on Tuesday in the next week,
and now that I find my aunt is also leaving
town, I go without regret; especially as our
friend Leah Marks is so comfortably settled
in the family of Rabbi Moses.”

Wolfe mused awhile, and then asked Jemima
if she would not endeavour to see Matilda,
as the distance from St. Augustine’s
Backback to the Hot Well at Clifton was trifling,
and merely an agreeable walk. If so, he
would forward Matilda’s address as soon as
he should receive it.

A hope flashed on Jemima’s mind that she
might be able, perhaps, to detach her cousin
from Mrs. Beaconsfield, and place her in
a Jewish family. Such an act she believed
to be highly meritorious, and therefore replied,
it would give her inexpressible pleasure
if she could be of any service to her
cousin, and requested Wolfe would write to
her as he offered.

Wolfe easily penetrated the motive of Jemima’sN3 N3v 138
altered manner, but he made no comment
on it, and left his cousins in better
spirits than he had met them with. He was
staying, for the present, with Rabbi Moses,
and on his return there, wrote to Rabbi
Meyer and his daughter; also to his sister
and her kind protectress; after which, he began
to prepare for his journey to Canterbury.

Chapter XX.

Jemima had selected Tuesday as the day
of her departure from London to her new
habitation, because it is considered by the
Jews the most auspicious day in the week,
for any new undertaking. The reason assigned
for this opinion, by the Rabbins,
whose chief learning is often displayed in N4v 140
these curious subtleties, has its foundation in
the First Chapter of Genesis. The inspired
writer, has there recorded, that the Divine
Creator of the universe though he deigned on
the first day to pronounce his work to be
good, did not so express Himself on the second
day, (i. e. Monday) but on the third day
(i. e. Tuesday) say they, God pronounced the
word be true, or good, twice; and for that
reason, Tuesday is preferred, as being the
most auspicious day to begin temporal affairs.

When Jemima and her son took leave of
De Lissau, which they did with many expressions
of gratitude for his benevolent attention
to them, he made them a present
worthy his noble character, and their acceptance,
and desired the widow to apply to him,
without scruple, in any case of emergency.
He also gave to Reuben a small bible, and
bid him read it frequently, with prayer to
God to give him understanding, so that he
might profit in the perusal of its holy contents.

From the study of the worthy De Lissau,
Jemima proceeded to the apartment of his
daughter, to offer her parting acknowledgements. N5r 141
She did so, however, with great reluctance,
nevertheless, the generous hospitality
exercised towards her, made it indispensable.
Emma De Lissau received her
kindly, expressed pleasure at the prospect
her new undertaking promised, and with
cordial wishes for her prosperity, placed a
small packet in the widow’s hands, as a
token, she said of good will and respect for
her, as a judicious parent, and an exemplary
member of Society.

Jemima blushed deeply at this panegyric
on her past conduct. But from the daughter
of De Lissau it was evidently an unwelcome
one. Acting from the impulse of bigotry,
Jemima placed the packet on a table
near her, and declined accepting it. Sensible,
however, how ungracious such conduct
was, she endeavoured to soften it by saying,
that the bounty of De Lissau rendered any
addition quite unnecessary; but her confused
manner of speaking, clearly proved that the
reason she adduced was a mere evasion; and
Leah Moss, who was an indignant spectator,
told her so, in no very measured terms. The
zealous housekeeper was about to add some
severe comment when Emma interfered.

N5v 142

“Hush my good Leah,” said she, mildly,
“Mrs. Hart acts from principle, I am sure.
As a strict and conscientious Jewess, perhaps,
she could not accept my gifts. Nevertheless
she has my respect and good wishes,
and I charge you part with her in peace.”

Emma retired immediately after this address
to Leah Moss, and Jemima owned to
the housekeeper, that the mildness of her
mistress, who appeared to have penetrated
the real motive of her conduct, affected her.

“I will pray for her,” said she earnestly,
“that she may be restored to the true faith,
and become a worthy daughter in Israel”

These words somewhat appeased Leah
Moss, and the widow and her son parted
with her, at last, in an amicable manner.

On the day that Jemima departed for
Bristol, Iscah and Wolfe set out for Canterbury.
Wolfe had previously received a
line from Mrs. Beaconsfield, stating that she
was about to remove his sister, by easy
stages, to Clifton, from whence she would
write immediately after their arrival.

The journey to Clifton was made, in every
respect, convenient to Matilda. One side of N6r 143
Mrs. Beaconsfield’s carriage was arranged
intirely for her comfort, and devoted exclusively
to her use; and she could when so
disposed, recline in it, on cushions of the
softest and most delicate texture. The tenderest
anticipation marked and prevented her
lightest wishes; and Mrs. Beaconsfield had
engaged an experienced nurse to attend her,
who was careful, prudent, tender, unobtrusive,
and, best of all, a sincere Christian.

Having thus, with the generous delicacy
peculiar to female benevolence, provided for,
and even prevented, the personal wants of
the interesting invalid, whom she had taken
charge of solely for Christ’s sake, and therefore
acted by, as unto Him, Mrs. Beaconsfield
was not unmindful of her spiritual
need. But she proceeded in this important
matter with prudent zeal. She prayed for
Matilda, earnestly and incessantly. Spoke
to her tenderly, but faithfully, on the uncertainty
of her recovery, of which indeed Matilda
herself had from the first been fully
aware, and sought by almost imperceptible
degrees, to awaken her benighted mind to a
serious contemplation of that eternal world
to which she was evidently hastening.

N6v 144

The young Jewess, on her part, felt and
avowed, for her new friend, the most lively
gratitude and warm affection. Every day,
every hour, added to its strength. The conduct
of Mrs. Beaconsfield, contrasted with
that of the Allenby’s, affected Matilda deeply.
It did more,—it not only removed her late
prejudices against the Gentiles, but it also
placed the Christian character before her in
so lovely a point of view, that she said to
Mrs. Walton, her nurse.

“If all Christians were like Mrs. Beaconsfield,
it would almost tempt me to be a
Christian.”

Mrs. Walton, who had been instructed by
Mrs. Beaconsfield, to follow readily any conversation
of this description, but never to
introduce or lead it, made a discreet reply,
in which she briefly explained the distinction
to be made between nominal and vital professors
of Christianity; and added, that Mrs.
Beaconsfield’s conduct had its origin in
divine grace, and that the spring of all her
actions might be found in the religion of Jesus,
as explained in the New Testament.

O1r 145

Matilda listened very attentively to her
nurse. She did not, however, make any reply,
and the important subject was not renewed
at that time, but a few days afterwards,
Matilda requested Mrs. Beaconsfield
to lend her a Testament. From motives of
delicacy and prudence, the Old Testament
only had been placed in her apartment, and
her present unexpected, but most welcome,
request, was therefore hailed as a token for
good, and instantly complied with.

Mrs. Beaconsfield did not give utterance
to the feelings of her heart, when she placed
in Matilda’s hands the precious volume, that
holy record of the adorable Jesus, but her
manner, expressive, though silent, deeply
touched the Jewess. She could not but observe
the benign features of her friend, beautifully
illumined as they were, at that affecting
moment, with Christian love, sympathy,
and hope. She contemplated Mrs. Beaconsfield
in silent admiration, and, though she
spoke not, tears fell on the beloved hand
that put the holy volume in hers, with a
look,—oh, how expressive!

When Mrs. Beaconsfield quitted the object Vol. II. O O1v 146
of her solicitude, after this silent, but moving
scene, she said to Mrs. Walton,

“I humbly trust there is hope in this
case!”

