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+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The New Land, by Elma Ehrlich Levinger</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The New Land</p>
+<p>       Stories of Jews Who Had a Part in the Making of Our Country</p>
+<p>Author: Elma Ehrlich Levinger</p>
+<p>Release Date: October 8, 2007  [eBook #22915]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW LAND***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Suzanne Lybarger, Jeannie Howse,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="tr">
+<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p>
+<br />
+<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved.</p>
+<p class="noin">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.<br />
+For a complete list, please see the <a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</p>
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE NEW LAND</h1>
+
+<h3><i>STORIES OF JEWS WHO HAD A PART<br />
+IN THE MAKING OF OUR COUNTRY</i></h3>
+
+<h3>By</h3>
+
+<h2>ELMA EHRLICH LEVINGER</h2>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A new world, with great portals far outflung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holding a hope more sweet than time had sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which the Jew, of life's high quest a part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A pilgrim came, the Torah in his heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A land of promise, and fulfillment too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where on a sudden olden dreams came true....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here grew we part of an ennobled state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave and won honor, sat among the great,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And saw unfolding to our 'raptured view<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day long prayed for by the patient Jew."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4"><i>From "The Jew in America," by Felix N. Gerson</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h5 style="margin-bottom: -1.25em;">NEW YORK<br />
+BLOCH PUBLISHING COMPANY</h5>
+<h6>"THE JEWISH BOOK CONCERN"</h6>
+<h5 style="margin-top: -1.25em;">1920</h5>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h5><i>Copyright, 1920, by</i><br />
+BLOCH PUBLISHING COMPANY</h5>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h4>TO<br />
+<span style="font-size: 125%; font-family: cursive;"><i>Grandmother and Grandfather Levinger</i></span><br />
+THESE "STORIES THAT REALLY HAPPENED"<br />
+ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</h4>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<h3>A LETTER TO MY READERS.</h3>
+<br />
+
+<div class="block">
+<p class="noin"><i>Dear Boys and Girls</i>:</p>
+
+<p>When your grandfather tells you a story, do you ever interrupt him to
+ask: "But is it all true?" And doesn't he often answer: "I don't
+know," or "I don't know when it's really true, and when it begins to
+be like a story book." And so, when you read through my little
+book&mdash;if you do read right through it to the very last page&mdash;you may
+wonder whether all my history stories really happened.</p>
+
+<p>Yes&mdash;and no! I do know that cross old Peter Stuyvesant of New
+Amsterdam hated our people, but I never found any record of the Jewish
+boy who wanted to play with the governor's niece, pretty Katrina. The
+histories tell us how gallant young Franks became the friend of George
+Washington, but none of them mention that the Jewish soldier saved a
+Tory from the angry mob.</p>
+
+<p>You understand now, don't you? So I'm going to turn the page right
+away that you may read for yourselves of the three Jews who whispered
+together on the deck of the "Santa Maria," as Columbus and his crew
+crossed the Sea of Darkness in search of a New Land.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">E.E.L.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<div class="block"><p><span class="smcap">Note</span>: The author expresses her thanks to the editors of
+<i>The Hebrew Standard</i> and <i>The Jewish Child</i> in which the
+stories, "In the Night Watches" and "A Place of Refuge,"
+originally appeared.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h3>CONTENTS.</h3>
+<br />
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="70%" summary="Table of Contents">
+  <tr>
+  <td width="80%" class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td width="20%" class="tdr"><span style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#NIGHT_WATCHES">IN THE NIGHT WATCHES</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">9</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The Three who came with Columbus.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#WHEN_KATRINA">WHEN KATRINA LOST HER WAY</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">14</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>A tale of the First Jewish Settlers of New Amsterdam.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_PLACE_OF_REFUGE">A PLACE OF REFUGE</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">33</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>How the Wanderer came to Rhode Island.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#KING_GEORGE">"DOWN WITH KING GEORGE"</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">39</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>How Isaac Franks, of the American army, first heard the
+     Declaration of Independence.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_LAST_SERVICE">THE LAST SERVICE</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">52</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The story of a Rabbi who lived in New York when it was
+     captured by the British in 1776.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_GENEROUS_GIVER">THE GENEROUS GIVER</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">68</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The story of a Jewish money-lender of the Revolution.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#ACROSS_THE_WATERS">ACROSS THE WATERS</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">88</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>A story of the City of Refuge planned by Mordecai Noah.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THREE_AT_GRACE">THREE AT GRACE</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">105</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The story of the first Jewish settler in Alabama.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_LUCKY_STONE">THE LUCKY STONE</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">122</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the first naval officer of his day.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_PRINCESS">THE PRINCESS OF PHILADELPHIA</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">140</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The story of Rebecca Gratz and Washington Irving.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_PRESENT">A PRESENT FOR MR. LINCOLN</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">160</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>How President Lincoln set out for Washington and how he returned.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_LAND">THE LAND COLUMBUS FOUND</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">173</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdlp"><i>The story of the tablet placed upon the Statue of
