The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, November 30, 1878, Image 2

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

JEW; Genie & Christian, OR r HE CURSE OF MONEY. THE TEtCHIHGS OFTHE N1ZAREHE AN IMASWAAV STUDY OF GREEDS. CHAPTER L Over holy Jerusalem hovered darkness, the darkness of but few hours. wearing out the long eastern day and bearing in its womb the volup tuous eastern morn. The skv was still and mournful; not a star to be eeen;not the slightest break in its somber hue; on earth lay Jerusalem above its surrounding low valleys, like a city to be seen by the world, harboring the holy plans of many creeds. The scene was shrouded from the eye of man, buried in the earth’s natural at mosphere—this eastern scene, with its long har rowing history, its revolution of people and ev olutions of creeds; its own grind life of centu ries. The clash of arms, the groans of men, the sobs of women, the cries of children, the voices of angels, the prayers of apostles, and the dying words of the Savior; all swam in indistinct spir itual essence around; the night was heavy with them, while the city was lost in the inanity of its present helpless condition. The atmosphere quivered and heaved, some thing disturbed it; its somberness became dens er, but on a sudden it expanded; another influ ence separated its gaseous atoms, lifted its heavy masses and woke from transient rest the creatures of the air; through space swam sounds, indistinot and tenative—like coming life they came twittering upon the stillness, while the gases, rarified by a stronger power still, became lighter and rose over the town, over the valleys, over the hills, over Kedron, over the Mount of Olivet, and while in the east appeared one streak of the great sun's light, another—one more— with loud tones awoke the earth, and in roseate dazzling splendor swam the scene. The day was horn in eastern fashion, strong, vivid and quick; on the Mount rested its flushed cheek with caressing gestures, lighting up the figure of a man. Entranced he stood, his face turned upward to the fleecy vapors, his arms outstretch ed to embrace the great golden, heavenly, life- giver, his eyes starting from their sockets to see the earth’s sun reigning triumphant andglowing. A young man be was, clad in half eastern cos tume; his h ad was bared, the long wavy locks bung over his shoulders, his face was very hand some according to the eastern type, symmetri cal in feature, spiritual in expression—a type of a race that was gone—buried below there in the entrails of that ground on which he and Je- usalem stood. From the folds cf his dress the man took a book, kissed it, and read softly some pages; he returned it to its resting place and sat down. ‘Ah, beautiful home of man, sweet earth, revolv ing planet of the universe,’ he murmured, ‘why cannot some of thy highest developed creatures walk thy crust, satisfied that they exist, adoring the Creator! Why should all be engaged in the strife of individual interests ? Why might not one be ready to contemplate merely, raising his inner self beyond all human love, all human desires ? Let tbe body be clad and be fed simp ly and plain, and let the mind be wrapped in ever-renewed extacies at tbe creative idea ? Cre ator, grant me such life. I ask no other; let my millions increase, I need them not; let my lands flourish, I tread them not; let the world ask for me, I need it not,’—in his exoitement he rose, ‘I am enough to myself, asking but one thing, to keep myself undefiled from man’s desires, holy and chaste before Thee!’ He took some plain white bread from his pocket, a few dried dates and a flask of milk. He ate and drank, and laid down on the mount, while tbe sun began to ride higher and higher in the heavens. Evidently he had watched all ni ght, for fatigue overcame him and he fell asleep. An hour later he woke; the sky had lost some of its gorgeous brightness and was a little over cast. Light grey flakes of earth-moisture had ascended and gathered overhead in cloudy mass es, hanging above Olivet with threatening aspect of descending rain. The kiss of the cooler air had touched the young man’s forehead and call ed him out of his sleep. He started to his feet. ‘I must be going,’he said, and I must leave thee, thou loving resting-place for His dear feet.’ Again he drew forth the book. ‘Here I have thy words brought back to the tongue in which they were spoken, my own nervous, pregnant, soft-toned Hebrew, thou great, harmonious Nez- arene, divine guide of man;do they understand that name now ? Do they hear thy call now ? Do they see before their minds thy grand and noble figure, clad in the flowing robe down to the sandalled feet; thy spiritual countenance lit up by the intelligence of the prophet’s eye? I have thy words, translated by myself from mod ern tongues, but thy spirit—have I it? Here have thy feet rested; here thou sawest below thee thousands; here thy divine ecstatic vision looked npon the creatures, swaying baokward and for ward with man’s passions; and here, in senten ces snatched from thy seeing soul, dids’t thou preach to them thy words of peace! I see thee, I understand thee, Nazarene; thou didst belong to us—to the old chosen race of faith in one great God ! Adieu—long may I not tread this grass nor lie on thy brown earth, not kiss the dew on thy brow—while I go and see how those who have left the old name and taken thine, how they understand thy seer’s teaching! Adieu!’ He knelt down, kissed the Mount, and slowly departed down toward the villages at its base. #44- Near the gate of St. Stephens, in Jerusalem, in a close, sombre street, stood a still more som bre bouse; it looked, from without, as if no act ual life was going on within. Now and then odd Jewish figures passed in and out with small leather bags, greasy from much use. Suddenly a young man appeared at the end of the street, and moved slowly along with raised head and tbe peculiar walk of a master, up the way. He stopped before the house and entered it; he passed through the dull corridor, inte a low, vaulted room of immense size, and swept by a number of men, who saluted most respectfully on either side; he returned no salutation, but wrapt in his own fancies, and followed by the oldest of the men, retired to a small room at the b *Iarael Torriano, the wealthiest Jewish banker in the East, leant back in an old shaggy chair, and contemplated the ceiling; before him stood Moses, the grey-headed oonfidentiel manager of the Jerusalem branch of the bank. •Moses, thou need’st not oome. Goon as usual; suck thy golden blood, and wash thy old hands in such moral chaffering filth as thou desirest, I have nothing to do with it*’ •Not sign the books, sir? Not look over the eeounts, sir?’grinned Moses obsequiousiy. ‘No, do it thyself; withdraw, old man, thou reekestwith the stench of dross.’ M > 898 went, very little oonoerned about his master's odd way of auditing accounts. Israel Torriano, our handsome young Jew, of Mount Olivet, took up some letters from tbe ta ble; all letters bearing the slightest appearance of business were thrown aside, a few others he opened. •From my uncle Jacob Torriano, asking that I should visit him soon; I will. My cousin Rebecca expects me, her only eastern relative. What are relatives to me ? I’ll go. From Anton Torriano in Paris, and Joseph Torriano in Vienna, and lastly from Benjamin Torriano in London. Help me, it is a conspiracy to draw me out, and get my capital for European use; I'll let them have it without the visits. Money, money, money, thou everlasting tormentor, that hast become an end, from being nothing but a means. What do I care for money? uncles and oousins, ye shall I be satisfied. Wait; that muoh beloved eastern cousin, the only remaining representative of this great and pure eastern Jewish stock, he shall appear to you but to vanish again, and ye shall have your hearts desire. Israel Torriano rose like an Eastern monarch, majestic in appearance. He laid his hand upon a small bell and rang it. Moses appeared cring ing and obsequious. ‘Moses, I go to-morrow to see the branohes of our family in various countries.’ ‘On business sir; on business?’ said hesita tingly the old man. •No, not on business—I know no business !' ‘Not the Turkish loaD, sir; nor the Egyptian; nor the Rmh's jewels; and our vast tea and opium plantations; nor the bit of hold we’ve got on the Russian money-market, and the small a vance to the Wallachian land-owners and the Greek corn-merchants; ancf here in onr Levant, the vast undertakings everywhere, the branch houses in Damascus, in the Smyrna, even in Al exandria, in Tiflis; and Jehovah be praised 1 ev erywhere and anywhere. Nothing thou know- est; great, powerful Israel Torriano of all this?’ The old man rubbed his hands, and leered temptingly. ‘Think, young Israel, the world is at thy feet, thy kn-owest not thy wealth. I, old poor Moses, who never stir from the gate of the Christian, who watch- over it all; I know it and I say, Israel Torriano, this empire is sweeter than a royal crown, for it is real.’ The old shaggy man had lifted his sknil-cap, straggling grey hairs fell over his forehead, and touched the cunning fox-ey6s. Moses was the incarnate spirit of strong, grasping, gold-cieating money- power. ‘Be off, old man; I’ll take no fiend’s bonds. Chaffer on as thou wilt, the hoar of release will come.’ Moses knew the power of his master; he cast one grand look upon him, and went to the door but instantly returned. 4 ‘I have no power to act tor thee, Israel Torri ano;’ he said rather spitefally. ‘Take it then, take it; act, act, act; chaffer, chaffer, chaffer; fill thy coffers, grind the bor rower, manage the money-market, and by all that is holy on earth, leave me out of the ques tion ! Moses, hard-hearted money-worsbpiper, thou who hast laid down thy life at the shrine of Mammon, forget not, that once in sacred Je rusalem, there was a school of poetry, college of musicians; that the prophets were taught there, that the songs of Israel rose pure and worship ing up to Jehovah;—Jehovah who now looks up on our stunted race, as the worshipers of Mam mon. I am free and will not adore thy divinity come what may ! Be master here, and let me go. Hence, old sinner, begone! Moses vanished, tears in his eyes; Moses loved Mammon, but above all, above everything, even handsome Israel Torriano, the child he had nuised, did Moses love the sweet recollection of Jewish greatness. m m m m m m Israel Torriano began his journey to his rela tions at the little ancient seaport of Jaffa. As he cleared out of its harbor there arose in his mind the visions of vessels laden with precious woods and costly building materials, coming from Syrian Tyre, and bringing their cargoes for the creation of Solomon’s temple: Ah! where were those vessels now? where would he hear the call of the dusky Hebrew captain to his men, where see the fair result of such stupendous endeavors? Three thousand years of history were a long time; they had passed over little Jaffa and left it in the bauds of the Turk, after endless straggles of rising and dying people; but even three thousand years could not quite obliterate all traces of Hebrew origin—the early traces of a people worshiping one God among surrounding idolaters. From Jaffa the young Jew passed on to Alex andria, where the first signs of Earopean culti vation greeted him. He was not favorably im pressed by them; as he stepped from one steamer on the other, the figures that crowded the harbor appeared to him anxious, deteriorated by want, or swelled by authority into pompous ness. The glitter of outside show had not the slightest attraction for so contemplative a mind as that of Israel Torriano; nor could the Pillar of Pompey, the Needle of Cleopatra, or the modern building and fortifidaticns, draw him on land. He smiled disdainfully as he looked on. ‘The bygone pride of fallen, the present boast of ex isting nations; where is the great living spirit of the master? I see it not.’ Neither visiting mosque nor synagogue, Israel turned, almost in disgust, from one of the future capitals of modern civilization, the observed of many eyes. Dressed more in acordance with European fashion, he bore yet an Eastern ap pearance, and so undoubted a stamp of not belonging to the outside world, that men and women looked askance at him. The steamer sped along over the smooth blue Mediterranean waves; Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Italians, in various guises of dress, crowded its d6ck, eaeh using his own mother tongue; among them stood calm and unruffled that handsome figure at the helm, scanning the distant horizon, with the little book in hand, forgetful of the noisy, picturesque scenes around. The steamer passed through the Straits of Messina and along the western shore of Lower Italy, towards the Gulf of Naples. Israel was nearing the dwelling-place of the first relatives he was to visit; but even by the expectancy of such a meeting, the young Jew remained un moved. As he saw the fair shores of the southern peninsula, his soul lovingly encom passed their beauty. ‘What a dwelling place for bis teaching !’ he said to himself, ‘Let us see, great Nazarene, whether here, in the land that is washed by one of the gentlest seas in the world, Thy name is recognized.’ The declining sun rested on Naples; the steamer entered port, skimming over the bright surface toward its goal; the scene, north, west, east, and south was one of heavenly beauty. Its harmoni ous light and Bhade; its glorious golden-lit points of interest; its shores adorned with the palaces and villas of the great; its luminous volcanic watch-tower, great Vesuvius—all combined to seize on an ardent imagination, and proclaim the whole as one of the beauteous sights on earth. And the dwellers on earth; were they in harmony also with its fafr faoe ? Israel Tor riano, whose very name carried in its ring the consciousness of money-power; Israel Torriano raised his eyes up to the magically-tinted skies, and bathed his own exultant soul in the loveli ness of natural creation. • •*••• In one of the most charming villas to the south of the Strada Chija, in Naples, lived Jacob Tor riano, the Neapolitan Jew banker; his daughter Bebecoa was bis only ohild. Jacob Torriano in very many noble houses, and bore all kinds of state secrets in bis Jewish breast In a gor geous room or saloon rather, furnished with ex traordinary splendor and some taste, a room that overlooked the gulf and showed in the dis tance Vesuvius, B9becoa Torriano reclined on a oonoh, her dreamy eyes directed to the sama sunset that bore her Cousin Israel into port. The affinity of souls just allowed a faint interest to attaoh itself to the idea, that this great eastern cousin, the last of the old family stock, was to visit them soon. Bebecoa, the child of her father’s immoderate, extravagant, doting love, was hoping for some reprieve from the oeer- bearing sumptousness to which she was doomed. Tall, sturdy, and noble image of Esther type, young girl had early grown into mature beauty, and the obtuse old father had imagined that this perfect voluptuous womanhood of hers, endow ed with limbs of grand symmetry, with ardent desires to see and know the world, might be kept in a gilded cage, surrounded by things that could not but nourish her imaginative longings, and entertained merely by the sooiety of Sarah the nurse of her infancy. The young Jewess turned to her harp, and sent the chords of her rioh mind vibrating over the strings; the very luxury of her sensations made her sad, there seeemed no outlet for her superabundant sympathies, all they could feed on were stolen books of Italian poetry, the poetry of D inte, Tasso, and Ariosto, brought steathily to Bebecoa by old Sarah, from Jacob Torriano’s library. The setting sun gilt the elegant apartment, and rested caressingly on Bebecca's black hair; her head lay on the harp, her soul heard, out in the exceeding loveliness of the evening glow, sounds and calls, to whioh she could not an swer, for was she not trammeled by the bonds of golden fetters, woven round her by all that money could buy ? Sarah rushed in: ‘Rebecca, child of my bosom, be has come He stands below in thy father’s room, he the greatest, richest Jew of the Eist, tbe beloved of great Jehovah, the very image of Hebrew beauty. God be praised that I have seen him, that I have once more caught sight of what they have been in years gone by, the Hebrew men of the E ist. Child Bebecoa, art thou ready ? He cometh ! He cometh! The old woman knelt in her excitement by Bebecoa’s side and wept. Sounds of footsteps were heard; before Bebec- i could recover herself and Sarah rise, the banker with young Israel stood before the two women. Sarah actually took hold of Israels ooat skirt and kissed it sobbing: My eyes i have seen thee; be welcomed by Bebecca s hand-woman.’ Bebecca rose; dressed, as her father insisted, with rioh Eastern taste; and gracefully welcom ed her cousin. For the fist time in his life, Israel was so near a really beautiful women: no red tinged his cheek, no flutter oame over his heart; young Is rael bowed slightly. •Dost thou sing Hebrew melodies ? Sing me something,’ Bebecca looked at him; Dante, Tasso and Ariosto, had found an interpretaton; a really personified poet was before her. •Play child. Sit down Israel. There, look out yonder into the gulf; is Jerusalem finer ? ’ ‘Yes, to me, uncle; and when Bebecca sings I shall be miles away on the brow of its hills.’ ‘Thou art attache! to the East ? ’ said Bebecoa gently. ‘Much, greatly;’answered Israel. He meant to say something else, but checked himself, looking at Jacob Torriano. Bebecca sang, Israel stood by her side, his eyes fixed upon her. Old Jacob rubbed his hands: the scheme was growing, and he could see heaps of untold gold. A knock was given at the doot, Sarah brought the message* ‘Prince Sansi awaited the banker below.’ ‘CanuoS^jme,’iinswered Jacob roughly; but on second thought he believed it necessary to meet the prince. ‘Eatertain thy cousin, Bebecoa,’ he said, leav ing the room with a side look of caution to Sa rah. Israel breathed more freely. ‘Thy father, Bebecca, is old Moses over again; muoh given to money-making, I can see it. Thy eyes tell another tale, cousin; dost thou love money ?’ ‘I do not know its value.’ ‘Blessed art thou; now sing me another He brew melody, and I will catch its tones in unison with yonder red-glowing sun.’ Israel leant over towards the open window, and Bebecoa sang again to her harp; Sarah look ing at them in mute astonishment. ‘Gome here, cousin,’ Said Israel, as the last tones died away; ‘come to the window.’ By Israel’s side stood Bebecca. ‘Dost thou see that sky ? C Behest thou the glimpses of the mountain yonder, and dost thou not adore ? ’ ‘I do adore night and morning,’ answered Bebecoa. ‘Ah, in the cold formal fashion, saying thy prayers. ’ ‘No my soul adoreth.’ ‘Bebecca, thou art a kindred spirit; thou art a sister:’ Israel took the little hand of the Jew ess, and laid it caressingly on his shoulder. ‘Stop there, we shall adore together.’ Bebecca did stop; but her heart began to beat faster. Sarah saw nothing. It was all right with them. 'Was he not the long expected Jew bridegroom, the desired son of old Jacob? Had those wily Christians that tried to penetrate into Jacob Torriano's family not been kept off, one and all ? Had ever love-word been allowed to reach Bebecca’s ears ? No she had sacredly been kept for her Jew-cousin, and all was welL Sarah thanked Jehova in her heart. ‘Bise with me, Bebecca, into the vastness of the heavens above; descend with me to the depths below; cousin I believe thou art beauti ful in person, like the rippling waves yonder; value it not; it is accidental, the beauty of shape. Let rather thy soul value Him who gave it thee, and give it back to Him. Dost thou hear, Be becca? ’ Bebecca’s hand trembled a little on Is rael’s shoulder. ‘Why dost thou tremble ? Thou art safe with me. Thou art a sacred maiden to sing with me in God’s temple, and love the words of the Naz arene.’ The last few words Israel said under his breath; Sarah, a little deaf, heard them not. ‘The Nazarene,’ replied Bebecca, shocked; ‘He is not of us.’ •He was; He was a Jew, and a chosen Jew, and loved his race,’ ‘But his words are blasphemy.' ‘His words are the sweet harmonies of God’s divine creation; they proclaim love among the creatures, Bebecoa, not voluptuous indulgence, not rioh dress as thine, not sumptuous rooms as thine, not money-bags as thine and mine; but simple, natural love. Gome, share my meal, Bebeoca.’ To Sarah’s utter disgust, Israel fetch ed out of his capacious pocket, a pocket of dates, a flask of milk, small loaves of white bread, and two small oups of horn. ‘Eat and drink with me.’ Those two sat in the embrasure of the window, the room swam in reddish evening light, and the| magnificent scene without gloried in the grandest natural splendor. Bebecoa ate and drank with Israel the simple meal of the East, and Sarah left them alone. AH was well, for was he not the Jewish bridegroom of the East ? At that moment the banker returned, looking aghast at what he saw. ‘What! Israel Torriano eating in my daugh ter’s sitting-room ? This is defilement!’ said Ja cob. rather sharply; he caught, however, the eye of Sarah, and remembered that he spoke to him who was the possessor of unbounded wealth. ‘Nothing defiles that is done in simplicity and honor,’said Israel, unmoved. ‘.Jacob Torriano, let thy daughter go with me on the waters, I can row.’ ‘Alone ? never.’ ‘Wny not ? ‘It is not becoming.’ ‘All is becoming that is done with chaste thoughts.’ Tbe heaps of gold rose again before Jacob. ‘Well, Sarah may accompany you. But be back soon, supper will be spread, some great men are coming to meet t'i69 Israel, and thou must not fail; besides, thou wilt need refresh ment’ ‘I need no refreshment, I have supped with Bebeoca; the body should be nourished not glut tonized. Thy great men I want not, my cousin Bebecca is better company; give them their worldly food, I look for other.’ Jacob shook his head; true, old Moses had given him an inkling of great singularity in his nephew, but such vagaries in a man of mil lions, whose bearing was that of an Eastern prince. It was too bad—but what could Jacob Torriano not pardon to miles of tea and opium plantations ? Tne old banker watched them as they floated along on the gentle swelling waves. ‘Jehovah be praised! the dearest wish ot my heart is accomplished; in ray family will the old stock b© renewed; from Jacob's loins will the great man arise, who shall sway the fortunes of thousands, as the heroes of our race did of old. If it is another kind of sway—what of that? Not my fault, not our fault, but the turn of the wheel of national fortunes and men’s desires.’ • »•*** ‘Bebecca, seest thou those last streaks of red dish light? Seest thou the first glimmering of the rising star? Bebecoa, breathest thou the balmy ait of this southern dime? Citchest thou the sweet hum of the night creatures of the air ? Ah! aii is existence; in existence is essence, in essence is co-relation, in co-relation is love, in love is divinity! Dost understand, soft-souled cousin, kindred spirit of mine? Can nothing persuade thee that the Nazarene spoke rightly, when co-relation, that is love, bore away the palm over righteousness ? What was Pharasee- an righteousness, but self-glorification; dost un derstand, Bebecca? If self-glorification is naught then ought we to glorify Him, the creator of all, for in Him the end of all co-relation, of all love, lies bnried. Bebecoa, glorify God with me!' Bebecca hung her head; the impassioned voice of her companion stole cunningly into her soul, and made her nerves quiver with strange emotion that she could not define; suddenly she looked up; like one deified sat Israel Torriano by her side, resting lazily on his oars, and bathed in a flood of supreme ecstacy. A big pang shot through Bebecca's heart; was this the look of a fature bridegroom ? No, his was tbe appear ance of a being enraptured with one idea, with one view of the end ef the creation; not regard ing the general sympathies of fellow being3, but withdrawn from them by a peculiar education, and directed toward one sublime end. Was this the Nazirene's teaching ? Poor Be becca—willess, through continued tutelage and excessive luxurious surroundings—poor Bebec ca allowed this sudden inspiration to die away, and listened once more to the voice of the temp ter, that would fain Bteal her soul and entwine it with his own. ‘Sayest thou nothing. Bebecca? ‘Cousin Israel, to-night thou oomest to us like the whirlwind of a new life from the East, thou hast overwhelmed me with new thoughts; I can not tread thy road, as yet; obliterate not my own, before I see thine.’ Bebecca had, within a couple of hours, been awakened to an inner existence; the Italian poe try had found an interpretation, and she could have oalled out to her old friends: ‘Oh, oome tell me what is this new life!’ ‘Let us return, Bebecca, we have seen enough to-night; never over-gorge ourselves even with spiritual inspiration; be temperate; be chaste in all.’ And Israel Torriano, having all his life roam ed round the hills of Jerusalem at his will; Is rael thought suddenly to subdue and train the rebellious heart and warm bloed of his luxuri ously nursed cousin, Bebecca. J cob pressed his nephew in vain to come to the sumptuous late supper; Israel went to his allotted room, and by the open window lay down to sleep. Bebecoa sat in her own room, staring into the Neapolitan night; listening to the harmonious splash of the waves, and repeating softly to her self the words again and again: ‘Would he never come! Cousin Israel, thou hast never read Ital ian poetry!’ Sarah at last persuaded her young mistress to go also to rest. As the greyish tints of the early morning van ished, and the first golden rays lifted Naples into life; so rose Israel, anxious to catch the sight of each day’s new birth. All was still; the house was locked at every outlet, and Israel deftly climbed from the windows of his room. Hushed before him lay the first Earopean city he had seen. He turned from the gulf; from the lovely scene of tbe green hills and luxurious foliage, that were coming into bolder relief at every new ray, and went into the town. Jerus alem was not a savory place; he knew all its dark corners—its wretched neighborhoods; but Jerusalem was a city of sorrows, ‘given over to the Turk; Naples, the refined queen of southern Christian Italy, would surely present another appearance. Here the discordant elements of human interests would be blended by religious influences into one harmonious whole. Israel went along the Strada Chiaja and Santa Lucia; here and there he stumbled, in the first flush of the morning, over a sleeping lazzaroni, who turned drowsily to the other side; into deserted Toledo he roamed by magnificent palaces and innumerable churches; he stood in many of the squares, or