He was interrupted by Wamba, who had taken his appropriated seat upon a chair the back of which was decorated with two ass's ears, and which was placed about two steps behind that of his master, who from time to time supplied him with victuals from his own trencher,—a favor, however, which the Jester shared with the favorite dogs, of whom, as we have already noticed, there were several in attendance. Here sat Wamba, with a small table before him, his heels tucked up against the bar of the chair, his cheeks sucked up so as to make his jaws resemble a pair of nut-crackers, and his eyes half shut, yet watching with alertness every opportunity to exercise his licensed foolery.

66

'These truces with the infidels," he exclaimed, without caring how suddenly he interrupted the stately Templar, "make an old man of me."

"Go to, knave! How so?" said Cedric, his features prepared to receive favorably the expected jest.

66

'Because," answered Wamba, "I remember three of them in my day, each of which was to endure for the course of fifty years; so that, by computation, I must be at least a hundred and fifty years old.”

"I will warrant you against dying of old age, however,” said the Templar, who now recognized his friend of the forest. "I will assure you from all deaths but a violent one if you give such directions to wayfarers as you did this night to the prior and me." "How, sirrah!" said Cedric, "misdirect travelers? We must have you whipped. You are at least as much rogue as fool."

"I pray thee, uncle," answered the Jester, "let my folly for once protect my roguery. I did but make a mistake between my right hand and my left; and he might have pardoned a greater who took a fool for his counselor and guide."

Conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the porter's page, who announced that there was a stranger at the gate, imploring admittance and hospitality.

"Admit him," said Cedric, "be he who or what he may. A night like that which roars without compels even wild animals to

herd with tame, and to seek the protection of man, their mortal foe, rather than perish by the elements. Let his wants be minis

And the steward left the banqueting-hall to see the commands of his patron obeyed.

CHAPTER V.

SWALD, returning, whispered into the ear of his master,

OSWAL

"It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York.1 Is it fit I should marshal him into the hall?"

66

"Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald," said Wamba with his usual effrontery; the swineherd will be a fit usher to the Jew." "St. Mary!" said the abbot, crossing himself, "an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this presence!"

"A dog Jew," echoed the Templar, "to approach a defender of the Holy Sepulcher!"

"By my faith," said Wamba, "it would seem the Templars love the Jews' inheritance better than they do their company." "Peace, my worthy guests," said Cedric; "my hospitality must not be bounded by your dislikes. If Heaven bore with the whole nation of stiff-necked unbelievers for more years than a layman can number, we may endure the presence of one Jew for a few hours. But I constrain no man to converse or to feed with him. Let him have a board and a morsel apart—unless," he said, smiling, "these turbaned strangers will admit his society."

"Sir Franklin," answered the Templar, "my Saracen slaves are true Moslems,2 and scorn as much as any Christian to hold intercourse with a Jew.”

“Now, in faith," said Wamba, “I cannot see that the wor

1 The capital of Yorkshire at its junction with the Foss. ital of Northumbria.

2 Followers of Mohammed.

County, England, situated on the river Ouse
Under the Heptarchy, the city was the cap-

shipers of Mahound and Termagaunt1 have so greatly the advantage over the people once chosen of Heaven."

"He shall sit with thee, Wamba," said Cedric. "The fool and the knave will be well met."

"The fool," answered Wamba, raising the relics of a gammon 2 of bacon, “will take care to erect a bulwark against the knave.” “Hush!” said Cedric, “for here he comes."

Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with fear and hesitation, and many a bow of deep humility, a tall, thin old man, who, however, had lost by the habit of stooping much of his actual height, approached the lower end of the board. His features, keen and regular, with an aquiline nose and piercing black eyes; his high and wrinkled forehead, and long gray hair and beard,— would have been considered as handsome, had they not been the marks of a physiognomy peculiar to a race which, during those dark ages, was alike detested by the credulous and prejudiced vulgar, and persecuted by the greedy and rapacious nobility, and who, perhaps, owing to that very hatred and persecution, had adopted a national character, in which there was much, to say the least, mean and unamiable.