+     Liberty in New York Harbor.</i></td>
+  <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="NIGHT_WATCHES" id="NIGHT_WATCHES"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span><br />
+
+<h2>THE NEW LAND</h2>
+<br />
+
+<h3>IN THE NIGHT WATCHES</h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Three Who Came With Columbus.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>For a while there was no sound save the soft swish-swish of the waves
+as the "Santa Maria," the flagship of Columbus, ploughed its way
+through the darkness. The moon had long since disappeared and one by
+one the stars had left the sky until only the morning star remained to
+guide Alonzo de la Calle, crouching above his pilot wheel. The man's
+eyes ached for sleep, his fingers were numb from dampness and fatigue,
+his heart heavy with despair. "Dawn," he muttered at last, "almost the
+last of the night watches; Gonzalo will take my place at the wheel and
+I can sleep."</p>
+
+<p>In the shifting light of the ship's lantern, swinging from the mast
+above his head, the pilot saw Bernal, the ship's doctor, advancing
+toward him; a little dark man, who dragged one foot as he walked. He
+would have passed without speaking; but Alonzo, hungry for
+companionship, caught his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in high favor with Columbus," he began, "and he confides in
+you. Tell me, is he still <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>determined to go on if the next few days do
+not bring us to land?"</p>
+
+<p>The ship's doctor nodded almost sullenly, yet there was pride in his
+voice when he spoke. "The admiral will not turn back. Not though the
+very boards of our three vessels mutiny and refuse him obedience. He
+will go on!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is madness. It is already seventy days since we left our fair land
+of Spain, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Bernal interrupted him with a mocking laugh. "'Our fair land of
+Spain'," he sneered, "is not the land of the Jew nor have we found it
+fair." But before he could speak further, the other clapped a warning
+hand over his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" exclaimed the little pilot, "Hush! We may be overheard, and,
+though our admiral is gentle to the sons of Israel, it might fare ill
+with us if the crew were to learn that there were 'secret Jews' on
+board. See, some one is coming&mdash;&mdash;. Be silent," and he pointed to one
+who moved slowly toward them.</p>
+
+<p>But Bernal laughed. "It is only Luis de Torres, the interpreter, one
+of our own people. <i>Shalom Aleicha</i>," he addressed himself to the
+newcomer, who answered, "<i>Aleichem Shalom</i>," but softly, glancing over
+his shoulder as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>"Even in the midst of the Sea of Darkness you fear to use our holy
+tongue," taunted the physician. "We are no longer in Spain where the
+very walls of our houses had ears to hear our <i>Shema</i> and tongues to
+betray us to the officers of the Inquisition when we failed to come to
+their cursed masses." His <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>face twisted with rage as he pointed to his
+useless foot. "In Valencia I was denounced to the Inquisition,
+tortured almost unto death. But I escaped with my life; and now
+instead of spending my last days in peace in the land of my fathers I
+have come on this mad voyage across a sea without shore." He laughed
+harshly. "Yet even on these endless waves, I am safer than in the
+pleasant land of Spain."</p>
+
+<p>Luis de Torres, who had stood leaning over the vessel's side, turned
+toward the speaker, his sensitive face showing pale and grave in the
+light of the swaying lantern. "Ah, Bernal," he said sadly, "has not
+the whole world become a great sea of endless waves for the unhappy
+children of Israel?" He shuddered slightly and drew his rich cloak
+more tightly about him. "I am a strong man; but I sicken and grow
+faint when I think of the tens of thousands of our brethren we saw
+scourged from the land of Spain even as we embarked and our three
+vessels were about to leave the port."</p>
+
+<p>"Truly," Alonzo muttered, "truly, even a strong man may wish to forget
+what our eyes have seen. Night after night as I stand at my wheel I
+can see them, old men and little children and women with their babes.
+Where will they find rest?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no rest for Israel." It was Bernal who spoke in his sullen
+passion. "'Twas the ninth of <i>Ab</i> when our brethren were driven
+forth&mdash;the ninth of <i>Ab</i>; the day on which our Temple fell. Then we
+were scattered beneath the sky, but we thought at last that in the
+land of Spain we had found a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>refuge. But there is no refuge for
+Israel, no rest for Him until death."</p>
+
+<p>The sad eyes of Luis de Torres glowed with a strange light. "Nay,
+friend," he corrected gently, "the God of Israel will not forget His
+children forever. Who knows that this new route to India, of which the
+admiral dreams, may not lead us to a new land, an undiscovered place
+where no Jew will suffer for his faith. But, O God!" he cried with
+sudden pain, "We have waited so long, and still our people wander and
+are tossed to and fro, as we are tossed about by the waves of this
+unknown sea. Must each century bring its new <i>Tisha B'ab</i>, must we
+indeed suffer forever? Where is rest for us? What land will give us
+refuge?"</p>
+
+<p>He raised his face to the brightening sky, his hands tearing at the
+gold chain about his throat. No one spoke for a moment, nor even moved
+until Alonzo turned back to his wheel, his eyes bright with strange
+tears. A cry burst from him; a cry of unbelieving joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Land! Land!" and he pointed a trembling finger toward the misty
+outlines of palm trees, straight and slender beneath the early morning
+sky. Bernal echoed his cry with a great shout and in a moment, from
+every part of the ship, men came pouring, wide-eyed and unbelieving
+that they had crossed the Sea of Darkness at last. In their midst came
+a quiet man; a tall man with iron-gray hair and a firm mouth, who at
+first spoke no word, only gazed dumbly at the fulfillment of his
+dreams, stretching before him in the silvery light.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>"We have reached India," said Columbus at last.</p>
+
+<p>Those about him laughed shrilly in their joy or wept or prayed.
