The evening was fine. He and Rachel were sitting in the parlour, with the intermediate door open. Aaron was smoking a handsome silver-mounted pipe and making up his accounts, while his wife was busy with her needle. Satan could never have put anything in the shape of mischief in the way of these two pairs of industrious hands, for they were never idle, except during the Sabbath and the fasts and holydays, and then it was not idleness, but rest, Divinely ordained. The silver-mounted pipe was one of Aaron's most precious possessions, it being his beloved wife's gift to him on his last birthday. He would not have sold it for ten times its weight in gold. Rachel often held a light to it after it was filled, and Aaron, with an affectionate smile, would kiss her white hand in acknowledgment of the service. There are trifling memorials which are almost human in their influence, and in the tender thoughts they inspire. At peace with the world and with themselves, Aaron and his wife conversed happily as they worked; but malignant influences were at work, of which they were soon to feel the shock. Aaron had put his account books in the safe, and was turning the key, when the sound of loud voices outside his shop reached their ears. The voices were those of children, male and female, who were exercising their lungs in bass, treble, and falsetto. Only one word did they utter. "Jew! Jew! Jew!" Rachel started up in alarm, her hand at her heart. Her face was white, her limbs were trembling. "Jew! Jew! Jew!" Aaron put the key of the safe in his pocket, and laid down his pipe. His countenance was not troubled, but his brows were puckered. "Jew! Jew! Jew!" "It is wicked! it is wicked!" cried Rachel, wringing her hands. "Oh, how can they be so cruel!" Aaron's countenance instantly cleared. He had to think, to act, for her as well as for himself. With fond endearments he endeavoured to soothe her; but her agitation was profound, and while these cries of implied opprobrium continued she could not school herself to calmness. Not for herself did she fear; it was against her dear, her honoured husband that this wicked demonstration was made, and she dreaded that he would be subjected to violence. Stories of past oppressions, accounts she had read in the newspapers of Jew-baiting in other countries, flashed into her mind. To her perturbed senses the voices seemed to proceed from men and women; to Aaron's clearer senses they were the voices of children, and he divined the source of the insult. Rachel sobbed upon his breast, and clasped him close to protect him.