soul, by the perversity with which every one in our house opposed or
contemned that purpose. One morning, when I had my letter and my hat in my
hand, I met my father, who after looking at the direction of the letter,
and hearing that I was going on a visit to a Spanish Jew, asked what
business upon earth I could have with a Jew--cursed the whole race--
rejoiced that he had five-and-twenty years ago voted against their
naturalization in England, and ended as he began, by wondering what in the
name of Heaven could make me scrape acquaintance with such fellows. When,
in reply, I mentioned my friend, Mr. Israel Lyons, and the high character
he had drawn of Mr. Montenero, my father laughed, saying that he would
answer for it my friend Israel was not an Israelite without guile; for that
was a description of Israelite he had never yet seen, and he had seen a
confounded deal of the world. He decided that my accomplished Spanish Jew
would prove an adventurer, and he advised me, a young man, heir to a good
English fortune, to keep out of his foreign clutches: in short, he stuck to
the advice he gave me, and only wished I would stick to the promise I gave
him, when I was ten years old, to have _no dealings with the Jews_. It was
in vain that I endeavoured to give my explanation of the word _dealings_.
My father's temper, naturally positive, had, I observed, become, as he
advanced in years, much more dogmatic and intolerant. I avoided
contradicting his assertions; but I determined to pursue my own course in a
matter where there could be nothing really wrong or improper. That morning,
however, I must, I perceived, as in duty bound, sacrifice to my father; he
took me under the arm, and carried me away to introduce me to some
commonplace member of parliament, who, as he assured me, was a much fitter
and more profitable acquaintance for me than any member of the synagogue
could possibly be.

The next morning, when, firm to my purpose, I was sallying forth, my
mother, with a face of tender expostulation and alarm, stopped me, and