+Alonzo, his eyes snapping with excitement, wrenched his wheel with
+hands no longer tired, and Bernal, the sneer for once absent from his
+lips, gazed with tense face toward the palm trees.</p>
+
+<p>Only Luis de Torres stood apart, his face still convulsed from his
+passionate outburst of grief for his people. For, like the others, he
+could not know that instead of a new route to India a mighty continent
+had been discovered; nor did the unhappy dreamer dream that a very
+land of refuge and of hope for the wandering sons of Israel, lay
+before him across the smiling waters.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="WHEN_KATRINA" id="WHEN_KATRINA"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>WHEN KATRINA LOST HER WAY<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>A Tale of the First Jewish Settlers of New Amsterdam.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The warm spring sunshine forced its way through the tiny
+diamond-shaped window panes to fall in a bright pool of light upon the
+table cloth and blue cups and bowls Mary Barsimon had brought with her
+from Holland. It was a pleasant room, shining with the exquisite
+neatness that characterized the dwelling of every Dutch housewife in
+New Amsterdam with the same simple, well-made furniture and bright
+hand-woven rugs. Yet it differed strikingly in two or three details
+from the other homes in the Dutch settlement; on the mantle-piece,
+above the blue-tiled fire-place, stood two brass candle-sticks for the
+Sabbath, while on the eastern wall hung a quaint wood-cut representing
+scenes from the Bible; Abraham sacrificing Isaac, Jacob dreaming of
+the ladder reaching up to heaven. This <i>Mizrach</i>, Samuel's father had
+once told him, hung upon the eastern wall of every good Jewish home,
+that at prayer all might be reminded to turn toward the east and face
+the site of the Temple at Jerusalem. For centuries the Temple had been
+in ruins and the children of those who had worshipped there scattered
+to the four corners of the earth. Jacob Barsimon himself had wandered
+from Spain to Holland, from Amsterdam to Jamaica, from Jamaica to the
+Dutch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>colony of New Amsterdam upon the Atlantic; yet in all his
+wanderings he had brought with him the old <i>Mizrach</i>; and he still
+taught his twelve-year-old son to pray with his face toward the land
+of his fathers.</p>
+
+<p>It was before this <i>Mizrach</i> that Jacob Barsimon stood one early
+spring morning in the year 1655, when New Amsterdam was still free
+from the rule of the English who were to re-name the colony New York.
+He stared at it with unseeing eyes, frowning darkly, his long, slender
+hands plucking nervously at the buttons of his coat. Samuel, assisting
+the young colored slave girl in removing the breakfast dishes, glanced
+at his father from time to time a little nervously, although he could
+not recall any prank or misdeed on his part that might have angered
+him. But his mother, after watching her husband for a few moments from
+her low chair at the window where she sat dressing the chubby
+two-year-old Rebecca, broke the heavy silence by asking:</p>
+
+<p>"What is wrong, Jacob? What troubles you?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Jacob Barsimon said nothing, but frowned more darkly than
+ever. At last he spoke. "Have you forgotten that a month from tomorrow
+is Samuel's birthday&mdash;that he will be thirteen?"</p>
+
+<p>A tender smile played about the mother's mouth. "Surely, I remember
+the day he was born as well as though it were yesterday." She sighed a
+little, her hands busy with the buttons of the little girl's dress,
+her eyes gazing dreamily through the window. "We were still in
+Amsterdam, in dear old Holland, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>our own people. Do you remember,
+Jacob, how on the day when he was made a 'Son of the Covenant,' your
+old uncle acted as godfather and all of our neighbors&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jacob Barsimon interrupted her with a bitter laugh. "Neighbors! Yes,
+we had neighbors then, our own people, who were with us in joy and
+sorrow. But here, Jacob Aboaf and I are merely tolerated by the
+burghers. True, they allowed us to land when we came from Jamaica on
+the 'Pear Tree.' They have allowed me to trade with the Indies&mdash;as
+well they might, for even Peter Stuyvesant himself dare not say that
+we two Hebrews have ever been guilty of dishonesty in our trading
+ventures. But we are not at home here as we were in Holland or
+Jamaica; we are aliens and strangers and now comes this last insult to
+our people&mdash;to refuse them the right of residence here."</p>
+
+<p>Frau Barsimon nodded gravely. "Yes, I know well why your heart is so
+bitter with disappointment when you think that it is almost time for
+our Samuel's <i>barmitzvah</i> and that save our neighbor, Jacob Aboaf,
+there may be none of our own people here to help us rejoice when
+Samuel becomes a 'Son of the Law.' And yet," she spoke cheerily
+enough, rocking the rosy baby upon her knee, "and yet, who knows but
+that by next <i>Shabbath</i> our Jewish friends will be granted the right
+of settling here? And if they are still here when Samuel's birthday
+comes," she nodded brightly to the wondering boy who had remained near
+the table, drinking in every word, "you will have a <i>minyan</i> (ten men
+required for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>Jewish ceremony) to hear you recite your <i>barmitzvah</i>
+speech and eat the feast I shall prepare for them." She sprang up
+suddenly, the baby tucked under one arm as she began to pile dishes
+with her free hand, scolding the slave girl as energetically as she
+worked for not having the table cleared. For if Frau Barsimon ever
+allowed herself the luxury of a moment's rest or gossip, she never
+failed to regain lost time by working twice as hard&mdash;and noisily&mdash;as
+soon as she took hold again.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," asked Samuel, forgetting the cakes and ale of his
+<i>barmitzvah</i> party for a moment, "just why won't they let the Jews who
+came from South America last fall live in New Amsterdam like the rest
+of us? In Holland the Dutch were always kind to our people and in the
+Indies they allowed you to trade in peace."</p>
+
+<p>Barsimon did not answer until the slow-handed, sharp-eared little
+slave girl had followed his wife into the kitchen. When he spoke his
+voice was tinged with a harsh bitterness. "Wiser men than you have
+asked that question, my boy, and no one has yet found an answer. True,
+Holland and those lands ruled by the Dutch have been places of refuge
+for us. No wonder that the poor souls who left Brazil in the 'St.