And these truly Christian women, united
in prayer that it might be so, if in accordance
with the divine will.

Never, perhaps, is the holy origin of the
Christian faith so clearly, so indisputably
manifested, as when the renewed heart, operated
on by the gracious and melting influence
of the Eternal Spirit, produces the
precious fruit of Christian love,—that immortal
principle, so gloriously expatiated on by
the Apostle Paul, ( 1st. Corinthians, chap. xiii),
and so inexpressibly hallowed and dignified
by St. John, when he declares that wonderful
truth, so divinely consolatory and encouraging,
“God is love.”( 1st. John, iv. 8.)

Oh that the transcendent principle of
gospel love, that touchstone whereby we
prove ourselves to be true children of the
Most High God, may be more and more shed
abroad in the hearts, and exemplified in the
lives of all who profess truly to know, and
faithfully to follow, the lowly, loving Jesus, O2r 147
—that meek One who loved, and gave his
adorable self for them; and said, in that
solemn hour, when, (in the near contemplation
of his approaching and tremendous sufferings,)
he so graciously opened his tender
heart to the beloved disciples,

“‘This is my commandment, that ye love one
another.’” St. John’s Gospel, xv, 12.

The journey to Clifton was at length accomplished,
and Matilda bore it better than
could have been hoped, from her daily increasing
weakness. Mrs. Beaconsfield engaged
a suitable residence, close to the salubrious
spring, and then wrote to Wolfe Levy
an account of his sister’s health, and her hope
that the change of air would alleviate her
sufferings, though she entertained no expectation
of her ultimate recovery.

This letter reached Wolfe on the day previous
to the Jewish new year. The pain it
gave him, and which he could not entirely
conceal, passed off, however, without exciting
particular notice; for at this period, considered
by the Jews so solemn, the gayest
among them become thoughtful, and resume
not their wonted levity until the day of O2 O2v 148
atonement has closed, and the seal is thereby
affixed to their destiny for that year.

Iscah and her son had been received by
Rabbi Solomon Meyer and Rosetta in the
most cordial manner. The Rabbi was pleased
with Wolfe’s mother, and she was enchanted
with the beauty and lively temper of his
daughter; nor was Rosetta less satisfied with
her intended mother-in-law, with whom she
was soon on the best terms.

Wolfe was much gratified, as he observed
the daily increasing union between them;
but the afflictive situation of Matilda hung
heavily on his spirits. He could not hope
to conceal it long from his beloved mother;
and, knowing the vivacity of her feelings, he
dreaded the effect intelligence so poignant
would have on a mind so acutely susceptible.
In her growing attachment to Rosetta, however,
he saw a ray of hope, and he sought to
persuade himself that, in the sad hour, when
the hopeless state of Matilda should be made
known to her, the tender soothings of Rosetta,
then also her daughter, would pour balm
on her bleeding heart, and allay its anguish.
Thus Wolfe reasoned, and was comforted. O3r 149
Alas! he knew not, he could not penetrate,
the deep and sacred tenderness of a mother’s
heart. Mysterious feeling! implanted by the
Great Author of our being, a mother alone
can appreciate thy nature and extent.

Wolfe did not neglect his promise of forwarding
his sister’s present address to his
cousin Jemima, renewing, at the same time,
his injunctions of secresy, till a favourable
opportunity occurred for disclosing the truth
to his mother. His letter arrived, however,
at a juncture so critical and affecting, that
Jemima could only glance at its contents, nor,
anxious as she was respecting Matilda, could
she attempt to see her at that time.

The widow and her son had been welcomed
by Jonas Abrahams and his amiable family,
with all the genuine kindness that distinguished
them. After a short period, devoted
to rest, from the fatigue of the
longest journey Jemima had ever taken,
she entreated to be informed how she was to
be employed. Jonas, with a good-natured
smile, desired she would be contented to remain
his guest until after the holidays; but
this, not contenting the industrious Jemima, O3 O3v 150
his wife, then approaching very near her confinement,
told her that the Jews at Bristol
had lately lost a devout and respected Jewess,
who had gained a decent subsistence
among them, by officiating as nurse to her
countrywomen, and the place waited Jemima’s
acceptance, if she approved of it.

“You are aware, my dear Mrs. Hart,” continued
her kind hostess, “how comfortable
is the situation of a Jewish nurse, in respectable
families. I need not remind you, either,
of their emoluments, especially on the birth
of a male, and during the card parties in the
third week.”

Jemima acknowledged that she would
gladly accept the offered situation, but modestly
expressed her doubt of filling it adequately.

“Of that,” replied Mrs. Abrahams, with
an encouraging smile, “I hope to be enabled
soon to judge, and bear a testimony in your
favour; for, as you have signified your acceptance,
I beg leave to engage your services
in the first place, and request you will do me
the favour to remain in my house until I require
them.”

O4r 151

An arrangement so considerate could not
but be gratefully accepted; and Reuben
wept for joy on his mother’s neck, when she
informed him of it.

“Oh, my dear mother!” said the affectionate
boy, “I will do my very utmost to please
and oblige my good master and mistress, for
their kindness to you.”

Jemima embraced her darling son, and said
all she could to confirm him in his determination;
and her bosom felt lighter than it
had done for some time.

The whole family looked anxiously forward
to the period of Mrs. Abrahams’ confinement.
Every individual of it earnestly desired a
son; and so peculiarly intense were the
wishes of Jonas himself, that he gave a liberal
sum in alms, and caused especial prayers
to be offered, in furtherance of his ardent desire
for a caudish, or son.

How short-sighted and ignorant is vain
man! How frequently does he seek, with ardour,
gifts tending to his own irreparable injury!
Often, in compassion, our weak carnal
desires are withheld, or in mercy blighted,
by the all-wise Disposer of events. But O4v 152
sometimes He answers his erring creatures
“by terrible things in righteousness.”

On the eve of the Jewish new year, Miriam
Abrahams gave birth to a son, but expired
ere the sex of her babe could be announced
to her!

It would be superfluous to describe the anguish
of the aged mother and fond husband
of the departed. Nor could the mourners
assemble round them, or the dead be removed
from their sight in the usual short period.
During the two days on which the solemn
festival of the new year is observed, it is not
lawful among the Jews to bury their dead.
On the third day, however, the funeral took
place; and the husband, after he had, with
difficulty, performed the last affecting duties
entailed on him as a Jew, at the grave of his
wife, returned to his melancholy home, to sit
on the ground, surrounded by his motherless
children, agreeable to the observances enjoined
on them.

The aged grandmother was not able to
pay this tribute to her daughter’s memory.
The shock of so touching an event had cast
her on the bed of languishing, and her O5r 153
mournful wailing agonised the hearts of all
who approached her.

The infant, whose birth was attended by
circumstances so afflictive, though delicate,
appeared likely to live. Jonas would not
hear of a person being hired, to supply to the
babe the mother it had lost, but, requesting
to see Jemima, he placed his boy in her arms,
and, with streaming eyes and sobbing accents,
said to her,

“I believe the Holy and Blessed One has
sent you hither to soften our calamity. Remain
here, and be a mother to my motherless
boy.”

Jemima, deeply affected, pressed the babe
to her heart, and, with many tears, accepted
the sacred trust. Nor did she prove herself
unworthy of it. She devoted all her time to
her charge, and its relatives. The infant,
under all the disadvantages of being brought
up by hand, and deprived, as he was, of his
natural nourishment, promised to reward her
unremitting attention, by his increasing
health and vivacity.

