acts of tyranny or rapacity in which they might please | to indulge on their own account, The fertility and opulence of the Neapolitan dominions would have enabled them to bear very heavy exactions, but the more the Spaniards obtained, the more they desired, and the very ease with which existing taxes were paid, became an excuse and encouragement for fresh impositions. Thus matters proceeded, until, as an Italian historian justly remarked. "The secret fires of Vesuvius were not so numerous, nor so dangerous, as the revengeful flames which burned in the bosoms of the Neapolitan populace." During the reigns of Philip the Third and Philip the Fourth of Spain, the sufferings of the Neapolitans were aggravated by the custom which prevailed of farming the taxes. The Genoese brokers, who purchased them from the King of Spain, extorted profit in every shape and way, from the unfortunate peasant and artisan, and when profits no longer supplied their rapacity, compelled the unfortunate victims of their rapacity to yield up their little capital. Under such a system it is not wonderful that the wealth of Naples at length became exhausted; and when the Admiral of Castile, the ruling viceroy, demanded a subsidy from the assembled estates, he received a refusal which he was convinced arose from absolute poverty. He wrote to Philip the Fourth, that Naples in its present exhausted state, could not meet the new demand; he received in reply, peremptory orders to exact the subsidy, but the gallant admiral refused to become the agent of oppression, and immediately resigned the government. This excellent nobleman was succeeded by the Duke of Arcos, a man of a very opposite character. Like most Spaniards, he was haughty, vindictive, and obstinate, but unlike his countrymen, he was crafty and treacherous, He had not been long in office, when the French, then at war with Spain, sent out a fleet which threatened to invade Naples, and consequently forced the viceroy to prepare an armament for the protection of his province. The practice of that day in such an emergency, was to borrow the amount of the parliamentary grant from some capitalist, to whom a branch of the public revenue was mortgaged for the interest and repayment of the loan, and who generally derived an exorbitant profit from the transaction. Such was the general opinion of the Neapolitan resources, that a lender and money were easily found, but such, also, was the exhaustion of the country, that the viceroy's council were at their wits' end to devise an impost for its repayment. At length it was proposed by Andrea Nauclerio, the provost of the merchants, to levy a tax of one carlin per pound, on all the fruits and vegetables which were brought to market, and which then, as now, formed the principal articles of food to the lower classes at Naples. The proposition was adopted, and an edict for its enforcement issued on the 3rd of January, 1647. This tax was by no means a new invention; several viceroys had already attempted to establish it, but had finally abandoned the scheme, from a conviction of its odious and oppressive nature. The Duke of Arcos, however, was deaf to all remonstrances, and he even accused those counsellors of treason, who ventured to remind him of the homely proverb, that "Hunger will break through stone walls." Scarcely was the edict published, when loud murmurs were heard throughout the entire city of Naples. It is a city in which a large vagrant body, called the Lazzaroni, accustomed to support life at a very trifling expense, support themselves by chance jobs, because a trifling remuneration, less than Englishmen frequently bestow in alms, enables them to live in the luxury of indolence. On this numerous and dangerous class the tax pressed with enormous severity; to use their own expression, recorded by a contemporary writer, "it took the food out of their very mouths." Acts of violence succeeded to their disregarded murmurs; the viceroy could not appear abroad without being subjected to seditious clamours, and even personal insults; insurrectionary placards were posted in the market-place; and the booth erected for the collection of the tax was burned to the ground. Arcos at length, greatly alarmed, summoned his council, and went through the mockery of deliberation; but every other source of revenue was pledged and mortgaged to the outside of its value, money was to be raised at all hazards, and, of course, the consultations ended in ordering the continuance of the tax. Some efforts were made to punish those who publicly testified their dissatisfaction; but this only increased the number of secret conspirators, and the viceroy soon received an alarming warning of the perils by which he was environed. A Spanish flotilla lay in the Bay of Naples, the admiral's galley was remarkable for its strength and beauty, and 300,000 ducats were placed on board her for transmission to Spain. On the night of the 12th of May, she was discovered to be on fire, and ere means could be taken to save her, she blew up with all her treasure, and a portion of her crew. There was not one who saw the spectacle that did not feel convinced that it was the work of treachery, and the viceroy felt so much alarmed, that though he was pre-eminently superstitious, he forbade the annual procession on the 24th of June, in honour of John the Baptist, lest the collection of a multitude should lead to a sudden outbreak of insurrection. Among those who exclaimed most bitterly against the fruit tax, was Tomasso