+Catarina' hoped to receive honorable treatment here at the hands of
+the burghers. It may be that they fear the rivalry of our brethren in
+trade, if more of us be allowed to take up residence in New Amsterdam.
+And perhaps," he spoke with a sort of grudging honesty, "perhaps, one
+can scarcely blame the worthy burghers for mistrusting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>the newcomers
+and refusing to grant them welcome. They were unfortunate enough to
+have been robbed at Jamaica where they rested on their journey; when
+they reached here there was the disgrace of an auction in which their
+goods were sold to pay for their passage, and two of the passengers,
+David Israel and Moses Ambrosius, were held for security. You remember
+how a law suit was brought against them by Jacques de la Motthe,
+master of the vessel, for this same passage money; and although the
+matter is now settled, some of our honest citizens are not ready to
+welcome strangers who they believe are little better than vagabonds
+and paupers."</p>
+
+<p>"But, father," protested the boy, "a goodly number out of the
+twenty-seven who came on the 'St. Catarina' last autumn have received
+gold from their brethren in Holland. All except the very poorest one.
+And I heard mother telling Frau Aboaf that you could ill afford giving
+all you did to help the poor widow on board the 'St. Catarina'
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Jacob Aboaf and I have done but little,"&mdash;half-growled Barsimon, as
+though ashamed of the charity he was always ready to do by stealth.
+"And they were our brethren." He became silent again, striding to the
+window and scowling out into the bright spring sunshine. At last: "But
+perhaps we have managed to serve them with our pens as well as gold.
+Jacob Aboaf and I, with a few of our good Dutch townsmen, have written
+to the directors of the Dutch West India Company in Amsterdam, praying
+that these Jews, now forbidden lodging here, be allowed the rights and
+privileges, of all good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>citizens. The directors should listen to our
+plea, for a large amount of the company's capital comes from Jewish
+purses. We might have heard favorably from them long ago had it not
+been for the stubborn hatred of Governor Stuyvesant, whose letters
+have poisoned their minds against us."</p>
+
+<p>"But we have never harmed Governor Stuyvesant," observed Samuel, "so
+why should his hand be against us?"</p>
+
+<p>Jacob Barsimon laughed grimly, lowering his voice as he answered, for
+he was a cautious man and did not care to risk having his words
+carried through the town by the little slave girl Minna, now
+clattering the breakfast dishes as she moved about the kitchen. "Does
+Peter Stuyvesant ever need a reason for his follies?" he asked dryly.
+"His head is as hard as his wooden leg and never a new idea has
+pierced his brain since the day he was born. He hates our people with
+as much reason as our black Minna fears witches and the evil eye. It
+is said that he has written to the directors at Amsterdam, begging
+that none of the Jewish nation be permitted to infest New Netherlands.
+He has used those very words in public places; infest the colony and
+be like a plague of hungry locusts. Perhaps he really believes the
+evil things he says of our brethren. Even eyes as shrewd as his may be
+blinded by hate. And one can understand his bitterness, his hardness
+of heart toward all mankind. His post here is not easy, harrassed by
+the savages on our borders, the Swedes, even the English, who have
+already cast covetous eyes upon this rich port. While his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>private
+life&mdash;" the man's stern face grew rather tender&mdash;"has not been very
+happy. It is said that he left a half-sister in Holland, the one
+creature he ever loved or who knew his kindlier side. A few months ago
+her husband died and she dared the voyage with her little daughter
+that they might make their home with the governor. But the vessel was
+lost at sea and she was drowned. Only a sailor or two and several
+passengers survived and one of them brought the little girl to Peter
+Stuyvesant."</p>
+
+<p>"I heard Minna tell of her," interrupted Samuel. "She says that once
+she helped the governor's cook carry the Sunday dinner home from
+market and she saw little Katrina playing on the great stairway of
+Peter Stuyvesant's house. Minna says she has long golden curls and her
+eyes are blue&mdash;blue as the little flowers that grow near the Wall
+every spring. I wonder we never see her, father!"</p>
+
+<p>Barsimon sat down on the low settle beside the window and lighted his
+long pipe, puffing thoughtfully and gazing into the smoke as he spoke.
+"I would not have you repeat this, son, for it may be but idle gossip.