Thus circumstanced, the arrival of Wolfe’s
letter, which was during the week of mourning, O5v 154
made less impression at the moment,
than it did when returning composure gave
her leisure to attend to it. In her reply, she
gave Wolfe a brief detail of the past, and assured
him she would not fail to see Matilda,
at the very first opportunity her present important
duties might afford her.

Chapter XXI.

Matilda continued for some time in the
fluctuating state so common to the malady that
was silently, but surely, conducting its victim
to the grave. She read the Testament with
profound interest, during the intervals of ease O6v 156
obtained for her by alleviating medicines,
and frequently put questions of the deepest
importance on the momentous subject, to
Mrs. Beaconsfield and her nurse. They replied
to them faithfully, and felt their hopes
daily more confirmed.

One day, as her kind friend sat at work by
the sofa, on which the invalid reclined, Matilda,
somewhat unexpectedly, thus addressed
her, in tones low, sweet, and inexpressibly
affecting.

“My dearest madam, allow me to converse
with you respecting the divine book that has
of late so deeply occupied me. I have read
it with solemn attention, and am convinced
it is divine. Let my nation assert what they
please, I believe that your record of Jesus is
true! But oh! my beloved friend, though
my judgment is convinced, my heart, my
hard heart, rises against it, and refuses to
receive these truths, I now believe to be necessary
for my salvation!”

Feeling my consolatory hope, that the
Great Redeemer would surely perfect his
gracious work on the soul of the young Jewess,
after a brief and silent, but fervent ejaculation, P1r 157
Mrs. Beaconsfield fell on Matilda’s
neck, and her streaming eyes, tender embrace,
and silent but expressive joy, proved
the deep interest this excellent woman took
in the salvation of her dying charge.

When somewhat composed, Mrs. Beaconsfield
encouraged Matilda, and bid her hope
and expect that He who had convinced her
judgment, and enabled her thus far to overcome
her national prejudices, hitherto so
deeply seated, would also, in His own gracious
time, undoubtedly subjugate that heart
she now avowed to be so obdurate, and melt
it under a sense of divine love, by the all-
conquering power, and purifying influence of
the Eternal Spirit.

Matilda was so much agitated at this declaration,
that her judicious friend closed
the interesting conversation, and withdrew,
leaving her to repose.

The next fortnight was passed by the invalid
in much pain, both mental and personal.
Her dissolution approached with rapid
strides. Once, she had hailed the idea with
delight, and even longed for its consummation.
Disappointed pride, blighted affection, Vol. II. P P1v 158
and a mind devoid of resource in the day of
calamity, made her wish to quit a world she
no longer loved; and the Jewish belief respecting
death, as an expiatory act, stripped
the last enemy of his terrors. In this opinion
she became more confirmed, after her
brother, at her urgent request, wrote out for
her the following prayer, which she had daily
used, until the present period, when, with
tears of heartfelt agony, she placed the paper
in the hands of Mrs. Beaconsfield, and declared
her conviction that it was illusive, and
useless.

“I confess before Thee, O Lord our God,
and the God of our fathers, that my cure is
in thy hands. If it be Thy good pleasure,
heal me with a perfect healing; but if I die,
let my death be for the pardon, forgiveness,
and atonement, of all the sins, iniquities, and
transgressions, which I have sinned, acted
perversely in, and transgressed before Thee;
and give me my portion in paradise, and justify
me in the world which is hidden for the
righteous.”—Extracted from Seder Tephillat,
fol. 338.

Such had been the views of Matilda when, P2r
in time past, she contemplated the probable
termination of her insidious malady. But
they were so no longer. “The refuge of
lies” on which she had rested was now swept
away for ever. she was enabled to discern,
clearly, that the evangelical record of Jesus,
was the true one, and that adopted by her
nation an invention of Satan.Open note 10Back to note ¹⁰ She felt P2 P2v 160
that the crucified Nazarene was the only
way of salvation, and the Christian faith a
divine reality. But the knowledge and belief
of it brought no peace to her harrassed
spirit; she mourned her hopeless state in the
anguish of her soul, and refused to be comforted.

Mrs. Beaconsfield and Matilda’s nurse
were deeply affected. They hoped and believed
it was a medicinal sorrow, that would
end in the spiritual profit of the sufferer, and P3r 161
that this dark night would happily terminate
in a bright morning, without clouds; but
they could only pray for one then passing
through deep waters, and wait with patience
the appearance of Him who is “mighty to
save,” for not any thing they could urge gave
her any comfort.

“Alas!” she would reply, when they attempted
to console her, “I believe these
truths, but my heart remains untouched by
them. I now know that Jesus is the very
Christ, but my heart receives him not,
though I earnestly desire it.”

Mrs. Beaconsfield left Matilda a little
easier, as it regarded her personal sufferings,
one morning, to call on the friend for whom P3 P3v 162
she had originally designed her visit to Clifton,
(until Wolfe’s communication induced her to
make an altercation in her previous arrangements.)
During her absence, Jemima made
her long intended visit to her cousin. Matilda
received her kindly, but it was evident
to Mrs. Walton, that the visit was not a desirable
one to the invalid. After some indifferent
conversation, Jemima looked at the
nurse, and then spoke a few words to Matilda,
in a whisper. She, however, immediately
replied aloud,

“You may speak freely before Mrs. Walton,
cousin.”

Now would she allow her to withdraw, as
she motioned to do.

Jemima felt chagrined. She had come
after much hesitation, in accordance with the
rabbinical preceptOpen note 11Back to note ¹¹ and did not like the
Goya, to hear all she had to urge. Nevertheless,
as she could not prevail to see the P4r I63163
invalid alone, she proceeded to represent in
an affectionate manner, the impropriety of
Matilda’s remaining among Goyim, and besought
her to allow herself to be removed to
a Jewish family.

“You appear to be very, very ill Matilda,”
continued Jemima mournfully. “In the
name of the God of Israel I conjure you,
if you must die, let it be as a daughter of
Abraham! Oh stay not with these false
Goyim.—Let me, let me remove you, where
your last breath may exclaim; ‘Hear O Israel,’
lest your soul perish even as theirs.”

Jemima wrung her hands in the vehemence
of her feelings, as she uttered these
words, and with evident impatience she awaited
Matilda’s reply.

P4v 164

“Your labor is vain, and your words come
too late,” answered the invalid, more distinctly
than she had spoken for several days.
“I have no longer any religious feelings in
common with my nation.”

“One question more!” exclaimed Jemima
passionately. “Have you renounced the
true faith? Are you a Christian.?”

“Would I were one!” replied Matilda,
“The true faith said you? I never knew it
until now! and now I fear I know it too
late!”

The entrance from Mrs. Beaconsfield, interrupted
the harsh reproof, Jemima’s flashing
eye, and glowing cheek, seemed to threaten,
and she took her leave, merely bidding Matilda
reflect on what she had said, and she
would call again shortly for her final decision.

From that period a change took place in
the interesting Jewess. Her mind was hourly
less and less clouded. Her harrassing
cough almost intirely subsided. The incessant
pain in her side was much alleviated,
and her breath more free.

P5r 165

“Surely my dear Mrs. Walton,” said she,
cheerfully, “my poor angry cousin has done
me good rather than hurt by her vehemence,
as you were so kindly apprehensive would
be the case. You cannot conceive what an
alteration for the better I feel, both in body
and mind; blessed be God!”

Mrs. Walton sighed deeply, but made no
reply. She knew too well the flattering
nature of the fatal malady, and the fallacy
of such appearances, to allow of hope on this
occasion, yet felt unwilling to depress the
invalid.

