persecutions under the cloak of Christianity, a great many were put to death for the crime of usury, which they practised to an awful extent. The Council of Lyons was the first that instituted capital punishment against usurers, and the other towns soon adopted the decree. In 1807, usury was finally suppressed by the decree of Napoleon, and they began to cultivate the arts and sciences. Since that period they have become the first statesmen, and excelled in science and literature. They have also become famous for commerce. In Lyons, as throughout the whole of France, the largest shops are kept by Jews. At Bayonne, the principal bankers are Jews. They enjoy now all the privileges of their Gentile countrymen; their rabbis and schoolmasters are paid by government.

The French Jew does not feel that he is "a curse and a byword amongst the nations;" and to avoid even being called a Jew, they conform to all the outward rites of their Catholic neighbours. Their spiritual condition is indeed deplorable. They have shaken off Rabbinical Judaism, and with it the belief in Moses and the Prophets. The rabbi of Lyons lately complained to a Christian friend of the narrow-mindedness of Christians, that they are tied down to certain dogmas from which they dare not swerve; whilst he, as a rational being, reads the Bible rationally, and accounts for those astounding facts, which people call miracles, in a reasonable way; and declared that neither Moses nor any of the Prophets ever performed a real miracle. A few days ago, I met at Mr. C- -'s the newly appointed rabbi of Toulon. As Mr. C was anxious to introduce the subject of Christianity, he asked the rabbi's opinion on Gen. xlix. 10, which, even according to Jarchi, refers to the Messiah. " Who cares what Jarchi says," was his reply; "and as for the verse itself, no one would be so simple as to lay any stress on the fantastical expressions of poetry.' If this is the belief, or rather the unbelief, of the teachers

of the people, you can easily perceive what must be the condition of those that are taught.

The true statistics of the Jews in France it is almost impossible to ascertain; as there are a great many who never give themselves out as Jews, but live, as is usually termed, "a Christian life." By this is meant, that they eat the meat killed by a Gentile butcher, and the animals forbidden in the law of Moses. To visit the synagogues on the Saturday, one would be apt to suppose that there were a mere handful of Jews in France. In Lyons, for instance, where there are between two and three thousand, no more than about sixty are found in the synagogue. Besides Lyons and Paris, there are other towns where the Jewish population is considerable; such as Marseilles, Toulouse, Bayonne, (about 2,000 expelled from Spain), Bordeaux, Metz, Colmar, Strasbourg, Besançon, &c. The general estimate of the Jews in France is, 100,000.

On my journey to the South, I visited the schools of every town through which I passed. They are generally well conducted, and their masters well-educated men. The boys are publicly examined once a year, together with all other government schools; when the mayor and other authorities distribute prizes for the different branches of study, very few Jewish children go home without one. I have examined some of the boys, and was very much surprised to find them not anly versed in Old Testament history, but many, also, well acquainted with the history of Christ. This, at first, puzzled me; but I found that many families buy for their children, as a text book for Bible history, a book called "The Bible," which contains all the historical parts of the New as well as of the Old Testament. These schools are only attended by the children of the poor and middle classes, whilst those of the rich are generally educated in Roman Catholic establishments. The synagogues are clean and nicely decorated, the copies of the law richly ornamented,

and now there is an organ in almost every synagogue, played by a Gentile. The office of the rabbi is a very easy one. He reads every Saturday the prayer for the Emperor, and preaches about four times a year. Once a year, the boys and girls, reaching the age of thirteen, have to repeat to the rabbi, after the afternoon service, the thirteen articles of faith, and give an account of all the Jewish festivals; after which the rabbi addresses both parents and children. This is called "the first communion." I asked several Jews the meaning of that term-to what communion they were admitted? The only explanation they could give me was, that it is the same as amongst the Christians; evidently a ceremony copied from the Roman Catholics.

The great difficulty with the French Jew is, not opposition to Christianity, but indifference to religion of any kind. He does not dispute what the missionary says he listens with politeness, but without feeling any interest in what is said. At St. Etienne I visited a rich Jewish merchant, and was received with every mark of respect. He and his brother listened for above two hours whilst I was expounding to them the scheme of redemption as wrought out by Jesus Christ. When I had finished, they thanked me for the information I had imparted to them. I asked them what they thought on the subject. "As for thinking," they replied, "that is quite out of the question; we never think about it at all. It is very nice for those who have a taste for such matters, but we have too much to think about already." I often meet on Saturday from ten to fifteen Jews, and if there is one that raises any objection, it is always a foreign Jew. This is their general character, whilst there are some who are seriously enquiring their way to Sion; others who have testified that they have found the Gospel to be the power of God unto salvation; and some who have not as yet publicly confessed the Saviour, but who, I believe, will be found in the kingdom of heaven with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

E. B. F.

COUSIN EDITH.