Aniello, better known by the abbreviation Mas-aniello, whose destiny it was to experience more rapid changes of condition in the ensuing troubles, than any mortal ever underwent in the same space of time. He was a handsome, lightbuilt, active, young man, not more than twenty-four years of age, but already recognised as a leader among his associates, from his readiness of wit, and great personal activity in the manly sports which delight the fishermen of Naples. His wife was detected by the tax collectors concealing a bag of flour, to evade the duty; she was grossly insulted and dragged to prison. The rest of the history must now assume the form of a journal, that our readers may the better appreciate the rapidity with which events followed each other. July 7, 1647. This was the second Sunday before the feast of our lady of Carmel, one of the festivals celebrated by the superstitious Neapolitans with circumstances of peculiar solemnity. Among other amusements, it was customary to erect a wooden fortress, which the fishermen defended disguised as Turks, while the Lazzaroni attacked it in their ordinary habiliments. So popular was this spectacle, that it was always rehearsed on the three preceding Sundays; on the Sunday of which we speak, Masaniello, who had been chosen leader of one of the parties, assembled a crowd of boys and young persons, at a very early hour, to practise their parts in the performance. It so happened that this was also a great market-day, and crowds of peasants from the neighbouring districts had come in with fruit and vegetables for sale. Either on account of the superabundant supply, or the engagement of the multitude in their sports, the market was very heavy, and purchasers could not be found for the articles. The fiscal officers insisted that the tax should be paid on everything, whether it was sold or not; but it still remained to be decided whether the tax should be paid by the peasants or by the hucksters. The dispute was referred to Nauclerio, the provost of the merchants, whom we have already mentioned as the proposer of the obnoxious impost, and he decided that the tax should be paid by those who brought the fruit to market. Masaniello's brother-in-law, a hard-working peasant from Pozzeroli, was one of the persons aggrieved by this decision; he exclaimed against the injustice of being compelled to pay for articles which had as yet produced him no profit, and his loud tones soon attracted the notice of Masaniello and his companions. They hurried into the market-place, and the peasant, now sure of support, ventured to give free scope to his indignation, by throwing about the figs, which had been the original cause of the dispute, crying out, "Take these who will, our tyrants shall have none of them!" In an instant, Masaniello, who stood by his side, seized a bunch of figs, and flinging it violently into Nauclerio's face, exclaimed, "Let them take this at the least!" This was the signal for a general riot, missiles of every description were flung at the taxgatherers and their attendants, one act of violence led to another, the toll-bars were torn down, the booths of the collectors burned, and in a very few minutes the market-place was at the mercy of an infuriate populace. Masaniello seized the opportunity of addressing his companions, indignation prompted his eloquence, and though he had no advantages of education, his harangue was one well calculated to ensure the support of the mob. He pointed out to his hearers the dangers they had already incurred by provoking the vengeance of the Spaniards, he declared that this was the crisis of their country's fate, he conjured them to stand by him, and promised in the strongest terms a redress of all the grievances of which they had to complain. Such, indeed, are the topics always used by a demagogue to inflame a multitude; but Masaniello was not an orator who traded on excitement, it was a mere accident which elevated him to be the author and leader of a movement. But his career fully proved the perils that arise from stimulating the passions of the ignorant, and added one to the many proofs which history affords of the impossibility of . correcting evils by an appeal to physical force, without producing calamities infinitely greater than the oppressions which led to the insurrection. Goaded onwards by the fiery harangue of Masaniello, the mob rushed from the market-place; some armed themselves with their ordinary implements of industry, others broke open the shops of the gunsmiths and seized the weapons they contained; the houses of the farmers of taxes were broken open, shots were fired into the houses of persons supposed to be favourable to the Spaniards, and many took the opportunity of revenging private quarrels under pretence of zeal for the public cause. At first the insurgents abstained from plunder, but in this as in countless other instances, the vehemence of patriotism was soon unable to restrain the lust of pillage; the women who had joined the rioters, gave the example of pilfering, which soon extended into a regular system of robbery. As yet the insurgents had no acknowledged leader; like all vulgar rioters they wished to have a member of the aristocracy, and accidentally meeting the Prince of Bisignano, they compelled him to act as their chief. But though the Neapolitan nobles were justly indignant at the tyranny of the Spanish viceroy, they were too wise to countenance the outbreak of the populace; they knew full well that a mob, after having