largos, and admired statues that rose before him like ghosts of former times; on the largest square, the Largo di Meroato, the shades of the last Hohenstauffen fell upon him, though he knew it not; into the close alleys he went, and saw the dirty rags at windows, tbe begrim ed doorsteps, the forlorn look of the first risers preparing their early avocations. Signs of nightly broils and carousers struck him; the toll of the church bells, so well known from the monasteries in Jerusalem, fell upon his ear, sombre and mournful; and dispirited Israel re turned from his ramble to the Villa Torriano. To wash off his first impressions, he dived into the now gloriously lit gulf, and oame forth re freshed and better able to identify bis ideas up on the early morning life of Naples. Rebecca, roused betimes, had just enjoyed her own lux urious bath. She stood at her window as Israel looked up. ‘Come down here, cousin, and take your breakfast with me.’ Bebeoca oame, issuing for the first time in her life alone from the villa. Israel had already provided himself with fresh milk, dates, and bread. ‘Wilt thou share my simple meal?’ The two sat outside the sumptuous Jewish house, where tne servants just stirred, and tar dily began their work. Israel and Bebecca ohatted, and looked out into the bright morn ing, fishermen and market-women coming by who knew beautiful Bebecca, stared and laughed good-humoredly. row’ >Die W * th m6 ’ OOU8il1 ’ on a 8hork morning ‘I dare not, Israel. My father and Sarah would object •Thou darest with me-1’11 an8 ? e ' Come as thou art Pat this soarf over your ^Rebecca went They entered a boat lying alongside, one used by the servants of th , and rowed off. _ . , •There they are! Israel!-Bebecoa. come back !’ called both Jacob Torriano and Baran, running out to the shore. , But Israel took Bebecca’s hand, held it up to her father, shook his head, and went off with his priz*. ‘Well, well, Jacob Torriano, thy desires go nearer the fulfilment of their goal than thou hadst imagined. Say little about it, Sarah, o the banker returned to the bouse. Within a couple of hours, just as the heat wa becoming oppressive, the oousins returned * rael in excellent spirits—Bebeoca thoughtful. She expeoted a rebuke, and received none opium and tea plantations protected her. The full life ot the city now began, and Israel stood long watching the shore, listening to h chatter, to the call of the sellers, and the offers of the boatmen. Suddenly he rushed off, and went into the thickest, stared at by every passer by- They had all come-from R ime, from Venioe, from Milan, from Florence, irom Turin, from Genoa-the great money interests of Italy the men in whoso hands lay the fortunes of war, un- der whose thnmb throbbed the fate o millions of human beings—the men who stalked about 'change in imple plain clothes, wearing under them the insignia of princely, and more than princely power; the man who bought the exer tions of thousands, who made hills ar.se and seas dry up; who spanned oceans with ways ot intercommunication, and fetched treasures Irom the depths of the earth; the men who govern our world—the capitalists who are tne lords of onr day’s creation. _ ... They had come to see tne yonng Jew of the East, whose father had been one of the grestest money-sagacities of the world—holding in his hand the east and west, the north and south; and who bad allowed little Israel Tomano, the motherless child, to rove about Jeansalein, and learn what lessons he could from old Moses. There was such an infinite charm attached to this offspring of a mighty father, that ihe news which telegraph wires had flashed to them; ‘He is coming’--had stirred their souls. Many speculations were left unsettled; many a loan was unconcladed. They hurried to greet him, the last shoot of the eastern branch. All day had carriages deposited visitors at Torriano Villa. The house was crammed. Little bargains wore ooucladed in its spacious marble-inlaid saloons; nice slices of the income of sovereigns were cut and passed to a cousin; shares in all conceivable undertakings—-trom the drying up of the Campagna to the furnishing an emperor with means to fight his neighbor were argued. The chair of St. Peter himself did not escape the entries of their pencils. Money and money-power bring heaven to earth and earth to heaven. They waited, bat he came not; Israel Torri ano had disappeared after hi*» row with his consin, and had not been seen since. 