BY ALICE HAWTHORN E.

Chapter IV.-The Estimate of Character.

CLAUDE reached his destination in safety; and immediately upon his arrival, he sent Minnie a long and amusing account of his journey, and his reception. Claude's letters, like himself, were original and entertaining; they were generally half in prose, and half in rhyme; and were interspersed every now and then with some learned remark or curious illustration, which excited a smile from the reader, and the exclamation of "That is just like Claude!" I am not going to give you an entire copy of his letter, gentle reader, because I do not know either that Claude would particularly admire seeing his jingling rhymes and confidential remarks in print, or that I have any right to publish them. I judge his feelings by my own; for I am quite sure that there are some epistles of mine in the possesson of absent friends, which I should by no means like to be put into your hands for perusal. I expect you could say just the same to me. One or two extracts, however, from Claude's letter, I may give you without hesitation, as they do not relate to family affairs; and as they have some connexion with characters that have already figured in our pages.

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* "Having one or two hours to spare at C—, where I waited for the next train, I enjoyed myself famously in sauntering about the town, and prying into all sorts of odd corners. I can't stop now to tell you all that I saw. Feeling rather lonely and lowspirited, I thought I would cheer myself up by a good substan tial meal-my usual remedy, you know-so I ordered dinner at a respectable hotel; where I paid for considerably more than I eat (and that was not a trifle). The prices were exorbitant. If all else fails, I shall turn innkeeper; it must be a thriving business. When I had despatched my dinner, I departed, but had not got far, before I missed my little travelling-bag, my precious little bag, worked by your fair hands, sweet sister, and containing more treasures than everybody is aware of. hastened back to look for it, but of course nobody had cast their eyes upon it. The slim, genteel looking waiter, with his black coat and white neckerchief-he reminded me so much of Mr. Franklyn, Minnie!-professed himself perfectly ignorant of its very existence; and spoke of it with as much composure and

I

unconcern as if it had been a sixpenny bag of biscuits! It was too bad of the fellow; and all the while I doubted not that he had secreted it somewhere for his own perquisite.

"However, my suspicions proved as suspicions frequently do, unjust; for as I was retracing my steps, deeming myself one of the most unfortunate of mortals, and wondering what in the world I should do without my dear little bag, a young man hurried up to me with it in his hand! I was so delighted to see it; almost as delighted as you were once Minnie, when poor Mosie, who had strayed from his comfortable home, was brought back the next morning by the milkman. But my bag-returner was a very different personage to the stout, vulgar, old milkman; for he was a tall, fine looking young man, very well dressed, and equally well-behaved. But how he came to know either me or my bag, was more than I could make out, until, with some difficulty, I discovered that he was Harry Leslie, the paragon son of your former sempstress. He had come to C- to arrange about taking a situation which had been offered to him, and while passing through a rather unfrequented lane, had picked up my bag at the foot of a tree, where I had sat down to rest and to think. If I were to show you the beautiful verses which I composed under that tree, you would be astonished; Ernest Heathwood's are nothing to them! But I am too diffident to let my real merits be known. Mr. Leslie is a frank, pleasant spoken young man; I liked him very much, barring his sentimentality. A sailor-he was a sailor once, you know-has no right to be sentimental. We had a little chat together; and I was grumbling-I am an Englishmanand think it my duty to grumble occasionally about the length of the journey. I forgot just then, that my beloved ancestors of a century or two back, would have jumped for joy if they could have changed places with me. It's a tedious, wearisome journey,' I said to Mr. Leslie. 'Like the journey of life,' he said with a half smile. Now this answer fairly provoked me; such a threadbare, worn-out comparison was only fit for a school-girl's sentimental essay; besides, I hate such morbid and aloister-like views of life, and take every opportunity of denouncing them. No, no,' I answered quickly, not at all like the journey of life, Mr. Leslie, so far at least as I am concerned, for I find that a vastly more delightful affair than this dull whirling along in the shut-up-train. Life is exceedingly pleasant to me just now; a smooth road, agreeable companions, and cheerful prospects, make it very different to your representations; you must select a happier illustration next time.' It occured to me afterwards, that his life had not been very bright hitherto. 'Well,' he said, hastily, for the train was nearly in sight, 'it won't matter much about the length or the uncomfortableness of the way,