The congregation, facing about to look at the Jew in the gallery, amongst the negroes, were surprised to see tears on his gray eyelashes, and the colored elders, who loved Issachar exceedingly, exclaimed, in stentorian chorus: 

“Praise God for dat Israelite, in whom dar is no guile!  Hallelujah!”

Then, as if the Christmas frost had melted, these grateful exclamations made warmth at once in both races, and encouraged the orator in his extemporization.  Issachar began to appreciate the possibility of the founder of a more liberal sect of Jews, whose charitable hand should be extended to Gentiles also, and whose heaven should comprehend all the posterity of Adam.  Perhaps his son’s portrait was in his mind—­that loving son who had but just departed in the interests of the law of Moses and the restoration of the Temple.  At the end of the sermon alms were invited for the support of the minister and the propagation of such a gospel as he had preached.  With a mixture of pride and humility old Issachar descended the gallery stairs and walked up the aisle, and, taking the crucifix from his breast, planted it upon the altar.

“There,” he said, “if your sect asserts the sentiments of this sermon, you are entitled to this rich image.  I am repaid for its possession by a son of Gentile parentage whose obedience has been the delight of my old years, and for the gift God has given me in him, I tender you this counterfeit of Jesus nailed on the Roman scaffold.”

The congregation gazed a minute at the golden cross.  Ireful laughter broke forth, followed by rage.

“The pagan!  The papist!  The Turk!  The idolater!” they exclaimed.  “He mocks the memory of our Saviour on Christmas morning!  Out with him!”

The Jew recovered the crucifix and put it beneath his mantle.  He vouchsafed no reply except a scornful “Ha! ha! ha!” and with this he strode out of the Methodist meeting, rejoined his boatmen, and returned to the island of Chincoteague.

Years passed, and the Jew grew very feeble.  He had lasted his fourscore and ten years, and prosperity had attended him through all, and children loved him; but, true to his first and only fondness, his heart was ever across the sea, where gentle Abraham, studiously intent amongst the Rabbis, communicated with his father by every mail and raised the old man’s mind to a height of serious appreciation which greed and commerce had never given him.  Although hungering for his boy, Issachar forebore to disturb young Abraham’s studies until a bitter illness came to him, and in his gloom and solitude his great want burst from his lips, and he said aloud: 

“Almighty Father!  What will it avail to these old bones if the Temple be rebuilded, and I die without placing my hands on the eyelids of my boy and blessing him in Thy name?  I will pluck from this Christian image the last jewel and dispose of it, that he may return and place his hands in mine, and receive my benediction, and gladden me with his gratitude.”