used the nobles, whom deluded ambition has led to participate in their efforts, must eventually yield to the natural jealousy with which the lower orders regard their superiors and fling them away as broken tools, too fine and too weak to execute the rough work required by an imperious democracy. Shocked at the excesses he was compelled to witness, the Prince took the earliest opportunity of escape, while the confused masses spread over the city, began to direct their forces on one common centre and move towards the viceroy's palace. The viceregal guards made a faint effort to resist the popular current, but they were soon overcome, and a body of the rioters forcing their way into the viceroy's presence, imperiously demanded not only the abolition of the obnoxious impost on fruit, but of all other taxes and impositions whatever. Terrified by violence, destitute of any force on which he could rely, and perceiving that the popular excitement increased every hour, the Duke of Arcos readily assented to every demand; but his compliance did not allay the tumult, the mob began to destroy his most valuable furniture, and did not abstain from personal violence. He attempted to escape in a coach, but was detected, abused, threatened and struck; by flinging money among the mob, he diverted their attention for a moment, and while they were eagerly engaged in a scramble, he succeeded in making his escape. After his departure, the moo proclaimed Masaniello "Captain General of the faithful people of Naples," he who had been an humble fisherman in the morning, was an absolute sovereign ere the night closed in. He nominated a council composed of the lowest and most infamous of the rioters, but, in the true spirit of a low democrat, flushed by temporary power, he did not permit his fellow rebels to deliberate on his orders; indeed he would scarcely deign to listen to their advice He Even at this early stage of the revolution, symptoms were perceptible of the insanity to which Masaniello ultimately fell a victim, and which was necessarily ripened by the excitement of the strange circumstances in which he found himself placed. made the tower of the Carmelites his head-quarters, and there, while his council talked rather than deliberated, he stood in moody silence, warming his hands over a chafing-dish of coals. The only answer he made to repeated inquiries was, "I feel a burning and a heaviness as if my brain were overflowed by molten lead; but the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Saints appear to me every night, and promise me their assistance and protection. I have promised freedom to the people and they shall be free, yes I promise it, I swear it, they shall be free." This and similar broken speeches were uttered with maniac vehemence, which made them pass with his deluded votaries for words of inspiration. They unhesitatingly obeyed his orders to break open all the prisons, and liberate the captives; they massacred the few inhabitants who ventured to resist, and they set fire to the mansions of several obnoxious individuals. One of the houses which became the prey of the incendiaries, contained a large quantity of gun-powder, it was blown up, and eighty seven persons lost their lives. Sunday night was spent sleeplessly by the population of Naples; the flames of burning houses lighted every quarter of the city; the shrieks of the wounded and the lamentations of the relatives of the slain were heard in every street, save where the imperious insurgents forcibly compelled silence. HISTORY OF THE OLIVE TREE, AND THE MODE OF PREPARING THE OIL. non. No. I THE Olive-tree (Olea Europea,) came originally from Asia, and grows abundantly about Aleppo and LebaIt is naturalized in many parts of Southern Europe, being found in woods and hedges, and in this wild state produces a small fruit of no value. When cultivated, however, it becomes one of the richest productions of the South. It is an evergreen tree, with thick and leathery leaves, well calculated to resist the action of water, as they once did for the space of two hundred and seventy-one days; the period that elapsed from the day on which "the fountains of the great deep were broken up," until the evening when the dove came in to Noah, "and lo! in her mouth was an Olive-leaf pluckt off." And ever since, in all ages and countries, wherever this tree is known, has its branch been the favourite emblem of peace. The same chapter of Genesis also illustrates the locality of the Olive. The ark had rested on Mount Ararat one hundred and fourteen days, and the tops of the mountains had been seen forty days, yet when Noah sent forth the dove the first time, it returned, finding "no rest for the sole of her foot;' and it was not until seven more days had passed that the waters had retired from the plains, valleys, and rocky ravines where the dove is accustomed to seek its food, and in which the Olive delights to grow. The flowers are delicately small and white, are very numerous, and fall off in showers when the tree is shaken; so Eliphaz, upbraiding Job for his sins and misfortunes, and alluding to the loss of his children, says, "The wicked man shall shake off his unripe grape as the vine, and shall cast off his flower as the Olive." (Job xv. 33.) The oval fruit has a delicate light-blue bloom upon it, but when this is rubbed off, is of a deep purple colour, shines, and has lost its beauty. To an English eye this tree has, at first sight, no striking characteristic of beauty. Its height, which