“‘Ikey of my heart! it shtands at 35 premium.’
“‘It does! it does! my mattening turtle-tove! Miriam of my poozum, you will be tenter mit de old man. I feel like a leetel shild. I vould veep and pour out gold in your lap, my yellow puttercup.’
“‘Do not veep, my Ikey—but ish it not funny, now? I vood have dat leetel ring—because, you know, it would come from you! Are the shtones real, Ikey—you would not tesheive your trusting Miriam?’
“These sentences had, of course, only fallen on my ear in a fragmentary way, as the enamoured couple swept past me in the dance. With the last words they stopped just in front of me, and the Wanderer drew from his gnarled finger a diamond ring, which he handed to the fair-haired Miriam, with the remark that it was worth eight hundred pounds. The lady put it to her lips in, as I supposed, graceful acknowledgment of the generosity of her aged lover. It was not so. I found that, by the application of her tongue to the gems, this invaluable young person was able in a moment to make a shrewd guess whether the diamonds were real or fictitious. The result of the test seemed to be satisfactory, for the tender Miriam’s eyes swam with affection whilst she pronounced the jewels to be ‘all right,’ adding that she doted on the dear old man with all the fresh warmth of her ingenuous and virgin heart. The Wanderer, overwhelmed with this proof of the young lady’s disinterested affection, blubbered like a child, and I almost feared that he would proceed to bless her in true patriarchal fashion. It was high time for me to interfere, so I tapped him on the shoulder, and said:
“‘Wanderer! what was it you told me by the river’s edge to-night whilst the stream flowed on? Such folly as yours might be excusable in ordinary men, but you have had 266 warnings. Wretched man, is all experience thrown away? There will be a terrible to-morrow to the frenzy of to-night.’
“In place of evincing any gratitude for my well-timed interference, the Jew turned on me with the fury of a wild beast at bay, and poured forth on my devoted head all the choicest vituperations of his picturesque vocabulary. The gentle Miriam called me ‘a nashty man,’ adding that I was but as dirt in the highway—indeed, I am not sure that she did not make use of a still more forcible expression. She would stamp upon me—she would tear my eyes out, and carry them to the ravens in Leadenhall Market. The Angel had become a Fury; but the Wanderer did not draw from the fact the necessary inference for his own security. At last he turned round in an emphatic way, and whispered some words, which I could not catch, in the ears of the bystanders. Was he giving instructions to have me conducted to the nearest pump? For the anticipated ducking I cared but little; but if I was forcibly torn away from his presence, what became of my chances of solving the great Caroline enigma—the sole object of my life? Well, if they attack me I suppose I must defend myself; but I am sadly outnumbered, and it seem just possible that some of the hook-nosed, beetle-browed, glass-eyed men around me are honorary members of the Prize Ring.
“To my great surprise I found, in place of the anticipated attack, a greeting from the crowd, who had gathered round me with so warm an interest that I was at a loss to comprehend its meaning. Every one would shake hands with me—the ladies claimed me as their partner for the ensuing dance—the gentlemen thrust upon me offers of liquor to an unlimited amount. Whatever may have been the words pronounced by the Wanderer, he had evidently succeeded in investing me with the character of an illustrious stranger—unless, indeed, all this seeming kindness was a mere mockery, and a prelude to violence. I knew not what to say; but at length threw myself on the protection of a portly Jewess covered with gold ornaments, who seemed to exercise some kind of authority amongst the crowd. I offered her my arm, which she accepted, and led me away to a distant part of the room, where six young ladies were standing together, of various degrees of corpulence, but all showily dressed—all covered with gold rings and collars, and all with the same keen, eager, Jewish look. To them, after a preliminary whisper from their mother, I was successively presented—Leah, Salome, Esther, Miriam, Sarah, and the little Keziah. How yellow and luscious they were!—how they fawned upon me, and flattered me—and pawed me! It was a similar scene to that which occurs in a West-End ballroom when a young Baronet, with a well-ascertained £20,000 per annum, and family diamonds, trusts himself amidst its fascinations—but in a grosser and more natural form. It was clear to me that there was some mistake—and the more so when the amiable lady who had contributed these six fair creatures to the common stock of humanity informed me, with a fat smile, ‘that her coot man Ephraim—Ephraim Moss—who was in my line, was eager to make my acquaintance, and to admit me to the joys of his family circle. There were pesides her three sons—Aaron, and Joseph, and Benjamin, who were panting to be friends with me!’ Whatever doubts I might have entertained as to the pursuits or amusements of many of the gentlemen present, there could be none that these three young gentlemen, either professionally or for their diversion, entertained habitual relations with the P. R. The gristle of Aaron’s portentous nose had been well smashed on to his face—Joseph Moss had lost one eye in his martial struggles—and so many of Benjamin’s teeth had been knocked down his throat, that his speech amounted to little more than a kind of slobbering whistle. The three brothers were short and bow-legged—and the biceps muscle in each was most formidably developed. I received from them three friendly but terrible grasps, as the result of which my right arm was actually paralysed. What could it all mean? In vain I protested that, however gratified I felt by the attention of this amiable family, I was quite unconscious of doing or being anything which gave me a right to their kindness. It was of no use. Joseph winked at me with his one eye—Aaron put his finger to his broken nose, and Benjamin standing in the attitude of a bull-dog ready for work, whistled out ‘I was shly—werry shly