Retracing our steps, we followed a narrow alley, on whose rough pavement our lantern threw a flickering light, and came to a dwelling occupied by two families. In a small room there lived a poor but industrious Jew and his wife, whose inability to keep the Passover alone induced him to invite to his abode a widow and her two daughters. Expressing surprise at her absence from home on that important festival night, the kind-hearted Jew reminded me of the provision of the paschal law that, “if the household be too little for the lamb, let him and his neighbor next unto his house take it according to the number of the souls.”[244] In the adjoining room lived the banker’s clerk, who explained why his master did not receive us. Unwilling to allow a stranger to see the immense amount of gold and silver in his possession, his cautiousness was the reason assigned for the seeming discourtesy, as his external poverty must be the safeguard of his valuable possessions. Restrained by no such fears, the clerk received us with great cordiality. His sons and daughters, and all his grandchildren, had gathered beneath the parental roof, and, forgetting Israel’s ancient sorrows and present misfortunes, they gave themselves up to the freedom and unbounded joy of home. They laughed and talked, sang and shouted, ate and drank, as their emotions rose or appetite demanded. The day succeeding Good Friday was the Jewish Sabbath, and was a “high day” with the Hebrews. Hastening to their large plain synagogue, I found them already thronging their altars. _En route_ I met the high-priest, accompanied by his two sons, successors to his priestly office. His bearing was noble, his face calm and intelligent; and his lofty checkered turban and flowing robes of yellow Syrian cloth imparted to him an air of dignity and rendered him an object of attraction. Whatever may be their reputed poverty, those who crowded the synagogue were well attired. Behind a lattice-work the Jewesses were engaged in their devotions, while the men occupied the centre of the edifice. Most of the latter were aged, and wore an intelligent countenance; but there was one whose fiendish aspect and quarrelsome manner recalled the rabble whose cry against the Innocent was, “Crucify him! crucify him!” Nature had qualified him for an executioner, and his depravity had fitted him for the worst of deeds. He was a short, thick-set, powerful man, his face round and compact, his nose broad and flat, his mouth large and compressed, his eyes black, and burning with rage. Displeased at every person in his presence, he cursed each who passed him, and was the terror of the old men, who dreaded his fury. His ugly face haunts my memory still. He was possessed. He represents the murderers of our Lord. At the door stood two venerable Jews, one holding a lemon and the other a herb, and, as the people came out, they kissed the one and smelled the other.