The daily papers bore an almost daily testimony to their munificence. Naturally open-handed, the poor of all creeds found kindly benefactors. On one day, the grandeur of an entertainment to royalty was recorded; and on the next, a few words related a visit of mercy to a condemned cell. At one time, mansions, vieing in architectural beauty with those of our nobility, were described; at another, some great and gracious act of charity was recorded. Entertainments to princes and ambassadors, reviving the glories of the Arabian Nights, were frequent; and galleries, with works of art worthy the magnificence of a Medici, graced their homes. They were awhile Fortune’s chief and most especial favorites. When, in 1793, the old aristocracy of England’s traders fell, as in 1847, and the Bank in one day discounted £4,400,000, their losses amounted but to £50. Prizes, under circumstances little inferior to romance, followed their purchases of lottery-tickets; and they knew, as if by instinct, a bill of exchange with a bad name to it. The brothers had faced the storm of life in their earlier years. Fortune, which crowned their efforts, proved that prosperity had no power to divide them; and when, in the early part of the nineteenth century, Benjamin Goldsmid destroyed himself, the survivor felt the loss so severely, that he never recovered the shock. The death of Benjamin caused no abatement in the benevolence of Abraham Goldsmid; and one who knew him well has written with enthusiasm of his “general philanthropy, his ready munificence, his friendly demeanour, his mild and unassuming manner.” Many anecdotes, singularly illustrative of his kindly feeling, are still remembered. It is stated that, on one occasion, noticing a great depression in the waiter who usually attended him where he dined, he inquired the cause, ascertained that it was pecuniary, gave the astonished man double the amount he required, and refused to listen to the thanks of the recipient. Another story is extant to the same purport. He became acquainted by accident with one of those simple and single-minded country curates, whose poverty was the disgrace, and whose piety was the glory, of the Church of England. This was the man for Abraham Goldsmid at once to appreciate and to benefit. He obtained all the necessary particulars, and in a few weeks a letter was received, which told the curate he had been allotted a share of a new loan. The letter was a mystery to the country clergyman, who placed it on one side, with a confused notion that a hoax was intended. He had not long to wait. The next day brought a second letter, and with it comfort and consolation, in the shape of a large sum which had been realized on the allotment. These things are pleasant to record; and it is doubtful whether the check gave most pleasure to the wealthy Hebrew to write, or the country curate to receive.