+But it is reported that since her mother's death the child has become
+the idol of the governor's hard, old heart. He is filled with foolish
+fears that he may lose her as cruelly as he lost her mother before
+her. He scarcely ever permits her to stir abroad and then only when
+she is followed by one of his faithful black slaves." He arose with
+his characteristic abruptness, and walking to the chest of drawers
+across from the fire-place, changed his black silken skull cap to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>broad-brimmed hat of his Dutch neighbors. "Forget what I have said,"
+he told his son, briefly. "We live here only on sufferance and must
+guard our tongues. But you are a good lad and I know I need never
+regret having confided in you. And now study your <i>barmitzvah</i>
+portion. Even if the folk from the 'St. Catarina' are deported before
+your birthday and there is no <i>minyan</i> here and we can have no real
+feast in your honor, I would have you do your sainted grandfather
+credit and please your mother who has waited so long for the day when
+you should be old enough to be considered a man among our people." For
+a moment his hand lay kindly upon the boy's shoulder; then, with a
+shrug as though to shake off any foolish tenderness for the son he
+loved so dearly, he passed out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel watched him from the window until his stolid, heavy-set figure
+disappeared down the winding road. Then, finding his portion in the
+Hebrew book which his father treasured so highly in those days when
+printed Hebrew books were still a rarity, he sank down on the settle
+and tried to concentrate on the task which his father had left for
+him. But more than once his dark eyes glanced from the heavy Hebrew
+characters to the pleasant scene that lay beyond the window; a scene
+one would never associate with crowded, bustling New York of our own
+day; the low, comfortable looking houses of the Dutch burghers,
+nestling under the great trees; the well-scoured windows blinking like
+so many sleepy eyes in the warm spring sunshine. It was a day for
+dreaming and adventure, not for study.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>For a little while the boy sat with his head resting upon the low
+window sill, his young mind busy with half-formed fancies, most of
+them circling about his talk with his father concerning the unhappy
+passengers of the 'St. Catarina.' Would the unfortunates be obliged to
+seek shelter elsewhere, or would they be allowed to dwell in New
+Amsterdam? If so, perhaps in time other Jewish families might come,
+bringing with them boys of his own age, among whom he might find a
+real playfellow. He sighed a little wistfully at the thought, for he
+had no close friends among the sturdy young Dutch lads of the
+neighborhood. Even a girl would be better than no one, he thought; not
+a mere baby like his little sister, but a girl old enough to play with
+him, to visit the Indians dwelling a little beyond the Wall, to wander
+with him to the other end of the settlement and stand upon the sea
+shore, searching for shells or lying upon the shining sands and
+weaving fantastic dream stories, too foolish for older and wiser folks
+to hear.</p>
+
+<p>The boy fell to dreaming now, sitting there in the warm sunshine, for
+he was a quiet, thoughtful lad, unaccustomed to playing with youths of
+his own age, given to day-dreams and fairy legends. Today, as he half
+reclined on the settle near the window, his busy young brain painted a
+picture so strange that even Samuel himself had to smile over it; for
+as he gazed through the window with half-closed lids, the dusty road
+and little Dutch houses faded away and he seemed to see a shining,
+white street with tall buildings on either side, and many, many
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>people&mdash;more than he had ever seen in his life, even in Amsterdam
+across the seas&mdash;hurrying to and fro. He had heard his father say,
+nodding gravely over his pipe, that some day little New Amsterdam
+would be one of the greatest sea ports in the world. Jacob Aboaf had
+hooted at his friend's prophecy; but as he recalled it today, Samuel
+did not laugh. His day dream was very real to him, and when his mother
+came into the room she found him staring through the window with a
+strange smile about his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Frau Barsimon was a busy woman, with no time for day-dreams and she
+was often annoyed (and secretly alarmed) at her son's tendency to
+wander off into a world of his own making. Now she shook him, but
+gently, and spoke with her usual briskness.</p>
+
+<p>"Samuel, Samuel, have you nothing better to do than sit nodding like
+an old spinning woman in the sunshine?"</p>
+
+<p>The boy started guiltily, indicating his open book with a shame-faced
+laugh. "Father told me to study&mdash;<i>barmitzvah</i>," he faltered.</p>
+
+<p>His mother shrugged goodnaturedly. Pious Jewess that she was, she was
+often inclined to quarrel with her husband who, she declared, was too
+fond of keeping the boy tied to his Hebrew lessons. "He needs a strong
+body now," she used to say when demanding an extra play-hour for
+Samuel. "When he is older and his head is less stuffed with dreaming
+it will be time enough to cram it with your learning. But first let
+him play out in the open air until he is tired and the fresh wind has
+blown all his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>nonsense away." She was thinking the same heresy that
+moment, but all she did was to smile goodhumoredly and pull the boy to
+his feet. "Out of doors with you," she commanded, gayly, "and I will
+speak to father. Take a walk&mdash;a long one, and when you come back you
+will be able to study without falling half-asleep over your book."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel needed no urging. A moment later he had kissed his mother
+good-bye, helped himself to a handful of sugar cookies from her blue
+crockery jar, and was whistling down the dusty road, feeling strangely
+anxious for some adventures; adventures as heroic as his father often
+related before the fire on winter evenings. His mother might have
+thrown up her hands in despair had she seen the dreamy look in his
+large eyes. True, he was no longer drowsing on the settle, but as he
+swung along under the soft spring sky, he saw himself the hero of a
+hundred fantastic tales&mdash;the captain of a trading-vessel bound for the
+Indies; the commander of a company of daring youths of his own age,
+all ready to resist the Indians when they should seek to fall upon New
+Amsterdam; again, a pirate with a plumed hat and a flashing sword. So,
+lost in dreaming, he wandered on down the quiet streets to the Wall
+which marked the boundary of the Settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly realizing that he was tired and hungry, Samuel threw himself
+upon the grass, and taking his cookies from his pocket, began to munch
+them contendedly, wondering just what heroic deed he should plan for
+his next undertaking. But in the middle of a bite he stopped short,
+sitting up suddenly and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>rubbing his eyes as though he had been asleep
+and feared he was still dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>There on the grass beside him sat a little girl, almost his own age he
+judged; a little girl with golden hair and eyes as blue as the flowers
+growing in the young grass about them. To the simple lad she seemed as
+richly dressed as a fairy princess, for her frock was of flowered
+silk, she wore silver buckles upon her little shoes, and her daintily
+flounced cap was fastened at either ear with a quaint medallion of
+beaten gold. Samuel took in all of these details slowly, half afraid
+to speak lest he should drive away the delicate little creature, who
+had risen from the grass and now stood poised for flight like a gaily
+tinted butterfly. Then she spoke, and he knew there was very little of
+the fairy about her and that she was almost as human as himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Boy," she said in unmistakable Dutch, pointing to the half-eaten cake
+in his hand, "boy, give me that. I am hungry." She spoke like one
+accustomed to instant obedience, taking the cake without a word of
+thanks and eating it prettily, her large blue eyes never leaving
+Samuel's wondering face. When nothing remained, she again held out her
+hand, with her pretty, imperious gesture. "More," said the little
+lady, and Samuel gave her his last cooky, wishing heartily that he had
+brought his mother's blue crockery jar along for the little lady's
+pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," he said humbly, "but I ate the others before I knew you
+were coming. They are good, aren't they? Does your mother ever bake
+sugar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>cakes?" he ended in a desperate attempt to make conversation.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her blond head. "My mother is dead," she told him. "She was
+drowned and I would have been drowned, too, but a brave sailor held me
+tight until he found a spar and he tied me to it and we floated and
+floated and floated until a big ship passed us and brought us here."