A sweet and refreshing repose still further
animated Matilda, and in the afternoon of
the next day, she requested to be removed
to the sofa in the next room, which looked
on a small garden attached to the house,
and from whence she could see the sun set.

Matilda reposed on her couch without
speaking for more than an hour, though she
slept not. She was apparently absorbed in
a deep but not unpleasing reverie. Her thin
white hands were folded on her bosom,—her
eyes, glittering with the fatal brilliancy incidental
to her malady, were half closed,— P5v 166
their long silken lashes resting on the hollow
transparent cheek, delicately tinted in
its centre by a soft pink glow,—and her pale
lips were just severed by a slight but sweet
smile.

Mrs. Beaconsfield and the nurse sat near
her, observing a profound silence lest they
should disturb her. With deep interest,
however, they contemplated the form before
them, so soon to be mingled with its native
dust; and they breathed a fervent aspiration
for the salvation of the immortal spirit still
animating it. At length the invalid changed
her position. Mrs. Beaconsfield hastened to
her, and took her hand.

“You have reposed comfortably my love,”
said she, “and if the face be an index of the
heart, surely your reverie has been sweet.”

“Sweet indeed, unspeakably sweet!” replied
Matilda, every feature beaming with
joy. “Oh Madam! rejoice with me,—
praise the Lord for His goodness to one so
unworthy! He has, at last, touched my rocky
heart,—He has melted it by His love,—He
has forgiven my sins,—Oh precious, precious,
Jesus!”

P6r 167

She sunk back exhausted on the couch,
from which she had half raised herself in
the eagerness of the moment, while bearing
this testimony to the delivering mercy thus
graciously extended to her. A livid paleness
overspread her countenance. She pressed
her hands on her heart, as if some sudden
pang had seized it, and essayed to speak, but
could not;—in an instant a purple torrent
gushed from her mouth,—a few faint sobs
succeeded,—her hands dropped,—her eyes
closed,—and all was over! Matilda had entered
her rest.

At first, the affecting suddenness of this
event, though so long expected, overwhelmed,
Mrs. Beaconsfield; but she was a Christian,
and before the evening closed, she joined
Mrs. Walton in returning thanks to God,
for his gracious appearance in behalf of the
departed, whose dying testimony so evidently
proved that she also had been with Jesus.

Chapter XXII.

Jemima returned home from her interview
so greatly disturbed in mind, that Jonas
Abrahams, could not but perceive it, and
requested to know what had thus affected
her. Jemima hesitated to reply, because of
her promise to Wolfe, but at last, and in Q1r 169
strict confidence, she disclosed to him the
past and present situation of Matilda, and
what had passed at the recent interview.

Though remarkably free from bigotry, and
by no means so great an enemy to the Gentiles
as Jemima, Jonas thought that it was
highly expedient to remove Matilda from
Mrs. Beaconsfield, provided the invalid could
be included to consent to it. He also gave it
as his decided opinion that Iscah should be
apprized of her daughter’s real situation, and
requested to hasten to her. Her interference
would no doubt rescue Matilda from the
hands of Goyim.

Jemima so much approved of this opinion,
that she wrote a minute and urgent letter to
Wolfe, and besought him, by every argument
she could adduce, to break the affair to his
mother, and conduct her to Clifton with as
little delay as possible.

The letter was dispatched next morning
early, Jemima having remained up till after
midnight, engaged in writing it. And it was
arranged by Jonas that she should visit Matilda
in the evening, accompanied by Reuben Vol. II. Q Q1v 170
and offer her an asylum in his house, if she
could be prevailed on to accept it.

The widow and her son set out on what
they considered a meritorious act, and a true
work of mercy, after tea, and reached Mrs.
Beaconsfield’s house as the day was declining.
At that hour, that the windows should
be closed excited no suspicion of the melancholy
truth in Jemima’s mind. That was
deeply absorbed in arranging what she intended
to say to her cousin. She did not
even notice that the knocker was no longer
muffled. Mrs. Walton was crossing the
hall when Jemima and Reuben were admitted.
She received and led them into the
nearest apartment.

Jemima enquired how her cousin was, and
expressed a hope that she was not worse.

“Your cousin is well,” replied Mrs. Walton,
with deep solemnity. “I humbly hope
her spirit is now rejoicing with the just made
perfect.”

Jemima but half comprehended Mrs. Walton’s
words, and she exclaimed hastily,

“Surely nothing has happened! Surely
Matilda—”

Q2r 171

“Is with God,” interrupted Mrs. Walton.
“She expired about an hour since.”

Jemima turned extremely pale at this intelligence,
and, but for the assistance of the
nurse, would have fallen to the ground.
Gushing tears at length came to her relief,
and she wept long and passionately on the
neck of Reuben, whose tears mingled freely
with hers.

Mrs. Walton, good woman as she was,
hardly suffered herself to sympathise with
the distressed Jemima. She remembered, to
her disadvantage, the interview of the preceding
day; besides which, she had not attained
to the truly Christian views of Mrs.
Beaconsfield, respecting the Jews.

When the first agony of her feelings had
a little subsided, Jemima eagerly questioned
Mrs. Walton as to what had been the last
words of her cousin.

“I hope, I hope,” she added, “that she
acknowledged the unity of God in her last
moments. But perhaps she had not time;
her death must have been very sudden.”

Mrs. Walton recapitulated the manner in Q2 Q2v 172
which Matilda had expired, and faithfully
repeated her dying declaration.

A cry of horror burst from Jemima at this
intelligence. The appalling sound, rendered
still more terrific by the solemn stillness that
reigned around, reached Mrs. Beaconsfield,
then just recovered from the first poignancy
of her loss, and she descended to her parlour
to learn its cause.

Jemima recoiled, in unaffected dislike, as
Mrs. Beaconsfield advanced, and was about
to address her in accents of sympathy and
kindness.

“Come, Reuben,” said she, indignantly,
to her son, “this house is no place for us.
Your miserable cousin will have to lament,
throughout eternity, that she ever entered it.
But,” added she, “Gentile testimony is not
to be relied on. Perhaps that malicious
Goya has purposely deceived me.”

Mrs. Walton repeated what she had told
Jemima, in reply to her question, and referred
to Mrs. Beaconsfield for the confirmation
of her statement. Nor would she allow Jemima
to quit them, as she seemed inclined to Q3r 173
do, till she had heard Mrs. Beaconsfield’s
reply.

“You have accused me of falsehood,” said
Mrs. Walton; “I refer you to my lady. At
least hear her answer.”

Jemima stood confounded at this appeal,
and Mrs. Beaconsfield, with a tenderness truly
Christian, though little deserved by the bigoted
Jewess, whose feelings at the late
event this most generous woman entered
into, allowed for, and compassionated, confirmed
Mrs. Walton’s account, in language
so solemn and impressive, that Jemima could
no longer doubt their veracity.

Not aware of the Jewish methods respecting
the dead, Mrs. Beaconsfield asked Jemima
if she wished to look on the departed,
and with all her amiable candour, was surprised
and disgusted by the peculiar manner
in which Jemima declined the offer. She
then informed the widow that she intended
writing to Wolfe immediately, as it would be
necessary to make arrangements for the funeral,
of which she should, if she chose, be
apprised. Jemima declined having any furtherQ3 Q3v 174
communication with Mrs. Beaconsfield,
on this, or any other subject.

“As Mrs. Allenby,” said she haughtily
“chose to make an avowal in her last moments,
that has for ever cut her off from the
holy nation, you may bury her where and
when you think fit. I shall endeavour to
forget that I ever had such a relative!”

