To the true Jew there is no happier hour than that of a calm Sabbath eve. Having rid himself of the turmoil of his daily labour, he dons his best garb to meet the Bride of the Sabbath. The Friday night supper is in itself an institution; and the ceremonial candles, the sweet wine and cloth-covered bread, serve as links to unite him to his brethren throughout the world. So felt Dr. Engelmacher, as with his velvet cap well set on his head, he intoned the Hebrew grace. To him the Sabbath had but one disadvantage: he could not smoke, for as to touch fire is forbidden, his well-beloved briar had to be laid aside until on the following evening three stars appeared in the sky. But he made the sacrifice cheerfully, even if he sometimes grumbled about it to his wife. His motto with regard to his religion was “_Noblesse oblige._” The more was it to be appreciated in that it cost something to be a Jew. “Your wife is a picture!” he exclaimed to his guest, when a little while later Patricia, on the plea of fatigue, excused herself and retired to rest. “Himmel! what eyes! One can look right through them to her soul. But she is a thorough Englishwoman. How likes she the foreign life?” “Very well, I think,” Montella replied, with a contented smile. “She would make herself happy anywhere with me; she is only unhappy when she thinks she disappoints me in not doing the proper thing in accordance with Jewish law.” “Then she is conscientious?” “Yes, very; it is her nature. She is the sort of girl who would be happy in any country and under any conditions so long as she thought she was doing the right thing. She is the dearest little woman in the world!” “Little, do you call her?” said Mrs. Engelmacher, who was short and plump. “_Um Gotteswillen_, if she is little, I must be a pigmy. She is tall and graceful, such as one reads of. If I were a man I should be proud of such a wife—eh, Max?” “Ach well, perhaps.” The good doctor pinched her cheek affectionately, knowing what she desired. “For myself I prefer a small wife, because she takes up less room in a house, and you can put her in your pocket if there is nowhere else for her to go. Besides, I like to see a dear Yiddishë _ponim_[11] at my side. It would not do for us all to fall in love with fair and beautiful Christians. Where would Judaism be?” Footnote 11: Countenance. He laughed heartily, and so did Montella, who was too sensible to take offence. And so the evening passed, enlivened by anecdotes and jokes, until Mrs. Engelmacher also said good-night. Left to themselves, the two men entered upon a more serious conversation, for in connection with the Rabbinical faction there was much to be discussed. Ben Yetzel had openly declared antagonism towards any kind of reform, and in doing so had practically thrown down the glove.