A subject apparently less liable to interest a child of my age could hardly be imagined; but from my peculiar associations it did attract my attention. I was curious to know what my father and all the gentlemen were saying about the Jews at these dinners, from which my mother and the ladies were excluded. I was eager to claim my privilege of marching into the dining-room after dinner, and taking my stand beside my father’s elbow; and then I would gradually edge myself on, till I got possession of half his chair, and established a place for my elbow on the table. I remember one day sitting for an hour together, turning from one person to another as each spoke, incapable of comprehending their arguments, but fully understanding the vehemence of their tones, and sympathizing in the varying expression of passion; as to the rest, quite satisfied with making out which speaker was _for_, and which against the Jews. All those who were against them, I considered as my father’s friends; all those who were _for_ them, I called by a common misnomer, or metonymy of the passions, my father’s enemies, because my father was their enemy. The feeling of party spirit, which is caught by children as quickly as it is revealed by men, now combined to strengthen still more and to exasperate my early prepossession. Astonished by the attention with which I had this day listened to all that seemed so unlikely to interest a boy of my age, my father, with a smile and a wink, and a side nod of his head, not meant, I suppose, for me to see, but which I noticed the more, pointed me out to the company, by whom it was unanimously agreed, that my attention was a proof of uncommon abilities, and an early decided taste for public business. Young Lord Mowbray, a boy two years older than myself, a gawkee schoolboy, was present; and had, during this long hour after dinner, manifested sundry symptoms of impatience, and made many vain efforts to get me out of the room. After cracking his nuts and his nut-shells, and thrice cracking the cracked--after suppressing the thick-coming yawns that at last could no longer be suppressed, he had risen, writhed, stretched, and had fairly taken himself out of the room. And now he just peeped in, to see if he could tempt me forth to play. “No, no,” cried my father, “you’ll not get Harrington, he is too deep here in politics--but however, Harrington, my dear boy, ‘tis not _the thing_ for your young companion--go off and play with Mowbray: but stay, first, since you’ve been one among us so long, what have we been talking of?” “The Jews, to be sure, papa.” “Right,” cried my father; “and what about them, my dear?” “Whether they ought to be let to live in England, or any where.” “Right again, that is right in the main,” cried my father; “though that is a larger view of the subject than we took.” “And what reasons did you hear?” said a gentleman in company.