The Jew's dress, which appeared to have suffered considerably from the storm, was a plain russet cloak of many folds, covering a dark-purple tunic. He had large boots lined with fur, and a belt around his waist, which sustained a small knife, together with a case for writing materials, but no weapon. He wore a high square yellow cap of a peculiar fashion, assigned to his nation to distinguish them from Christians, and which he doffed with great humility at the door of the hall.

The reception of this person in the hall of Cedric the Saxon was such as might have satisfied the most prejudiced enemy of the tribes of Israel. Cedric himself coldly nodded in answer to the Jew's repeated salutations, and signed to him to take place at the lower end of the table, where, however, no one offered to

1 An imaginary deity, considered by crusaders a Mohammedan deity. 2 A ham, salted, smoked, or dried.

make room for him. On the contrary, as he passed along the file, casting a timid, supplicating glance, and turning towards each of those who occupied the lower end of the board, the Saxon domestics squared their shoulders, and continued to devour their supper with great perseverance, paying not the least attention to the wants of the new guest. The attendants of the abbot crossed themselves, with looks of pious horror; and the very heathen Saracens, as Isaac drew near them, curled up their whiskers with indignation, and laid their hands on their poniards, as if ready to rid themselves by the most desperate means from the apprehended contamination of his nearer approach.

Probably the same motives which induced Cedric to open his hall to this son of a rejected people would have made him insist on his attendants receiving Isaac with more courtesy. But the abbot had at this moment engaged him in a most interesting discussion on the breed and character of his favorite hounds, which he would not have interrupted for matters of much greater importance than that of a Jew going to bed supperless. While Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present society, like his people among the nations, looking in vain for welcome or resting-place, the pilgrim who sat by the chimney took compassion upon him, and resigned his seat, saying briefly, "Old man, my garments are dried, my hunger is appeased: thou art both wet and fasting.” So saying, he gathered together and brought to a flame the decaying brands which lay scattered on the ample hearth; took from the larger board a mess of pottage and seethed kid, placed upon the small table at which he had himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's thanks, went to the other side of the hall —whether from unwillingness to hold more close communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to draw near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.

it

Had there been painters in those days capable to execute such a subject, the Jew, as he bent his withered form, and expanded his chilled and trembling hands over the fire, would have formed no bad emblematical personification of the winter season. Hav

ing dispelled the cold, he turned eagerly to the smoking mess which was placed before him, and ate with a haste and an apparent relish that seemed to betoken long abstinence from food.

Meanwhile the abbot and Cedric continued their discourse upon hunting; the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendant females; and the haughty Templar, whose eye wandered from the Jew to the Saxon beauty, revolved in his mind thoughts which appeared deeply to interest him.

"I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the abbot, as their discourse proceeded, "that, great as your predilection is for your own manly language, you do not receive the Norman-French into your favor, so far at least as the mystery of woodcraft and hunting is concerned. Surely no tongue is so rich in the various phrases which the field-sports demand, or furnishes means to the experienced woodman so well to express his jovial art.”

"Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, “be it known to you, I care not for those over-sea1 refinements, without which I can well enough take my pleasure in the woods. I can wind my horn, though I call not the blast either a recheate2 or a morte;3 I can cheer my dogs on the prey, and I can flay and quarter the animal when it is brought down, without using the new-fangled jargon of curee, arbor, nombles, and all the babble of the fabulous Sir Tristrem."4

"The French," said the Templar, raising his voice with the presumptuous and authoritative tone which he used upon all occasions, "is not only the natural language of the chase, but that

1 Referring to the innovations of the Normans.

2 The call on the hunting-horn to bring back the hounds when they have lost the scent.

3 The sounding of the horn in the chase at the death of the game.

4 The Normans formally separated from common life the terms of the chase. The objects of their pursuit, whether bird or animal, changed their name each year. There were a hundred conventional terms, all from the French, to be ignorant of which was to be without the distinguishing marks of a gentleman. The origin of this science was imputed to Sir Tristrem, one of King Arthur's knights, famous for his love for the beautiful Ysolte.