rarely exceeds thirty feet, creates no idea of grandeur, which in countries like England, that abound with lofty forest trees, is considered one of, if not the chief, element of beauty in trees. Again, it has a most sober hue that ill agrees with our preconceived notions of the golden tints of southern foliage; hence those, who in the rapidity of travelling glance at it with a careless eye, are generally disappointed, and hence it is almost universally compared with our own willow. Southey speaks of its "willowy foliage," but the points of resemblance are not sufficiently well marked to justify the comparison of an Olive-grove with an ozier-holt. It is true that both trees are of about equal height, and have the under surface of their leaves of a lighter colour than the upper, which is very beautiful when their branches are turned or lifted by the wind. The cultivated Olive, too, is pollarded or deprived of some of its branches in order to develop the young wood; but as the fruit is the object and not merely the wood, as is the case with the willow, its branches are never destroyed year after year, and, consequently, it never has the unsightly appearance that that tree has when deprived of all its foliage. The poet Virgil contrasts the Olive with the willow. Making a shepherd praise one man at the expense of another, he says, "You are as much superior to him, as the dusky willow yields in beauty to the pale Olive." But it has charms superior, not only to the willow, but to most other trees. If the eye is not attracted towards it at first by any striking beauty, there are few natural objects that improve so much upon acquaintance. The more you see it, the more its graceful form and quiet beauty wins your admiration. It appears to greatest advantage in rocky situations, in the country round Athens for example, where an absence of general vegetation, during the warmer months, produces a beautiful contrast between the naked and burning rocks and the luxurious Olivegroves of the lower lands. A more beautiful scene can hardly be imagined than that from the Acropolis, a rocky fortress that rises abruptly on the south side of the city: standing within the portico of its Parthenon, you look down upon Mars' Hill, where St. Paul declared unto the superstitious Greeks the unknown God whom they ignorantly worshipped; beyond is the scarcely less famous pulpit of Themistocles, but it is to the plain to which the eye flies for relief, for See there the Olive-grove of Academe Plato's retirement. Previous to the late revolution, this grove extended from the walls of the city to the sea; but during the war, 20,000 trees were burnt, and many an old tree may now be seen reduced to charcoal on one side, yet retaining its vitality on the other. The annexed figure represents one that had actually been burnt into two separate trees, resting against each other for mutual support, yet loaded with fruit at the time the sketch was taken. Some of these were purposely destroyed by the enemy, and some were cut for firewood. The facility with which this tree takes fire, even when standing in the green state, was not unknown to the ancients, and is thus noticed by Virgil: Sparkling fire from hind's unwary hands DRYDEN's Virg. Georgics. II. Since the peace, many thousand trees have been destroyed by floods. Drainage has been neglected, and the water stood for months upon the roots, and eventually killed the trees. A burning sun acting upon this mass of decayed vegetable matter, generated one of the most dreadful fevers that ever visited Athens. It paralysed the whole population; for two seasons there was scarcely an indication of exertion to cultivate the soil. In the suburbs, where scraps of land are generally so precious, there were no gardens; a few fig-trees and a solitary palm, which the war had spared, were almost the only remnants of former industry: but the Government, in 1835, had succeeded in draining the whole of the neighbouring country, and the Olive-grove of Athens was rapidly recovering from its losses by fire and water. A volume might be written upon the historical associations of the Olive. It is frequently mentioned in the Bible both in its cultivated and wild state. The promised land abounded with Olives, it was "a land of Oil, olive, and honey." It was cultivated by kings as well as by their subjects. David set officers over his "Olive-trees in the low plains," "and over the cellars of oil." (1 Chron. xxvii. 28.) To be deprived of it, was one of the temporal punishments of the disobedient Israelites. "Thou shalt have Olivetrees throughout all thy coast, but thou shalt not anoint thyself with the oil: for thine Olive shall cast his fruit." (Deut. xxviii. 40.) And Samuel, speaking of the oppressions of a king, says, "He will take your Olive-yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants." (1 Sam. viii. 14.) We can trace the custom of using Olive-oil in religious ceremonies to the highest antiquity. Jacob poured it upon the pillar that he set up in Beth-el. (Gen. xxviii. 