“The common people felt a superstitious dread of me: the mothers charged their children to keep out of my way; and if I met them in the streets, they ran away and hid themselves. “You may think, sir, I was not happy. I grew melancholy; and my melancholy countenance, they said, was a proof that I was what I was said to be. I was ashamed to show my face. I lost all relish for my food, and began to pine away. My master noticed it, and he was sorry for me; he took my part, and spoke to the young lord, who thereupon grew angry, and high words passed; the young lord cursed at my master for an insolent Jew dog. As to me, his lordship swore that he knew me from a boy; that he had known enough of my tricks, and that of course for that I must bear him malice; and he vowed I should not bear it to him for nothing. “From that day there was a party raised against us in the garrison. Lord Mowbray’s soldiers of course took his part; and those who were most his favourites abused us the most. They never passed our store any day without taunt and insult; ever repeating the names their colonel had given me. It was hard to stand still and mute, and bear every thing, without reply. But I was determined not to bring my master into any quarrel, so I bore all. Presently the time came when there was great distress for provisions in the garrison; then the cry against the Jews was terrible: but I do not wish to say more of what followed than is necessary to my own story. You must have heard, sir, of the riot at Gibraltar, the night when the soldiery broke into the spirit stores?” I had read accounts of some such thing in the newspapers of the day; I had heard of excesses committed by the soldiery, who were enraged against the Jew merchants; and I recollected some story [Footnote: Drinkwater’s Siege of Gibraltar.] of the soldiers having roasted a pig before a Jew’s door, with a fire made of the Jew’s own cinnamon. “That fire, sir,” said Jacob, “was made before our door: it was kindled by a party of Lord Mowbray’s soldiers, who, madly intoxicated with the spirits they had taken from the stores, came in the middle of that dreadful night to our house, and with horrible shouts, called upon my master to give up to them the _Wandering Jew_. My master refusing to do this, they burst open his house, pillaged, wasted, destroyed, and burnt all before our eyes! We lost every thing! I do not mean to say _we--I_, poor Jacob, had little to lose. It is not of that, though it was my all, it is not of that I speak--but my master! From a rich man in one hour he became a beggar! The fruit of all his labour lost--nothing left for his wife or children! I never can forget his face of despair by that fire-light. I think I see it now! He did not recover it, sir,--he died of a broken heart. He was the best and kindest of masters to me. And can you wonder now, Mr. Harrington, or do you blame Jacob, that he could not look upon that lord with a pleased eye, nor smile when he saw him again?”