one shouted in the throng.

"Do not mention the horrid things!" laughed Verus but listen to
me.--Well, the child set his little sheep up in a row each one close to
the next. He was a weaver's son. Are there any weavers here? You? and
you--ah, and you out there. If I were not my father's son I should like
to be the son of an Alexandrian weaver. You need not laugh!--Well, about
the sheep. All the little things were beautifully white but one which had
nasty black spots, and the little boy could not bear that one. He went to
the hearth, pulled out a burning stick and wanted to burn the little ugly
sheep so as only to have pretty white ones. The lambkin caught fire and
just as the flame had begun to burn the wooden skeleton of the toy a
draught from the window blew the flame towards the other little sheep and
in a minute they were all burned to ashes. Then thought the little boy,
'If only I had let the ugly sheep alone! What can I play with now?' and
he began to cry. But this was not all, for while the little rascal was
drying his eyes, the flame spread and burnt up the loom, the wool, the
flax, the woven pieces, the whole house--the town in which he was born,
and even, I believe, the boy himself!--Now worthy friends and Macedonian
citizens, reflect a moment. Any man among you who is possessed of any
property may read the moral of my fable."

"Put out the torches!" cried the wife of a charcoal dealer.

"He is right; for by reason of the Jew, we are putting the whole town in
danger!" cried the cobbler.

"The mad fools have already thrown in some brands!"

"If you fellows up there fling any more I will break your ankles for
you," shouted a flax-dealer.

"Don't try any burning," the tailor commanded, "force open the door and
have out the Jew." These words raised a storm of applause and the mob
pressed forward to the Jew's abode. No one listened to Verus any more,
and he slipped down from his slave's shoulders, placed himself in front
of the door and called out:

"In the name of Caesar and the law I command you to leave this house
unharmed."

The Roman's warning was evidently quite in earnest, and the false Eros
looked as if at this moment it would be ill-advised to try jesting with
him. But in the universal uproar only a few had heard his words, and the
hot-blooded tailor was so rash as to lay his hand on the praetor's girdle
in order to drag him away from the door with the help of his comrades.
But he paid dearly for