She then left the house, accompanied by
her son. As they walked home, Jemima,
whose naturally kind disposition was overpowered
by her superstition, in all that concerned
Judaism, enforced on Reuben’s mind
her former lessons respecting Goyim,—drew
an appalling picture of an apostate’s eternal
misery, and charged him, as he valued a mother’s
blessing, never, on any account, to
have the least communication with Mrs.
Beaconsfield, whom she termed the destroyer
of Matilda’s soul. Reuben, who completely
shared his mother’s bigotry, promised this
readily, and assured her he should always
dislike the Nazarenes for poor Matilda’s sake.

Jonas was shocked to hear of the death of
Matilda, and its manner, for he much respected
Wolfe Levy. He also approved of Q4r 175
Jemima’s behaviour to the subtle Goya, and
her resolution to meddle no farther in it.

“The church-yard is quite good enough
for an apostate,” added he. “May the memory
of such, perish for ever!”

The holydays having now been over more
than a week, Wolfe Levy prepared to leave
Canterbury to engage a house, and make arrangements
for his approaching marriage. At
this period, Jemima’s letter reached him. Its
effect on him was terrible. The idea of his
mother’s anguish when she should know its
contents, completely unnerved him. Filial
love had always been the ruling passion of
his otherwise selfish heart. Deceptive in all
else, in that he was sincere. He had not
feared to sin against his maker,—he had not
hesitated to wrong and defraud his fellow
man,—but to wring the heart of his mother!
—to witness her agony!—He could not
endure it, even in idea,—At that moment
even Rosetta was forgotten,—and, overcome
by the intensity of his feelings, he fell on
the ground in a fainting fit.

The alarm created by the noise Wolfe
made in falling, quickly assembled the family Q4v 176
about him, and, while Iscah hung in maternal
anguish over her son, Rosetta disengaged
from his convulsive grasp the letter of
Jemima.

Rabbi Meyer judging that in this letter,
they should find the cause of Wolfe’s sudden
and unaccountable attack, and waving delicacy,
in his anxiety for his daughter’s welfare,
withdrew with her to learn its contents.
Rosetta, with some difficulty decyphered
them, although JcmimaJemima did not write very
legibly, and the surprised indignation, and
passion of Rabbi Meyer were without
bounds, as he heard of Matilda, and reflected
on the deception of Wolfe. “If he had told
me the truth,” said he angrily. “I could
have passed over the sad circumstance of his
sister’s conduct. But he has wilfully misled
me, and such a deceitful being shall never
call me Father. I charge you Rosetta, if
you value me, to dismiss him from your
heart. He is utterly unworthy of you. I
will pay any penalty, rather than suffer you
to become his wife.”

Rosetta wept, and did not immediately reply;
but she also felt indignant at the deception Q5r 177
of Wolfe, and thought it entirely inexcusable.
And she had always deeply reverenced
her Father.

Rabbi Meyer viewed his daughter in silence
but attentively. He then, after a few
minutes deliberation, desired her to go instantly
and pack a trunk of wearing apparel,
and that without attempting to see either
Iscah or Wolfe.

“Remain in your chamber,” added he,
“until you see me.”

Rosetta awed by the stern and decisive
manner of her father, immediately obeyed
him, without venturing to ask what were his
intentions. The Rabbi then wrote a hasty
letter to a Jewish friend, residing at Dover,
and in less than an hour, Rosetta, under the
protection of a neighbor, a Jewish widow,
left Canterbury in a post chaise, for the
house of Rabbi Meyer’s friend.

While these arrangements were going on,
Rabbi Meyer went not nigh the chamber
of Wolfe. He had recovered the first shock
of Jemima’s letter, but was almost ready to
relapse again, when he understood that it
was in the possession of Rosetta. Iscah was Q5v 178
equally surprised at his agitation, and the
non appearance of the Rabbi, and his daughter,
which she said, seemed very unfeeling.

Wolfe replied not, he sat, pale, and trembling
from uneasy anticipation, and desired
yet feared to know, the effect of the mischievous
letter, as he thought it, on the mind of
Rosetta and her father.

At length, the Rabbi entered the apartment.
His manner was dignified, his aspect
stern, but calm, and Wolfe saw at the first
glance, that his case was already prejudged
and decided.

The Rabbi held in his hand the letter of
Jemima. Placing it on a table near Wolfe,
he took a seat, and in a deliberate manner
briefly recapitulated its contents to the astonished
Iscah; then drawing from his girdle
a large canvas bag, he laid it before Wolfe,
and told him, it contained the sum named as
a forfeiture, in the marriage contract with his
daughter.

“Never!” added he, “will I allow a man
capable of such deception, to receive her
hand.”

Q6r 179

He then requested that Wolfe and his
mother would quit his house as early as possible.

Wolfe was so overpowered by his own
consciousness, his terror on Iscah’s account,
who sat as if petrefied, and neither spoke
nor moved, and the authoritative manner of
the Rabbi, that he could not utter a single
word. At last however, the name of Rosetta
fell from his quivering lip.

“She has left Canterbury,” replied the
Rabbi coldly. “And you will do well, to
follow her example as soon as possible.”

He then quitted the apartment.

Alarmed at the fixed posture, and vacant
gaze of Iscah, Wolfe now hastened to her,
and throwing his arms about her neck, besought
her to be comforted. At first, she
noticed him not, but his warm tears dropping
on her cheek, as in an agony of grief,
he strained her to his throbbing bosom,
seemed at length, to arouse and affect her.
Nevertheless, she did not shed a single tear,
but with a composure that astonished her
son, desired him to acquaint her faithfully,
with every particular respecting Matilda, and
also to read to her, the letter from her neice.

Q6v 180

Wolfe obeyed the commands of his mother
implicitly. She listened attentively,
but made no comment. She frequently,
however, pressed her burning hands against
her temples, and sighed deeply, but her eyes
were tearless.

When the sad account was concluded,
Iscah besought her son to quit the house of
Rabbi Meyer. He was equally anxious to
do so, and, in a short time, they were in
possession of an apartment at an inn, from
whence Wolfe intended proceeding next day,
with his mother, by the nearest route, in a
chaise, to Bristol.

When he had seen his mother quietly accommodated
at the Inn, and intending to
seek rest for the increasing pain in her head,
which she declared was intense, he returned
to Rabbi Meyer, and desired him to
remember he had not accepted the forfeiture.

“Nor will I,” added he with an air of defiance,
“If your daughter is not my wife,
she shall never, while I live, marry any
other man.” And before the Rabbi could
make a reply, he rushed from the house.

R1r 181

Next morning Iscah was evidently so much
worse, that Wolfe wished to delay their journey,
but Iscah would not hear of it, though
fever was glowing in every vein.

Pride, her ruling passion, had been deeply,
and, as the result fully proved, incurably
wounded, by the events of the preceding
day. Her maternal feelings almost equally
powerful, sharpened the arrow and fixed it
in her bosom, to the very shaft. Her anguish
was too great, for the salutary relief of
tears, or violent exclamations, which vent,
while they express, powerful emotions. It
fixed itself on her brain, and soon the effect
of an excitement so torturing began to be
visible.

Wolfe was engaged in settling his bill,
and the chaise was about to draw up to the
door, when a letter was delivered to him,
which had been left at the house of Rabbi
Meyer. It was sealed with black wax, and
he instantly perceived it was from Mrs. Beaconsfield.
Trembling at the idea of what
might be its contents, his first impulse was
to conceal it from his mother, and he was Vol. II. R R1v 182
about to place it in his pocket unopened,
when Iscah caught his arm.

