at least not practically aware, of the strong prepossessions which still prevail against us Jews." He then told me that his daughter had passed her childhood chiefly in America, "in a happy part of that

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country, where religious distinctions are scarcely "known-where characters and talents are all suf"ficient to attain advancement-where the Jews "form a respectable part of the community-where, " in most instances, they are liberally educated, many "following the honourable professions of law and "physic with credit and ability, and associating with "the best society that country affords. Living in retired village, her father's the only family of "Israelites who resided in or near it, all her juvenile friendships and attachments had been formed with "those of different persuasions; yet each had looked upon the variations of the other as things of course, or rather as things which do not affect the moral "character-differences which take place in every society."—" My daughter was, therefore, ill prepared," said Mr. Montenero, "for European prepossessions; and with her feeling heart and strong affection for those she loves, no wonder that she has often suffered, especially on my account, since we came to England; and she has become, to a fault, tender and susceptible on this point."

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I could not admit that there was any fault on her part; but I regretted that England should be numbered among the countries subject to such prejudices. I hoped, I added, that such illiberality was now confined to the vulgar, that is, the ill-educated and the ill-informed.

The well-educated and well informed, he answered, were, of course, always the most liberal, and were usually the same in all countries. He begged pardon if he had expressed himself too generally with respect to England. It was the common fault of strangers and foreigners to generalize too quickly, and to judge precipitately of the whole of a community from a part. The fact was, that he had, by the business which brought him to London, been unfortunately thrown among some vulgar rich of contracted minds, who, though they were, as he was willing to believe, essentially good and good-natured persons, had made his Berenice suffer sometimes more than they could imagine by their want of delicacy, and want of toleration.

As Mr. Montenero spoke these words, the image of vulgar, ordering Mrs. Coates-that image which had persecuted me half the night, by ever obtruding between me and the fair Jewess-rose again full in my view. I settled immediately, that it was she and her tribe of Issys, and Cecys, and Hennys, and Queeneys, were "the vulgar rich" to whom Mr. Montenero alluded. I warmly expressed my indignation against those who could have been so brutal as to make miss Montenero suffer by their vile prejudices.

"Brutal," Mr. Montenero repeated, smiling at my warmth," is too strong an expression: there was no brutality in the case. I must have expressed myself ill to give rise to such an idea. There was only a little want of consideration for the feelings of others a little want of liberality."

Even so I could not bear the thought that miss Montenero should have been, on her first arrival in England, thrown among persons who might give her quite a false idea of the English, and a dislike to the country.

"There is no danger of that sort," he replied. "Had she been disposed to judge so rashly and uncharitably, the humane and polite attentions she met with last night from a gentlemen who was an utter stranger to her, and who could only know that she was a foreigner in want of assistance, must have been to her at once conviction and reproof." (I bowed, delighted with Mr. Montenero and with myself.) "But I hope and believe," continued he, "that my Berenice is not disposed to form uncharitable judg ments either of individuals or nations; especially not of the English, of whom she has, from their history and literature, with which we are not wholly unacquainted, conceived the highest ideas."

I bowed again, thoughnot quite so much delighted with this general compliment to my nation as by that peculiar to myself. I expressed my hopes that the English would justify this favourable prepossession, and that on farther acquaintance with different societies in London, Mr. and miss Montenero would find, that among the higher classes in this country there is no want of liberality of opinion, and certainly no want of delicacy of sentiment and manner-no want of attention to the feelings of those who are of a different persuasion from ourselves. Just at this moment my mother entered the room. Advancing towards Mr. Montenero, she said, with a gracious

smile, "You need not introduce us to each other, my dear Harrington, for I am sure that I have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Clive, from India."

"Mr. Montenero, from America, ma'am."

« Mr. Montenero! I am happy to have the honour -the pleasure-I am very happy

My mother's politeness struggled against truth; but whilst I feared that Mr. Montenero's penetration would discern that there was no pleasure in the honour, a polite inquiry followed concerning miss Montenero's indisposition. Then, after an ineffectual effort to resume the ease and cordiality of her manner, my mother leaned back languidly on the sofa, and endeavoured to account for the cloud which settled on her brow by adverting to the sleepless night she had passed, and to the fears of an impending headach; assuring Mr. Montenero at the same time that society and conversation were always of service to her. I was particularly anxious to detain, and to draw him out before my mother, because I felt persuaded that his politeness of manner, and his style of conversation, would counteract any presentiment or prejudice she had conceived against him and his race. He seemed to lend himself to my views, and with benevolent politeness exerted himself to entertain my mother. A Don Quixote was on the table, in which there were some good prints, and from these he took occasion to give us many amusing and interesting accounts of Spain, where he had passed the early part of his life. From Don Quixote to Gil Blas-to the duc de Lerma-to the tower of Segovia -to the Inquisition-to the Spanish palaces and

Moorish antiquities, he let me lead him backwards and forwards as I pleased. My mother was very fond of some of the old Spanish ballads and Moorish romances: I led to the Rio Verde, and the fair Zaida, and the Moor Alcanzor, with whom both in their Moorish and English dress Mr. Montenero was well acquainted, and of whom he was enthusiastically fond.

My mother was fond of painting: I asked some questions concerning the Spanish painters, particularly about Murillo; of one of his pictures we had a copy, and my mother had often wished to see the original. Mr. Montenero said he was happy in having it in his power to gratify her wish; he possessed the original of this picture. But few of Murillo's paintings had at this time found their way out of Spain ; national and regal pride had preserved them with jealous care; but Mr. Montenero had inherited some of Murillo's master-pieces. These, and a small but valuable collection of pictures which he had been many years in forming, were now in England: they were not yet arranged as he could wish, but an apartment was preparing for them; and, in the mean time, he should be happy to have the honour of showing them to us and to any of our friends. He particularly addressed himself to my mother; she replied in those general terms of acquiescence and gratitude which are used when there is no real intention to accept an invitation, but yet a wish to avoid such an absolute refusal as should appear ill-bred. I, on the contrary, sincerely eager to accept the offered favour, fixed instantly the time, and the soonest possible. I named