parents; and fresh instances of indignity, on the part of the Greeks, have served to inflame it, and impart a tenfold bitterness. It has never died away; and when there has been an apparent peace, the same amount of angry passion has been running beneath, ready at any moment to break forth. What has within a few days happened, to enrage so our people, you may deem a slight and insufficient cause; but so thinks not the true and loyal Jew. He would die rather than renounce his ancient rights. Listen a moment longer. No sooner was Cæsarea filled in part by Jews zealous of the law, than, in agreement with their customs, they erected synagogues for their worship, and in process of years have multiplied themselves in every part of the city. Now it has happened, some of our tribe having been among the earliest inhabitants of Cæsarea, that they came to be possessors of lands and houses, which then, indeed, were at the very outer limits of the city, but now, by reason of its growth, make its very centre. And our chief synagogue, so Providence has willed, stands, as you may have seen, not far from the palace of Herod, upon a rising ground, where it is seen of all who come in or go out, and has long been, for that reason, an occasion of envy to the Greeks. After many fruitless endeavors to deprive us of it, they have devised a new plan, which, because it is made to be a sign of their devotion to Cæsar, Pilate will not oppose, although pursuaded that not devotion to Cæsar, but malignity and envy toward the Jews have moved them. They have declared their purpose to erect a colossus to Tiberius, and beg of Pilate the very spot where stands the temple of our worship, which, they require, shall be levelled with the

ground, that the image of a man and a monster, yet whom they will by and by call a god, may stand upon its ruins. Sooner may the great sea rise and sweep, not Cæsarea only, but Judea, from the face of the earth, than such a deed be done, while a Jew lives to ward it off; that were a judgment of God, and we would meet with open arms the rushing flood; this, but the wrath of wicked men, and, as before against the hosts of Moab, so must we now rise up as one man against the hosts of Rome. This is the condition of Cæsarea, and such the posture of our affairs. It offers little to interest a stran

ger, least of all a Roman."

I told him in reply, "that it was not a thing to choose with me, whether I should take part with the oppressed; my nature impelled me that way; that, notwithstanding my Roman nurture, and Roman prejudices, I had still observed with indignation the place, which in Rome had been assigned the Jew, and the manner in which, both by those in power and the common citizen, he had been treated; that nothing there could be done by so few against so many, and I had waited, hoping that time. might, in its changes, bring some redress. But I had waited in vain, and I could only cry out against the fortune, which had made me a Roman by birth, but a Jew by blood, and so the heir of a hated and degraded name. Finding myself now upon the soil of my proper country, and hearing what I now had from himself, and what had been communicated by others, I could not but confess that my heart had grown warmer toward my native land, and I should watch with interest the affairs which were now in agitation."

Philip replied that I should do well to examine for

myself into the state of the city, and by inquiry upon both sides, learn the exact truth in respect to the particular dispute of which he had spoken. He hoped I should dwell with them a while, and from that point, as a centre make my observations. But if, upon a short survey, I found myself a Roman still, I should do well, within a few days, to take my departure, since with the same certainty that Pilate adhered to his present resolution, would there be uproar, violence, and bloodshed in Cæsarea."

I said, "that no prospect of such an event, even though I should remain neutral, would drive me from Cæsarea, if for any other reasons whatever it should be my wish to prolong my residence, for I was a lover of anything else better than a state of repose, and should choose to stay and see the conflict carried on to its end. But, if I might judge from my present feelings and convictions, and if nothing adverse occurred, I should be ready to take part with him and his friends in any measures they might think it proper to adopt."

I can see an approving smile light up your countenance, my mother, as you read these words, just such a smile as came over the features, stern and dark as they were, of Philip. He took my hand with passion as I ended, saying “he hoped God would confirm me in my present purpose, and turn my heart wholly toward the deliverance of Judea. What was about to happen in Cæsarea was truly a small matter, but it might prove the beginning of mighty revolutions. A spark had set whole cities on fire. What shall be done here, may stir up those of Jerusalem to deeds of the same sort. They especially bear Pilate no love for insults put upon them

many years ago. Now will be the time for vengeance. If I judge not our people amiss, they need but such an example as we shall set them to show themselves worthy of their fathers."

I assured him, as he said this, "that I now remain in Cæsarea till the present affair was ended, putting off my journey to Beth-Harem; and though I should not consciously interpret falsely the signs that might appear, I should not be sorry if I felt myself bound to remain here rather than go farther. I was a stranger to those in Beth-Harem, as well as to all else in Judea, and my only tie was that which now bound me so agreeably to Cæsarea."

66

"Are you, then," asked Philip, with eagerness, on the way to Beth-Harem, and do you know the great Onias, who truly may be called the prince of that region ?"

He was both amazed and overjoyed when he learned that Onias was the brother of my own mother; amazed, as he said, that I should to so late a period have remained a stranger to one so great as he, and my own uncle, and overjoyed that through me possibly he might be able to draw Onias over to take part in their affairs. Yet," he added, a shade passing over his countenance, "It will not be much that a Roman, or at best, but a half-Jew, can do for us with Onias. There is only one thing Onias scorns more than a Roman, and that is a Roman Jew." I told him, that, perhaps, before I should see Onias, if I saw him at all, I might, by the events here in Cæsarea, be converted to a veritable Hebrew, one whom he would not disdain to take by the hand and admit to his counsels, in which case my services should

not be wanting. Philip hoped it might be so; and then, after more conversation of the same sort, he rose, and taking me first to different parts of the extensive garden, brought me at length to the house, where we found the mother and daughter awaiting us, at a table spread with the best hospitality of the East.

I enjoyed the repast, my mother, I must confess, not less than some of those in Rome, at which Drusus has presided, and where I have reclined upon patrician couches. Never, indeed, did I enjoy myself or my companions more. Yet am I the same person who say this? Am I he, who but so little while ago shunned a Jew as a Jew shuns a leper? Am I he whose highest ambition hitherto hath been to ape the Roman, talk like him, walk like him, dress like him, smile like him, frown like him, and who now am the inmate of Jews, -Jews, not of Rome, who are somewhat, but of Judea, who are the refuse and offscouring of the earth, the loathing of the Roman, the scorn of the Greek, the hatred of all men; a people fit but to be the drudges and slaves of politer nations? Truly, I doubt if I be Julian, the son of Alexander, who but so late left Rome on his Eastern travels, the bosom friend of Quintius Hirpinus and Appius Lucretius, his fellow-travellers, both sons and companions of princes, and have not been, by some strange power, changed to another nature, and another person. Of another nature I certainly am,—at least of another mind; or rather, perhaps, I have come or am coming to knowledge of my true mind, which in men oftentimes lies buried, as I think, out of sight, till events, or the will of God, reveal it. Well, most beloved mother, of one thing I am sure, that whatever change of this sort