1 he sa vory dishes were prepared, the valuable plate was set out, enticing aromas filled the house, busy waiters ran baokward and forward; it was to have been a great reception day tor the money of the West to receive the money of the East, and the money of the East would not be received. They could wait no longer; the little bargains had all been concluded, and had whetted the appetites of the bargainers. At last hnman na ture could stand it no longer, and they sat down to the sumptuous feast without him for whom the feast had been prepared. Bebecca was in her room; ladies wers not ad mitted to the sacred gatherings of the male ci ders, She was dreaming at her window, as the slanting rays of the snn began to descend, and the cool earth-moisture gently to ascend. Her heated fancy would turn back to the morning when consin Israel had rowed far out into the gulf, and had spoken mystic words to her—of new thonghts and new sympathies—words that, coming from his own ecstatic, temperate soul, could not water the luxurious plant of her yearn ing affections. Bebeoca felt with keen foresight that cousin Israel would never love her. And yet, how immeasurably grand it wonld be to be beloved by him. This evening her own thonghts were fnller of meaning than all poetry, even that of Dante, Tasso, and Ariosto. She thought she beard some faint sounds carry her name up to her—it was nothing; still it had sonnded ‘Be becca’ in his voice. She touched her harp in an swer, and tears—hot, scalding, burning tears— rained over the vibrating strings. Sarah entered. ‘Child, I have a letter; it is from him; I may give itthee. Come, let ns read it.' Bebecca trembled. ‘Give it me, Sarah, aud leave the room; I cannot read it while anyone is here. ’ ‘Ah ! already so far gone; well, well, child, I have thy father’s orders, Thou mayest do in this matter as thou listest.’ Sarah went, and Bebecca opened the letter with unsteady hands; her eyes refused at first to read. Little by little she became accustomed to tne bold Hebrew characters, and devoured the contents. ‘Cousin, I go; I shall not see thee again. Lis ten to-night to the evening air, it will carry thy name on its balmy wings over to thee, from me. Thou art the only sweet being I have met at Na ples, during my visit of one day. I have this day seen this Christian city, and have seen so little teaching of the Nazarene that I think men have forgotten Him. Wa3 He in those eager crowds that hang about with lean faces and tat tered garments? Was He among those dirty children and miserable lookiag women ? Was He in the solemn meaningless chants of the churches ? Was He in the ornaments and cer emonious profusions of the processions I saw? Was He in the stolid faces of the monks ? Was he in the glitter of the shops; the proud bearing of the rich in their carriages; the gay, nncon- cions prattle of the fashionable? Where was He ? I could almost see his enemies, the self noheons Pharisees, stand at the oorner and say aif 1 ! 1 P ra y 0r8 ' ‘that they are not snch as those.' Ah ! only in thy mild, soft eyes was he at all— was some of his Bpirit Consin, sister, flee thy snmptnons lite; become simple as he was; He who was born in our nation, a Nazarene; ask not for mortal love, it lives not in parity. I have seen Mutt to-day whioh has told me human love may become vile. Keep away from it; thou art one of tbe few elected; give your grand soul to Hod; worship Him and bis beautiful works, and keep your sweet body chaste before Him-an of fering from the creature to the Creator. Oh, consin, disappoint me not; fulill fchy mission, and give me thy hand in the spirit, to walk the earth as beings capable of some higher instinotst n „ n °" alo ( a ' art worthy of a word; I have lef iL f ?L thy fit , h J 6r or hls g aef »ts; they want no Th n g°ld®n heaps attached to my name. nave them; they are welceme. Adieu, thou blessed kindred spirit!’ And Rebecca rose, her figure became taller her agonized looks went up to heaven. Come ° h t! ho " ahcold she bear this heart- hnnf"*W°iT J v° U ^ 8b ® beftr loss 0 1 this v«fr a th ^ h h d a b l 6a 1D8tilled into, her ears for b , 600180 a portion of herself? She orushed the letter in very misery; and wo- that’hA^ 1 * 16 a - dent W0 P an “ 0 i» 0 was, she knew f r 00l *sin was, in his high aspirations, fooL dm |? P erhap8 1 a* 0 teuderest feelings under r,!L;? 0OOa ' thrown upon a sea of rcvolution- havin» l- 0118 ’ P a T ln g the heavy penalty of ba ™« glve ? 8 °nl to one who had never aikad it, au 1 w i» v*i a j i it n j‘. (to be continued.)