+She spoke between bites, very calmly, as though her tale, as thrilling
+as any of Samuel's dream adventures, was no uncommon story for a
+dainty little maid to tell on a spring morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know who you are," Samuel exclaimed, forgetting his shyness in
+his delighted surprise. "Your name is Katrina and you live with the
+governor and your mother was lost at sea."</p>
+
+<p>Katrina, having finished her cooky, pensively picked up the few crumbs
+from her lap as though she were still hungry. "I live with Uncle
+Peter," she corrected. "He is very good to me and gives me pretty
+presents;&mdash;he gave me these on my birthday," and she touched the gold
+medallions upon her ears complacently. "Only he never lets me go out
+and play alone like the other little girls who sometimes visit me say
+they do, and I get tired of staying in the garden. And when I go out
+walking with old black Daniel behind me, it is just as hard as staying
+at home. I want little girls and boys to play with and take me
+places;&mdash;I get tired of my dolls," she ended wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel nodded with understanding sympathy. To have this little
+stranger maid listen to his stories <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>or follow him on his lonely
+rambles! If he might even go to play with her sometimes in the garden
+behind Peter Stuyvesant's house. He frowned at the thought: it was not
+hard to picture the old governor falling into one of his rages at the
+insolence of the Jewish boy who dared to walk down the garden path.
+And yet what fun they would have had with every bush a mysterious
+fairy castle, every tree a pirate ship to take them across the Main.
+He sighed regretfully, turning to listen to his companion's bright
+chatter.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they're looking all over for me," she laughed
+mischievously, "cook and black Daniel and Uncle Peter, too. Won't he
+be cross! He was so cross this morning when he got a letter from
+Holland, a big letter with a big red seal, and he'll be crosser yet
+when I'm not home for dinner." She tossed her sunny curls defiantly.
+"But he won't dare to scold me; he'll scold everybody else and shake
+his cane at them, but he won't dare to be cross to me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I think you ought to go home," suggested Samuel. "It isn't right
+to worry your uncle so when he is so good to you and gives you such
+nice presents."</p>
+
+<p>She made a roguish little face. "I can't go home," she giggled,
+teasingly, "I've never been out alone and I lost my way almost as soon
+as I left the garden. So I'll just have to stay here all day until
+somebody from home comes and finds me." She sprang up, shaking out her
+silken skirts, dancing gayly in her little buckled shoes. "Come, boy,"
+she commanded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>imperiously, "Come and play with me." She fumbled in
+the pocket of her black satin apron and drew out a tiny worsted ball.
+"Let's play ball," she cried, "and then we'll run races and climb that
+tree over there and maybe you can tell me stories when I'm tired. My
+old nurse in Holland used to tell me brave tales, but I don't like
+those black Daniel tells&mdash;all about charms and goblins. Do you know
+any nice stories, boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a few," admitted Samuel modestly. His cheeks, usually so pale,
+were flushed with excitement; the little playfellow of his dreams
+seemed to have come to life in the flower-strewn meadow. He caught the
+bright ball she tossed to him and laughed with pleasure. "You catch
+wrongly," he chided her, "but I like to play with you."</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon sped on golden wings. Perhaps neither of the children
+would have dreamed of the lateness of the hour had not Katrina
+interrupted Samuel in the middle of one of his glowing tales,
+exclaiming, "I'm hungry, now. I wonder what cook has for supper?"</p>
+
+<p>Samuel started. The story of the old sea captain he had been telling
+his new friend was very real to him; he could almost see the old,
+ancient, weather-beaten vessel, hear the waves beating on the shores
+of that distant island where the golden treasure lay hidden for so
+many years. Now his dream people faded away and he saw that the sun
+was setting and felt the air growing chill and damp about them. He
+rose a little wearily and helped Katrina to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"We must go home," he said, gravely. "Perhaps <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>we did wrong to stay so
+long, but it was fun to play together, wasn't it? And did you like my
+stories?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, bending to pick up the bouquet he had gathered for her
+earlier in the afternoon. "I like them as well as the tales my nursie
+used to tell," she commented, approvingly. "You'll show me the way
+home, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Hand in hand, they walked slowly back to the dusty street that led to
+the governor's house. At the gate, Samuel was about to bid his little
+friend good-bye, but she caught his hand and drew him in after her.