“No more concealments,” she exclaimed,
in a voice almost suffocated with passion,
her eyes flashing wildly, and her whole aspect
assuming a deep crimson hue.” “I insist
on hearing that letter read instantly. I will
know its contents!”

Wolfe had never before seen his mother
in such a state of excitement, and dreading
to add to it, he immediately obeyed her, and
read the cautious and tender, yet faithful
account of Matilda’s departure penned by
Mrs. Beaconsfield.

The effect of this intelligence on the already
overwrought feelings of Iscah were
appalling. Wolfe however, was the greatest
sufferer. His very soul was harrowed up, as
he listened to the fearful ravings of insanity,
uttered by his unconscious mother. His incoherent
reply to Mrs. Beaconsfield, contained
a rambling but affecting detail, of the late
events, and he never once hinted his wishes
respecting the funeral of Matilda, though he
bewailed her death in expressions the most
touching.

R2r 183

As soon as it was practicable, Wolfe removed
his mother to the metropolis. To the
questions put to him, he remained obstinately
silent, even Rabbi Moses could not
win his confidence. He engaged a small
house at the extremity of the Mile end road,
and there he placed his mother, with a
proper attendant. He would not hear of her
being confined in a suitable asylum.

“No!” said he, “as long as I live, and
can work, my mother shall be under my own
view. Henceforward, I devote myself to
her, and may the Blessed One prosper me,
as I deal by my mother!”

When Wolfe Levy’s moving letter, reached
Mrs. Beaconsfield, she sent a copy of it to
his cousin, and receiving no reply, proceeded
to inter the departed Matilda. The funeral
was very plain and private, and the
body was buried in the cemetery adjoining
Hope Chapel, at Clifton. A head stone,
marking the name and age of the deceased,
was the only memorial, Mrs. Beaconsfield
considered necessary.

“Her name is inscribed in the book of
everlasting life, I humbly believe and hope,” R2 R2v 184
said she, “her memorial is cherished in my
heart. A sumptuous monument, would neither
honor the dead, nor profit the living.”

Mrs. Beaconsfield did not quit Clifton so
soon as she had intended, after the demise of
Matilda. A Jewish family engaged the
house she had given up, after that event, to
take up her abode with her friend, and some
particulars she heard respecting them, induced
her not only to protract her departure,
but also to seek their acquaintance. It was
the daughters of Solomon De Lissau, who
had attracted the attention of Mrs. Beaconsfield.
The invalid Sophia, received not any
visiters, but congeniality of sentiment soon
formed a bond of Christian friendship, between
her and Emma De Lissau, which was
only dissolved by the death of that exemplary
woman.

Chapter I.

Natural Religion.

The parents of Margaret Warburton were
respectably situated, in a beautiful village in
the county of Essex, lying between, and
being in the direct road from Dunmow to
Bishop Stortford in Hertfordshire.

Mr. Warburton was a wheelwright, in full R6v 194192
trade; and his wife, a neighbouring farmer’s
daughter, was an industrious, prudent, managing
woman, who aimed to make the most of
her husband’s earnings, that she might enjoy,
the gratification of placing her only son
at a respectable school near the village. At
this school were accommodated boarders,
as well as day scholars, and it was conducted
in a lofty, substantial, brick built
house, situated adjoining the four Ashes,
where the main road branches off to the once
celebrated village of Hatfield Broad Oak.
The village dame’s school was considered, by
Mrs. Warburton, sufficient for the education
of her daughters.

Nothing in nature could be more completely
dissimilar than these daughters, both
in person and mind. Henrietta Warburton,
the eldest of the three children, was a delicate,
fair girl, with flaxen hair, mild blue
eyes, and a transparent complexion, of the
white rose teint. Her temper was meek,
amiable, and retiring; and she was ever
ready to give way to the whims of her lively
brother, or the commands of her imperious
sister; which she was continually called on S1r 193
to do, especially by the latter, who, though
three years younger, early aimed to rule the
gentle, unresisting, Henrietta, with an iron
sway. Nor could the spirited, but kind-
hearted Clement, succeed, at all times, in repelling
the usurpation of the despotic Margaret,
though he, and, indeed, all who knew
the sisters, distinguished Henrietta by their
affectionate preference.

Margaret Warburton was a well-shaped,
sparkling brunette. Her features, cast in the
Roman form, were handsome and expressive,
but large, and almost masculine. Her brilliant
black eyes were penetrating as those of
an hawk, and would have been considered
beautiful, but that they shone in a lustre
far too keen for female loveliness. In temper
and disposition Margaret was despotic,
ambitious, vindictive, and repelling.

Nevertheless, there was one trait in her
otherwise unattractive character, which was
so far useful, that it acted by way of check
on her unamiable qualities, and confined their
outward manifestation chiefly to the domestic
circle, of which she contrived to be the
tyrant. This trait was religion!—at least Vol. II. S S1v 194
such Margaret termed, and really believed it.

Mr. and Mrs. Warburton were conscientious
people, and regular in their attendance
at their parish church, with their children
and household,—observed the usual holidays
in the customary manner,—and were strict in
their appearance at the communion table
when the ordinance of the Lord’s supper was
administered, which, in those parts, was generally
thrice, but sometimes four times, in
each year. These observances, however,
were the extent of their religious worship.
Assembling the household for family prayer,
or attending to closet devotion, never entered
their minds as necessary. But as there was
but one service in the church on the Lord’s
day, Mr. Warburton, when his family returned
from their walks, or neighbourly visits
in the evening, would read a chapter in the
Bible, or a short moral sermon to them,
when he could get them to attend, which
was not always the case.

The religious views of Margaret, however,
were of a much deeper character. She reprobated
what she termed the lukewarmness
of her family; and, in all the self-sufficiency S2r 195
of Pharasaic righteousness, carried her personal
profession to its fullest extent, in external
observances. She read, in her closet, the
church-service daily, morning and evening, together
with the appointed psalms and collect,
—observed saints’ days,—studied “the whole
duty of man”,—and carefully used the week’s
preparation, before she attended the communion.
All this, however, and more, was performed
by Margaret Warburton, and yet her
heart remained untouched, and her life uninfluenced,
by the devotion she thus daily
toiled to observe, and for which she actually
neglected her domestic duties, leaving Henrietta
to officiate for both sisters.

So highly did Margaret value herself for
her superior virtue and godliness, that she
looked down on most of her village associates
with scorn and contempt, and would
have repelled, with high indignation, any
attempt to show her how deeply she was
erring, and how utterly corrupt her heart
was,—that it was yet in its sins,—and that
her vaunted religion was insufficient, worthless,
and entirely unable to stand in the great
day.

S2 S2v 196

It happened, about the time when Margaret
had completed her eighteenth year,
that a respectable family came to reside near
the Warburtons at a small farm. The Wilmington
family consisted of the farmer, his
wife, and a son and daughter. They were
Wesleyan Dissenters, and regularly attended
a small meeting-house at Bishop Stortford;
besides which, after a time, the farmer opened
his house for a prayer-meeting, one evening
in a week, and sometimes allowed itenerant
preachers to deliver a discourse in a
barn he had fitted up with a rude pulpit and
benches, and had it licensed for these occasions.