18.) The holy anointing oil of the temple was Olive-oil, scented with myrrh, cinnamon, sweet calamus and cassia. The Mount of Olives is consecrated to us by the holiest associations. At the foot of the Mount, over the brook Cedron, is the Garden of Gethsemane, and according to Major Skinner, one of the latest travellers in the East, it abounds at the present day with exceedingly old Olive-trees. To this garden, "Jesus ofttimes resorted with his disciples." It was the scene of his prayer, of his agony, and betrayal. In one of her beautiful sonnets, Mrs. Hemans has adverted to the awful circumstances connected with this spot. The palm-the vine-the cedar-each hath power To bid fair oriental shapes glance by, And each quick glistening of the laurel bower Wafts Grecian images o'er fancy's eye: But thou, pale Olive! in thy branches lie Far deeper spells than prophet-grove of old Might e'er enshrine :-I could not hear thee sigh One shiver of thy leaves dim silvery green, When pale stars looked upon his fainting head, And angels ministering in silent dread Trembled, perchance, within thy trembling shade. This tree was a great favourite with the ancient Greeks. They held it in such esteem, that the Athenians imagined that Minerva, the patron goddess of their city, created it peculiarly for them :-a superstition which arose from the crafty policy so eminently characteristic of their nation. In the time of Themistocles, some of the nobles, for the purpose of opposing his views, which were directed towards making them a maritime and warlike nation, and to induce the ignorant multitude to turn their attention more to agriculture, invented the fable of a contention between Minerva and Neptune for the honour of protecting the city of Athens. The assembly of the gods promised the preference to whichever of the two gave the most necessary and useful present to the inhabitants of the earth. Neptune, upon this, struck the ground with his trident, and immediately a horse issued from the earth. Minerva produced the Olive, and obtained the victory by the unanimous voice of the gods, who observed, that the Olive, which is the emblem of peace, is far preferable to the horse, which is the symbol of war and bloodshed. When in the island of Teaki, the ancient Ithaca, the writer saw an antique seal upon which, in As sacred history made the Olive emblematic of peace, so, from its great value to man, has it been universally considered the symbol of plenty. As such we find it on the coins of those countries of which it is not a native; our own Britannia holds in her right hand the Olive-branch of peace and plenty. "if Scarcely an ancient custom existed in Greece with which we do not find this tree, in some way, associated. The wild Olive was never used on these occasions, but there were plantations sacred to their religious rites and festivities; and it was sacrilege to use them for any other purpose. A law existed, " any one plucks up the sacred Olive-trees at Athens, beside the two yearly allowed at the public festivals and funerals, he shall pay one hundred drachms (31. 4s. 7d.,) for every one unlawfully pulled up, the tenth part of which fine shall be due to Minerva." The victors at the Olympic games were crowned with wreaths of a peculiar variety of the Olive, which was brought by Hercules (so fable will have it,) from the Scythians, and planted near Olympia, where it flourished. It was called Callistephanos, that is, fit for crowns; and it was forbidden, under a great penalty, to cut it for any other use. Games, similar to these were revived at Athens in 1835, and Otho, the amiable young King of Greece, crowned the victors with wreaths of Olives. In all festivals in which Minerva was concerned, we find the Olive used as believed to be most acceptable to her. At the lesser Panathenæa, an Athenian festival in honour of her, the conqueror at the games then held, was rewarded with a vessel of Olive-oil, which he was permitted to dispose of how and where he pleased, whereas it was unlawful for any other to transport that commodity: further, he received a crown of those Olives which grew in the Academy and were sacred to Minerva. At their marriages every part of the bridegroom s house, and more particularly the door, was decorated with flowers and boughs upon the nuptial day. Plutarch says that the Olive was more particularly used for this purpose. The same custom is seen, at the present day, both in private and public rejoicings. When the king of Bavaria, the father of Otho the First, paid a visit to his son, there was scarcely a doorpost in the streets of Athens through which he passed that was not covered with myrtle and Olive-boughs. No. XIV. At the ancient funerals the body, after being washed | EASY LESSONS ON CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES. was anointed with Olive-oil; cups of oil, together with incense, were thrown upon the burning pile, and the priests at the end of the ceremony ..dipped an Olive-branch in holy dew, Which thrice he sprinkled round; and thrice aloud Invoked the dead, and then dismissed the crowd. It was a privilege of the citizens to use the oil in the schools of exercise, for one of the laws relating to these schools was, that "no slave shall presume to anoint." In the ancient baths there was a room for the purpose of anointing with oil, to close the pores of the body after the use of the hot baths, and to prevent the skin from becoming rough after the water was dried off. Pliny says that, at the time of the Trojan war, they had no better unguent than common olive oil perfumed with odoriferous herbs, especially roses. It was considered effeminate for the men to use even this, and, at a much later period, the Greek virgins were not allowed to anoint themselves with any odorous unguent, but used simple olive oil. Minerva and Diana are represented as rejecting perfumed oils. Solon made a law that "no man shall sell perfumes;" but Socrates was of opinion that it was decent