+"Oh, you must stay," she protested, "you must stay and let Uncle Peter
+thank you for bringing me home. And I want you to tell me another
+story after supper. You must come in!"</p>
+
+<p>"But my mother will be worried," declared Samuel, "and father&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have Daniel go and tell them you are here," she solved the
+problem easily. Then she ran up the broad stairs, crying gaily, "Oh,
+Uncle, I've had the loveliest time," as a short, stern-faced man
+appeared in the doorway; a man with a silver-banded wooden leg and
+leaning on a heavy cane.</p>
+
+<p>"Katrina!" he exclaimed with some sternness, but she pulled his hard
+face down to hers for a kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had such a lovely time," she cooed, "and this nice boy found me
+and brought me home. Thank him, Uncle Peter, and have him come in and
+tell me some more stories."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel drew back; but the governor nodded for him to enter, and,
+feeling miserably shy and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>uncertain of himself, he followed the pair
+into the house. The room they entered was richly furnished, but
+gloomy. Samuel, boy that he was, felt how much lovelier his mother's
+simple living room was with its shining brass and the few plants
+blooming at the window. The governor sat down behind a long table
+littered with papers and drew Katrina to his knee, at the same time
+motioning Samuel to be seated. Then he spoke, stroking the child's
+golden curls, his keen eyes growing gentle as they rested upon her
+pretty face.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been of service to my little girl and I will do my best to
+reward you," said Governor Stuyvesant, kindly. "What will it be, my
+lad, a velvet suit brought over in the last cargo from Holland, or a
+golden chain?" Suddenly the eyes he turned upon Samuel grew cold and
+keen again. "You are not one of us, yet I have seen you before. Who is
+your father and what is his trade?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am Samuel, the son of Jacob Barsimon," answered Samuel, and
+suddenly all his shyness left him and he gazed fearlessly into the
+governor's face. "And my father is an honest merchant of New
+Amsterdam."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and of the tribe of Israel," muttered the old man, his brow
+darkening. "I wish my little one might have been indebted to another
+this day; but I am as honest a man as your father and what I promise,
+I keep. So name what reward you will for the favor you have rendered
+me&mdash;and be off."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel rose, his face flushing with anger at the man's insolence, yet
+glowing with a hope he hardly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>dared to utter even to himself. For the
+time had come, he believed, when he might play the hero, as he had
+done so many times before in his dreams. "I want no reward," he
+answered quietly, "but if you would render me favor for favor, I would
+ask you to withdraw the restriction you have placed upon my
+brethren&mdash;those Jews who sought these shores on the 'St. Catarina' and
+who desire to make their homes here."</p>
+
+<p>The governor smiled grimly. "A true Jew," he muttered, with a sort of
+grudging admiration for the boy's boldness, "ever ready with his
+bargain! But I have no longer the power to grant you or refuse you
+your request." He picked up from the table a long, bulky envelope,
+from which dangled a red seal. "This came this morning from Holland.
+Tomorrow I must tell the burghers that the gentlemen of the Board of
+Directors of the Dutch West India Company have over-ridden my
+suggestions; they write that I must admit these Jews, provided that
+the poor among them shall not become a burden to our community, as
+they at first seemed likely to be, but be supported by their own
+nation." Again his grim smile. "No fear of that, when even a boy like
+you thinks of his people before gifts for himself. I wish," he half
+mused, "I wish that we had at least that virtue of your stiff-necked
+race."</p>
+
+<p>Little Katrina, grown weary of all this, slipped from her uncle's
+knees and took Samuel's hand in hers. "Come into the garden," she
+commanded, "I want you to see my rose bushes and my new kittens and
+the swing, before supper."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half-he told her, gently.</p>
+
+<p>Her eager face clouded. "Then you will come and play with me
+tomorrow?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half-defiantly,
+half-wistfully. "When your uncle sends for me, I will come," he said,
+and, bowing in a manner that would have delighted his careful mother,
+he left the room. Katrina was about to follow him, but her uncle
+called her back rather sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, do not pout, my pretty," he told her, "for I will try to find
+you a worthier playfellow than the son of a Jew trader."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel walked home slowly through the April twilight. In the harbor he
+could see the dim outlines of the 'St. Catarina,' which had in truth
+brought the Jewish wanderers to a home in New Amsterdam. But Samuel
+was not thinking of the wanderers who, after their months of weary
+waiting, could look toward the future with hopeful eyes; nor did he
+feel relieved that, since they were not to be deported, the newcomers
+would surely come to his <i>barmitzvah</i> party. At that moment he thought
+only of the golden-curled fairy princess who would never romp and play
+with him again.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_PLACE_OF_REFUGE" id="A_PLACE_OF_REFUGE"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>A PLACE OF REFUGE<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>How the Wanderer Came to Rhode Island.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was bitter cold. The icy wind howling through the forest caught up
+the snow and whirled it in great eddies against the trees. Reuben
+Mendoza, staggering through the blinding snowflakes, hugged his little
+son Benjamin closer to his heart, and prayed desperately that the
+storm might cease or that he might soon come to a place of refuge. His
+own limbs were aching with fatigue and cold. He had eaten nothing
+since early morning and was faint with hunger. Wearied and heartsick,
+he would have been glad to lie down upon the ground, to sink into
+sleep, perhaps a painless death, with the snow drifting above him; but
+he knew that he must struggle on for the sake of the child he was
+warming in his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Benjamin, half asleep and numb with the cold, stirred a
+little and complained drowsily that he was hungry. His father paused
+for a moment and pressed his lean, bearded face against the child's
+rosy cheeks. "Be patient, little one," he comforted him, "for soon we
+shall find a lodging for the night. Surely, no one would turn even a
+Jew away in a storm like this."</p>
+
+<p>Again he plodded on, footsore and discouraged. The wind lashed him
+like a whip, and, when he raised his head, the snow cut across his
+forehead like stripes of fire. His lips moving almost mechanically <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>in
+prayer, Reuben faltered through the storm, until at last utterly
+exhausted he stumbled to the ground. He tried to gain his feet again,
+for he thought he saw a light glimmering through the trees; but he was
+too tired to go farther. Why should he try to reach that light, he
+asked himself, as he dreamily stretched his tired limbs in the snow.