At first, these proceedings were viewed by
the villagers with a jealous eye, and the Wilmingtons
were annoyed by every species of
persecution and insult, their ignorant neighbours
could devise, or safely execute. But
to all that was said or done, they merely opposed
the most admirable and invincible
mildness and forbearance, until even the
most violent of their antagonists were ashamed
of their own conduct, and subdued by
that of a family so grossly maltreated, from S3r 197
the effervescence of an ignorant, and mistaken
zeal.

The benevolent attention of the Wilmingtons,
to the wants of their poor neighbours,
and their catholic spirit, towards all who
needed their assistance, even though amongst
their most inveterate persecutors, did much
not only to subdue enmity and ignorant prejudice,
but also to win esteem and affection.
By the time they had occupied their farm
twelve months, their weekly lecture was well
attended,—their prayer-meeting crowded, and
many of the villagers, who had hitherto lived
in a state of pitiable carelessness, as it respected
eternal things, were now awakened
from their lethargy, and apparently anxious
to be taught the way of salvation.

The rector of the parish paid but little attention
to these things. He was seldom in
the village, and the church duties chiefly devolved
on a curate, who was ill paid, and of
a character greatly resembling Gallio, the
deputy. It was, therefore, little to be wondered
at, that the church congregation decreased,
while many of the villagers found
their way to the chapel at Bishop Stortford. S3 S3v 198
Happily, at the present day, this evil is on
the decline. Men of God, taught by His
holy spirit, and zealous to disseminate gospel
truth, have been raised up, and graciously
placed in many a village pulpit, so that the
lowly flocks are no longer driven away for
lack of knowledge, and compelled to wander
afar in search of the bread of eternal life.

From the first arrival of this amiable family
at the farm, the Warburtons, (with the
exception of Margaret, who considered dissenters
of all denominations as the very vilest
class of people, and hated them, with all
the virulence of an unregenerate heart), were
on neighbourly terms. In course of time,
and by almost imperceptible degrees, the
Wilmingtons so won on them, that they ventured,
occasionally, to appear at the prayer-
meeting. From this, they proceeded to hear
sometimes, the itinerant preachers, whose
rude, but forcible appeals, strangely affected
their audience; and would even join in the
social worship of the family, when supping
with them, after the evening lecture.

Margaret raved at these proceedings, but
entirely in vain, for her violence and injudicious S4r 199
opposition actually accelerated the consequences
she constantly predicted, and
sought to prevent, but certainly not in a
Christian, or becoming spirit.

About two years from the settlement of
the Wilmingtons at the priory farm, the
wheelwright, and all his family, except Margaret
quitted their parish church, and united
with their dissenting friends at the chapel in
Bishop Stortford.

Family worship was now, for the first time
in their lives, regularly observed by these
converts; and, whatever the creed they now
adopted, the practical fruits of religion was
certainly evidenced by them in an eminent
degree.

Margaret seemed, as the conduct of her
family was distinguished by its increasing religious
fervour, to experience more and more
dislike to it, and did the utmost in her power
to embitter and interrupt their spiritual enjoyments.
Henrietta, in particular, felt the
utmost weight of her displeasure, for Edward
Wilmington had offered himself to her acceptance,
and the parents, on both sides, had
sanctioned his proposal. Nor was this all; S4v 200
Clement admired Edward’s sister Mary, and
though they were, as yet, considered too
young to marry, their youth was made the
only objection.

To see a family so greatly disliked about
to be allied to her so very closely, excited all
the worst feelings of Margaret’s vindictive
nature, and at times she was hardly endurable.
Henrietta, however, whose naturally
meek temper was rendered still more so by
divine grace, opposed only silence and gentleness
to undeserved insult; and she frequently
disarmed Margaret’s violence, by her exemplary
patience and sweetness. But Clement
often told his self-righteous sister, that
the proud and unhumbled tempers she indulged
proved her to be as yet, unacquainted
with true religion, or its sanctifying power,
and therefore not in the least entitled to the
high-sounding title she chose to assume, arrogantly
terming herself “a zealous champion
of the church!”

At such times, Margaret would work herself
up to such paroxysms of ungovernable passion,
that her voice and aspect were wholly unfeminine,
and clearly manifested that her faith was S5r 201
certainly not the purifying faith that works
by love, for it produced neither a change of
heart, nor yielded to this flaming professor
the peaceable fruits of righteousness, love,
and joy in the Holy Spirit.

Chapter II.

Conviction.

The marriage of Henrietta, and her consequent
removal to the Priory farm, was, to
her, a most happy event. Mrs. Warburton,
however, now that Margaret halhad been deprived
of the uncomplaining victim of her
violent temper and persecuting spirit, had
much to endure from her unamiable daughter;
but she bore it patiently, and in the
true spirit of Christian meekness, prayed
that the heart, now so obdurate, and the
temper, now so embittered, might be softened,
changed, and regulated by divine grace.

S6r 203

The zeal Margaret evinced for the church,
and her undisguised contempt, for what she
boldly termed the hypocritical cant of her
methodist family, attracted the notice of
some of the parishioners, who were of her
way of thinking on religious matters, and
they invited her to their houses, in the most
intimate and pressing manner. Margaret
wholly regardless of her duty to parents,
who, she had the presumption to say, had
forgotten theirs towards God, visited this
circle, at their own pleasure, leaving her
share of domestic duties to be performed by
her indulgent mother; and when mildly expostulated
with on the glaring impropriety
of such conduct, her provoking answers,
often drew tears of poignant sorrow from
one parent, and almost overcome the studied
forbearance of the other.

The behaviour of Margaret was frequently
a subject of discussion between the families,
when they met at the Priory farm, and the
Wilmingtons always advised a continuation
of mild and forbearing treatment, in the
hope that it would in time effect a change.

“Let us pray for her,” they would say, S6v 204
“The hand of the Lord, which arrested a
persecuting Saul, and caused him to become
a praying Paul, is not shortened.”

The chief companions of Margaret were
two women, who were so situated that Mrs.
Warburton had always felt a decided objection
to her daughter visiting them frequently.
Her objection, however, was not to either of
them individually considered, for their moral
character was tolerable; and they were orderly
and regular in their attendance at
church, and so far quite on a level with her
daughter. But they filled situations that
necessarily threw them into company, Mrs.
Warburton could not desire Margaret to
mix with; besides which, they were far
too gay and worldly for a simple village girl,
whose parents aimed to live as became the
professors of a pure and sanctifying religion.

Remonstrances however, whether tender
or severe, were wholly in vain, and seemed to
render Margaret more disobedient and refractory.
After a time, therefore, the patient
mother ceased to interpose an ineffectual interference,
and she was allowed to dispose of
herself as she thought proper. Mrs. Alderson, T1r 205
the elder and most respectable of Margaret’s
associates, occupied the situation of
housekeeper, at Bassingbourne Hall, near
Stanstead Mountfitchet. This fine old seat
was, at that period, in its prosperity. But
the atchievements of its last possessor, and
his Lady, may now be seen suspended over
the sides of the communion table in the village
church, (an ancient edifice, well worth
the attention of the antiquary, especially for
its singularly beautiful carved oak font,) and
the noble lodges are almost the only vestiges
left, to denote where Bassingbourne Hall
once flourished.

The whist table was regularly introduced,
every evening, into Mrs. Alderson’s room,
and the upper servants of both sexes, were
allowed to play in their turns. And sometimes,
when the family were absent, Mrs.
Alderson indulged the household, and a chosen
few from the village, with a gay dance
in the servant’s hall.

Such parties were revolting to the feelings
of Margaret’s family; but the society she
was continually liable to meet, when she
visited her other female friend, Mrs. Ellerby, Vol. II. T T1v 206
was much more promiscuous and objectionable,
than the cards and dancing at Bassingbourne
Hall. But Margaret could not be
detered from calling on her very frequently.

