Mr. Montenero and Berenice were preparing to go to a villa in Surrey, which he had just purchased; but they apprehended no danger for themselves, as they were inoffensive strangers, totally unconnected with party or politics. The fury of the mob had hitherto been directed chiefly against papists, or persons supposed to favour their cause. The very day before Mr. Montenero was to leave town, without any conceivable reason, suddenly a cry was raised against the Jews: unfortunately, Jews rhymed to shoes: these words were hitched into a rhyme, and the cry was, “_No Jews, no wooden shoes_!” Thus, without any natural, civil, religious, moral, or political connexion, the poor Jews came in remainder to the ancient anti-Gallican antipathy felt by English feet and English fancies against the French wooden shoes. Among the London populace, however, the Jews had a respectable body of friends, female friends of noted influence in a mob--the orange-women--who were most of them bound by gratitude to certain opulent Jews. It was then, and I believe it still continues to be, a customary mode of charity with the Jews to purchase and distribute large quantities of oranges among the retail sellers, whether Jews or Christians. The orange-women were thus become their staunch friends. One of them in particular, a warm-hearted Irishwoman, whose barrow had, during the whole season, been continually replenished by Mr. Montenero’s bounty, and by Jacob’s punctual care, now took her station on the steps of Mr. Montenero’s house; she watched her opportunity, and when she saw _the master_ appear in the hall, she left her barrow in charge with her boy, came up the steps, walked in, and addressed herself to him thus, in a dialect and tone as new, almost to me, as they seemed to be to Mr. Montenero.