y prayer, the goblet of wine he holds, the very ceremony which
the Divine Prince of Israel, nearly two thousand years ago, adopted
at the most memorable of all repasts, and eternally invested with
eucharistic grace; or, perhaps, as he is offering up the peculiar
thanksgiving of the Feast of Tabernacles, praising Jehovah for the
vintage which his children may no longer cull, but also for His promise
that they may some day again enjoy it, and his wife and his children are
joining in a pious Hosanna, that is, Save us! a party of Anglo-Saxons,
very respectable men, ten-pounders, a little elevated it may be, though
certainly not in honour of the vintage, pass the house, and words like
these are heard:

'I say, Buggins, what's that row?'

'Oh! it's those cursed Jews! we've a lot of 'em here. It is one of their
horrible feasts. The Lord Mayor ought to interfere. However, things are
not as bad as they used to be: they used always to crucify little boys
at these hullabaloos, but now they only eat sausages made of stinking
pork.'

'To be sure,' replies his companion, 'we all make progress.'

In the meantime, a burst of music sounds from the gardens of Besso of
Damascus. He advances, and invites Tancred and the Emir to follow
him, and, without any order or courtesy to the softer sex, who, on
the contrary, follow in the rear, the whole company step out of the
Saracenic windows into the gardens. The mansion of Besso, which was
of great extent, appeared to be built in their midst. No other roof or
building was in any direction visible, yet the house was truly in the
middle of the city, and the umbrageous plane trees alone produced that
illimitable air which is always so pleasing and effective. The house,
though lofty for an eastern mansion, was only one story in height, yet
its front was covered with an external and double staircase. This, after
a promenade in the garden, the guests approached and mounted. It led
to the roof or terrace of the house, which was of great size, an oblong
square, and which again was a garden. Myrtle trees of a considerable
height, and fragrant with many flowers, were arranged in close order
along the four sides of this roof, forming a barrier which no eye from
the city beneath or any neighbouring terrace could penetrate. This
verdant bulwark, however, opened at each corner of the roof, which was
occupied by a projecting pavilion of white marble, a light cupola of
chequered carving supported by wreathe