Mrs. Ellerby was a lively young woman,
wife of the under forester. They resided at
a house situate on a spot in that beautiful
forest peculiarly attractive, both from its
natural and acquired advantage. A fine
piece of water, having a small but picturesque
island on its center, and three pleasure
boats moored at one end, stretched before
the house, which was a roomy convenient
cottage; but its chief ornament consisted of
a curious apartment, built and arranged by
the late Lady St. John. This apartment
opened on the lawn, leading to the water,
and its furniture, pictures, chandeliers, and
even the fire-grate were composed of grotto-
work, shells, and sea weed tastefully disposed.
To this place, usually called the shell
cottage, gay parties from the adjacent towns
and villages were acustomed to resort for a
day’s pleasure, bringing with them, hampers
of provision, and music, and passed the time
in sailing on the water, or dancing in the T2r 207
smooth forest glades. In some instances,
parties from the metropolis have visited this
charming spot, and a vacant pannel in the
shell-room, is said by the forester’s wife, to
have been owing to a depredation committed
by a town party, who carried off one of the
pictures in its elegant shell frame.

Mrs. Ellerby provided, during the season,
all that was necessary for the accomodation
of these parties, who remunerated her at
their pleasure, for her attention to their enjoyments
and comfort. She delighted to
obtain Margaret’s company on these occasions;
and Mrs. Warburton often heard with
an aching heart, how readily and gaily her
daughter joined in the revelry of these persons,
mostly unknown to her!

At length, however, what neither filial
duty, a sense of propriety, nor the entreaties
of affectionate relatives, could effect, was
produced by a mighty and irresistible power,
which, at once, checked the career of Margaret,
who till then always believed she had
justice and religion on her side, in the continual
family contest; for though she shared
in the hollow enjoyment, or rather excitement,T2 T2v 208
of the card table, and the giddy and
riotous mirth of village dancing, without
scruple, she continued to fulfil with rigid
exactness, all the external duties of the
church; and, with a singular inconsistency,
would read the Psalms and lessons, before
she joined parties, which, even had they
been in themselves profitable or innocent,
ceased to be so, when engaged in contrary
to the avowed wishes, and earnest entreaties,
of her truly indulgent parents.

A very large party came to pass the day
in the lovely month of May at the shell-
house. They brought with them a waggon
loaded with hampers and music, and, as the
nights were moonlight, purposed dancing
until a late hour. As usual, Mrs. Ellerby
sent to request the company of her friend
Margaret, who promised, (notwithstanding
her mother was then very busy, in superintending
her domestic duties and required her
assistance,) to be in the forest by tea time,
and set about the necessary preparations immediately.

On these occasions Mrs. Warburton, generally,
when she had expressed her wishes T3r 209
ceased to interfere. But this time, she felt
an uneasy anticipation, though she knew not
why; and when Margaret left her chamber,
dressed in her gayest and lightest attire, to
join in the expected dance, her mother, looking
at her earnestly for a moment, until her
eyes filled with tears, laid her hand gently
on her daughter’s arm, now decked with a
glittering bracelet, and said, in a mournful
tone,

“Oh, that I could prevail on you, dearest
Margaret, to give up this visit, and remain at
home this evening. Oh that you would, for
once, oblige your mother! Margaret, I beseech
you, comply with me!”

Mrs. Warburton actually sobbed, as she
thus supplicated her daughter; but the obdurate
girl merely replied, in a sarcastic
tone, and with a scornful smile,

“Surely mother, you are more absurd than
common; you cannot seriously expect I
should attend to your idle whims!”

“Alas! I cannot indeed expect any act of
kindness from you, Margaret,” answered Mrs.
Warburton, with a deep sigh.

“But you may from your darling Henrietta;T3 T3v 210
you know she is all duty and goodness,”
replied Margaret, tauntingly.

She then quitted the house, and her weeping
mother, in a manner the most ungracious,
and soon forgot home, amidst the gay
party at the shell cottage.

After remaining on the water until the
chill evening air, so common in May, rendered
it absolutely uncomfortable to most of
the females, who, like Margaret, were very
lightly attired, in anticipation of the rural
ball, the party adjourned to an appropriate
spot at the back of the shell cottage, where
the music was already stationed.

The beautiful, bright, warm day, was succeeded
by an evening not in accordance with
it. The moon was but partially visible
through a veil of thin mist, and a chill and
heavy dew fell fast. Nevertheless, the gay,
young, and thoughtless party, persevered in
dancing long and late; and Margaret was
among the last to decline an amusement by
which she felt so highly gratified.

At length, the time appointed for their return
arrived. The horses were harnessed,
and put to the different vehicles that conveyed T4r 211
the assemblage to the forest, and
Margaret, accompanied by Mrs. Ellerby’s
brother, set out on her way home. She was
extremely heated by the length and violence
of the exercise she had taken; added to
which, her muslin robe was so wet with the
evening dew, that it clung about her, and her
thin dancing shoes, now almost worn through,
were very unfit to walk on the long damp
grass on her way home; but, with her usual
obstinacy, she declined Mrs. Ellerby’s considerate
offer of a cloak and thick shoes, and
proceeded home in this unwise manner.

When she reached home, her indulgent
mother was waiting for her, and had prepared
something warm, lest her unworthy daughter
might have taken cold from the heavy
dew and night air. But Margaret would
not accept of it, merely from a spirit of opposition,
and, with the same motives, chose
to sit up, and partake of some cold food,
though Mrs. Warburton recommended contrary
conduct.

As might have been expected, Margaret
felt languid and unwell next morning. She
would rise, however, but it was not for long; T4v 212
before evening, she was extremely ill, and
the next morning found her under the influence
of a malignant fever.

For some days, the medical attendant of
Margaret could give no decided opinion respecting
her. Her situation, in the interim,
was most pitiable. During the intervals of
delirium, the terrors of death seized her
heart, and filled it with unspeakable anguish.
Her self-delusion faded away as air, at this
trying moment, and she felt herself to be a
wilful transgressor, and that her vaunted religion
in which she trusted, would not bear
the piercing eye of the holy judge, before
whom she shortly expected to appear. The
injustice and violence of her daily conduct
—her disobedience to the best of parents,—
her tyranny to the gentlest and most affectionate
of sisters,—her taunting speeches to a
mother who, nevertheless, attended her infectious
couch with the tenderest and most unremitting
care,—all flashed on her mind.
Awakened conscience, as she lay and revolved
the past, pointed retrospection with the
keenest agony. But chiefly her spiritual
sins rose in dreadful array against her; and T5r 213
the ravings of delirium were less appalling
than the terrific exclamations of despair, extorted
from her in her lucid intervals, under
the anguish of conviction.

In this affecting state, the miserable Margaret
struggled through a fortnight; at the
end of that period, youth, and a naturally
good constitution, gave hope that she might
recover. The greatest bar to it was the
agony of her mind. As she grew weaker,
the violence of its expression abated. But
the powerful conviction of her vileness, and
the insufficiency of her religion, still continued
in full force, though as it sunk deeper
in her wounded heart, she spoke of it less
frequently. Her deeply sympathising friends,
obtained her permission to pray by and read
to her when she was able to attend to the
salutary exercise. They could not, however,
elicit from her what were her feelings during
the hallowed employ, and could, therefore,
only pray and hope that conviction,
thus deep and even appalling, might, in the
Lord’s good time, be graciously permitted to
issue in sincere and saving conversion.