ABSTRACT
Mowbray’s indifference was often a happy relief to my anxiety of temper to my susceptibility about the feelings, and the indications of change in the feelings of others. His gross mode of judging, or as he insisted on my stating it, his mode of estimating in the gross, often corrected wonderfully well my over-nice calculations. Sometimes, however, he was too positive, that what he did not see did not exist; he was in the habit of rallying me, before Mr Montenero and Berenice, on what I considered as a very tender and dangerous point — on my early antipathy to the Jews.
