that it promotes good fellowship, breeds good feeling, and draws closer the domestic ties which so strongly distinguish the race. Innocent jest is encouraged, it is really as if it were a duty that every one shall be in a holiday humour. The subjects of conversation are of a cheerful nature, scandal is avoided, the tenderer feelings are brought into play. Scrupulous attention is paid to cleanliness, young and old attire themselves in their best. When we appear before the Sovereign we make ourselves resplendent; so does the Jew when he appears before the King of heaven and earth. On such occasions slovenliness would be a crime. It is not only the outer man that is attended to; the choicest special Jewish dishes are prepared; there is no stint, plenty abounds, and friends are gladly welcomed, and invited to partake; everything is done that can contribute to harmony and content. Young people bill and coo, and their elders look on with approving eyes. These are the golden hours of love's young dream. "It does my heart good," said Madame Levi, laughing heartily at one of Aaron's jokes, "to be among our own people again." "Come often, come often," said Aaron Cohen. "You and yours will always be welcome." The meal consisted of coffee, Passover cakes, fresh butter, and fried and stewed fish. Nothing could be more tempting to the eye than the large dish of stewed fish, with its thick yellow sauce of egg and lemon, and nothing more tempting to the palate, unless it were the fried fish, with its skin nicely browned, and cooked in such a way as to bring out the full sweetness of the flesh. "We have the advantage of the Gentile," chuckled Aaron, who always took fried fish for his first course, and stewed for his second. "We know how to fry fish. It is strange that in all these thousands of years he has not discovered the simple secret." "I have not tasted such stewed fish for I don't know how many years," observed Madame Levi, who had just been assisted to a second helping. "Mrs. Cohen fries fish beautifully," said Aaron, "but her stewed fish is a marvel." "That is the way my husband always speaks of me," said Rachel, with an affectionate smile. "He does not believe I have a fault." "A woman who cooks fish as she does," said Aaron, oracularly, "cannot have a fault; she is a perfect woman. She is a glory and an honour to her sex. Again I assert, her stewed fish is a marvel." "He forgets," said Rachel sweetly, to her guests, "that I have to trust others." "My dear," persisted Aaron, "you stand by and direct. A victorious general does not rush into the battle; he stands aside, and gives his orders. With my own eyes I saw you squeeze the lemons; with my own eyes I saw you mix the batter; each slice of fish passed through your hands before it was put into the pan and saucepan. You know, Madame Levi, how important it is that the fish should be properly dried before it goes through the ordeal of fire."