enough for women to smell of perfumed unguents, but that men should rather smell of oil, an opinion which the modern Greeks seem very generally to have retained, and actual contact is unnecessary to detect their partiality for it. The Olive-tree was scarcely less a favourite with the Romans, although it was not held in the same sacred light as amongst the Greeks; the ivy and the vine in some measure superseding its use. Their gardengod, however, was adorned with it; this god, usually cut out of the trunk of some old tree, was crowned with various wreaths peculiar to each season. In spring, it was decorated with flowers, with corn in summer, with the vine in autumn, and with the Olive in winter, the most appropriate season for it, as at any other period either the flowers or fruit would be destroyed. In a poem ascribed to Catullus, this rustic god is represented as saying Soon as the vernal season smiles, The Romans, ever superstitious, were in notning more so than the uses to which they religiously applied certain woods, some of which they called "fortunate," others "unfortunate." When they burnt anything bad or ill-omened, they made use of such unfortunate trees that were under the protection of the infernal gods, as the holly and all kinds of thorny shrubs; on the other hand, the Olive, fig, pear, and apple trees, and the vine, and many other trees, that were valuable for their productions, they used on joyous and fortunate events. The wild Olive, as being unproductive and useless, was classed with the former, and the cultivated with the latter. The oil was more used in their toilet than in that of the Greeks. Catullus, accusing some luxurious Latin youth of effeminacy, says, that his couch was "fragrant with chaplets of flowers and perfumed with the Syrian Olive oil." Any one would suppose that oil of a superior quality was, at that period, an article of commerce between Syria and Italy; but any rich odour was termed Syrian with the Romans, and in this case with great propriety, as the Olive came originally from that part of Asia. MODERN JEWS. PART II. IT is likely that when Jerusalem and its Temple were destroyed, several of the Jews who had till then rejected the Gospel, may have been at length converted, by the strong additional evidence which was thus afforded. They saw the heavy judgment that fell on their nation; and that it was such as to make the observance of their law impossible. They saw, also, that the event agreed with what Jesus had predicted forty years before. And they saw, too, that those of his followers who had been living in Jerusalem, had been enabled to escape destruction by following his directions, and fleeing to the mountains as soon as they saw Jerusalem encompassed by an army. It is, therefore, likely that several may have been led by this additional evidence to embrace the Christian faith. But of this we have no records; as the book of Acts takes in only an earlier period. And in that book we have no particulars of the numbers of those Jews who were converted; though it appears they must have amounted to many thousands, indeed, many myriads; that is, tens of thousands; as is said in the original Greek of Acts xxi. 20. But still these made but a small portion only of that great nation. And as the Jewish Christians would soon become mingled with the Gentile Christians, and cease to be a separate people, hence, all those who are known as Jews at this day, are the descendants of those who rejected the Gospel. They are computed to amount, at the present time, notwithstanding the prodigious slaughter of them, at the taking of their city, and on several other occasions, to no less a number than 4,800,000, scattered through various parts of the world; everywhere mixing and trading with other nations; but everywhere kept distinct from them by their peculiar faith and religious observances. And everywhere they preserve and read with the utmost reverence their sacred books which foretell the coming of the Messiah, or Christ, at a time which (by their own computations) is long since past, namely, about the time when Jesus did appear. Their books foretell, also, such judgments as their nation is suffering; and foretell, too, what is most remarkable, that notwithstanding all this they shall still remain a separate people, unmixed with the other nations. You should observe, too, that these prophecies are such as no one would ever have made by guess. Nothing could have been more unlikely than the events which have befallen the Jewish nation. Nothing like them has ever been foretold of any other nation; or has ever happened to any other. There are, indeed, many cases recorded in history, of one nation conquering another, and either driving them out of the country, or keeping them in subjection. But in all these cases, the conquered people who have lost their country, either settle themselves in some other land, or if they are wholly dispersed, generally become gradually mixed and blended with other nations; as, for example, the Britons and Saxons, and Danes and Normans, have been mixed up into one people in England. The only people who at all resemble the Jews in having been widely dispersed and yet remaining distinct, are the people commonly called Gipsies, and whose proper name is Zinganies, Jinganies. It has been made out that they are an East-Indian nation, speaking a Hindoo dialect. And they are widely scattered through the world, keeping up their language and some customs of their own, in all the countries |