Gomorrah; and wrung his withered hands as he denounced the sins of the chosen race, and deplored the vengeance of Jehovah. During his illness Beniamina attended him faithfully, and when his fits of excitement came on, she would praj by him, or read to him from a Bible lent to her by Dr. Veit, till he was soothed to peace, and passed into a tranquil and almost happy state.
The good physician had given an asylum in his house to those unfortunate individuals; and his son, the young artist, sat whole days with Benjamina, sharing in her watchful care of the aged invalid. Often, when Benjamina had read to the old man till he went to sleep, and when she then sat by his bedside, with the sacred volume in her hand, while he seemed to smile upon her in his dreams, Veit would take up his pencil, and sketch them together. A new light seemed to beam on Benjamina's soul, partly from what she read to her grandfather, and partly from her conversation with the amiable artist about the holy book which contained the foundation of her faith and of his.
One day Veit came home with his arm in a sling, and gave out that he had hurt it by a fall. But he had found it necessary to chastise the two young fops, who had in vain waited for him at the appointed place of meeting near the Obelisk, the morning that he had promised to be there. He had been unable to go that morning, on account of his guests; and the young men had boasted so much of their own prowess, and sneered so at his failure on the occasion, that he determined to lower the tone of their self-satisfaction, and effectually did so by placing them both in a condition to require the care of a surgeon for six weeks at least. The duels had been fought with swords, and though Veit's wound was but slight, it was some days before he could make use of his pencil. Benjamina suspected what had taken place, and blessed him in her heart for conduct which she deemed so noble and so delicate.
The old Jewish rabbi, in the mean time, was daily recovering. What Veit felt for the young Jewess was no longer a secret to himself, and she had not failed to perceive his sentiments, which were betrayed by a thousand little affectionate acts, by the tones of his voice, and by his eloquent looks. She had liked and admired him from the first time that she had seen him; but since the evening that he had so warmly taken the part of her poor grandfather, since he had continued to show such generous kindness to them both, her grateful heart had learned almost to worship him. But neither of them had yet expressed in words what neither could any longer doubt in regard to themselves, or each other.
Several weeks had now passed. The persecution of the Jews had ceased; all was quiet in Hamburg, and the people of that persuasion could venture into the streets without fear of being hooted at, or ill-treated. But the newspapers told how the same ill-will against the Jews had evinced itself in other places; and from Copenhagen, and many other towns in Denmark, came accounts of similar shameful scenes.
Philip Moses at length arose from his sick bed, but his steps were feeble and tottering. His countenance was less stern, and less petrified, as it were, than formerly; a more subdued and gentler spirit seemed to animate him; yet he still adhered so much to his old feelings, as to lament deeply that it was to Christians he owed his dear Benjamina's safety, and the preservation of his own life.
His son Samuel, the rich jeweller, had during this time, in conse-
