twopence? 'Tis wonderful how much your thoroughbred Jew will do and suffer
for gain. We poor good Christians could never do as much now--could we any
soul of us, think you, Jacob?"

"Yes," replied Jacob, "I think you _could_, I think you _would."_

Loud scornful laughter from our party interrupted him; he waited calmly
till it was over, and then continued, "Every soul of you good Christians
would, I think, do as much for a father, if he were in want and dying, as
mine is." There was a silence for the moment: we were all, I believe,
struck, or touched, except Mowbray, who, unembarrassed by feeling, went on
with the same levity of tone as before: "A father in want! Are you sure now
he is not a father of straw, Jacob, set up for the nonce, to move the
compassion of the generous public? Well, I've little faith, but I've some
charity--here's a halfpenny for your father, to begin with."

"Whilst I live, my father shall ask no charity, I hope," said the son,
retreating from the insulting alms which Mowbray still proffered.

"Why now, Jacob, that's bad acting, out o' character, Jacob, my Jew; for
when did any son of Israel, any one of your tribe, or your twelve tribes,
despise a farthing they could get honestly or dishonestly? Now this is a
halfpenny--a good halfpenny. Come, Jacob, take it--don't be too proud--
pocket the affront--consider it's for your father, not for yourself--you
said you'd do much for your father, Jacob."

Jacob's countenance continued rigidly calm, except some little convulsive
twitches about the mouth.

"Spare him, Mowbray," whispered I, pulling back Mowbray's arm; "Jew as he