+But he felt little Benjamin moving beneath his cloak, and with one
+last effort he crawled through the drifts, clinging to the trees as he
+moved. A few moments later he found himself before a little shack. A
+single tallow candle shone through the window and cast a path of light
+before his weary feet. Reuben lurched forward against the door; it
+opened beneath his weight and he fell within the hut. He had a dim
+vision of two men bending over him; some one was taking little
+Benjamin from his arms; then the warm darkness wrapped him about like
+a cloak, and he knew nothing more.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;" />
+
+<p>When Reuben opened his eyes, he found that he was resting upon a couch
+of skins in one corner of the hut. It was a poor place; the walls were
+bare, and through their chinks snows drifted upon the frozen earthen
+floor. Beside the pallet there was no furniture in the room save a
+roughly hewn table and several chairs. Near the table sat two men, the
+one dressed in rich garments, a sword at his side; the other clothed
+in dull gray, with a broad white collar and a plain beaver hat. This
+man held <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>little Benjamin on his knee and stroked his dark curls as
+the child drank greedily from the steaming cup which the kind-eyed
+stranger held to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Reuben sat up among the skins and noticed in surprise that his hosts
+had removed his wet garments and replaced them with a long, warm cloak
+of bearskin. What manner of men were these, he asked himself, who
+treated a Jewish wanderer so kindly? As he advanced timidly toward the
+table, the man in gray turned to him and held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Shalom</i>," he said smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Reuben took his hand, astonished to hear the tongue of his fathers in
+the wilderness of the American forests. "<i>Shalom aleichem</i>," he
+faltered. "But you are not a Jew."</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his head and answered him in English, a language
+Reuben had learned from the trading Englishmen and adventurers he had
+met while in South America. "No, but I am a minister and have studied
+the Hebrew tongue. And I love its greeting of 'Peace.' Would that my
+people were lovers of peace, even as your's have been for so long."</p>
+
+<p>Benjamin ran to his father. "Father," he cried, "the good gentleman
+gave me warm milk to drink and bread to eat and this fine cloak to
+wear," and he proudly smoothed the robe wrapped about his chilled
+limbs.</p>
+
+<p>The man in gray motioned Reuben to sit beside the table and placed
+food and drink before him. Half-famished, Reuben ate and drank, almost
+fearing that it would disappear as a feast sometimes does <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>in a dream.
+For surely he was dreaming: when in all his wretched wandering life,
+had people not of his own religion given him food and shelter and
+received him with gentle words?</p>
+
+<p>His host sat upon the couch, holding Benjamin upon his knee. Now and
+then he spoke to the dark, haughty man who sat watching everything
+lazily from beneath his half-closed lids. Twice he asked Reuben
+whether he desired more food or drink. At last when the guest had
+satisfied his hunger, the host asked him from what place he had come
+and to what spot he meant to journey when the storm was over.</p>
+
+<p>"I know not," answered the Jew. "My father's family was driven from
+Spain. They fled to Brazil, and later settled in Cayenne, where among
+our brethren from Holland we found a resting place until the French
+destroyed our homes and drove us forth to be wanderers on the face of
+the earth. When this child's mother died, I longed to go to a far
+country where I might forget my grief a little and begin life anew. So
+I took my son and came here with other voyagers to your colony of New
+Amsterdam. But there they gave me no welcome, because I was a
+Jew;&mdash;even in this new country some there are who hate the children of
+Jacob." He leaned forward, his thin face alight with a wistful hope.
+"But there they told me of a new colony in the far wilderness,&mdash;a
+colony where men of every race, of every creed, were welcome. Far off
+in the swamps and forests, they said, a man named Roger Williams had
+established a refuge for all those who were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>persecuted and despised,
+and had proclaimed that no man would be troubled there for the sake of
+his religion, that each inhabitant might worship the God of his
+fathers in peace. So I took my staff again and my burden upon my back
+and my little child within my arms, and set out for this place where
+my son might grow up a free man, and not be called upon to forsake the
+faith for which we suffered in Spain."</p>
+
+<p>The man in the velvet coat leaned across the table and spoke to Reuben
+in Spanish. "I, too, came from Spain," he said, "and I, too, came as a
+refugee; yea, with a price upon my head, for I had been denounced to
+the officers of the Inquisition and was doomed to die. Yet I am a good
+Catholic and loyal, and did not deserve their hatred. Those who are
+not of my faith in this new land mistrust and despise me; but here, in
+the colony of Rhode Island, I may follow the religion of my fathers,
+and Roger Williams has given me his hand in brotherhood."</p>
+
+<p>The quiet man rose and again held out his hand to the Jewish wanderer.
+"And now I give my hand to you," he said, heartily. "My colony of
+Rhode Island has need of men strong enough to die&mdash;yes, and to
+live&mdash;for the faith they will be allowed to follow here in peace and
+in safety."</p>
+
+<p>But Reuben had caught his hand and pressed it to his heart. "You are
+Roger Williams, the friend of the oppressed," he said brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Williams, "and this day have you found a refuge with
+me and my people." A look of solemn hope lighted his gentle eyes.
+"'Tis <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>but a lonely spot in the wilderness, and we are few in number;
+but some day this wide land will be a refuge to the oppressed of every
+nation, and all those who are persecuted and despised will find a home
+within its borders."</p>
+
+<p>Little by little, the winds outside ceased to drive the snow against
+the trees; the branches no longer tossed and creaked in the gale; a
+great white hush seemed to bless the quiet earth. The Spaniard who had
+walked to the window blew out the taper and pointed toward the rosy
+clouds. "Dawn is breaking," he said softly, and, bowing reverently
+above his rosary, began to tell the beads as he recited his morning
+prayer. Williams took a large Bible from the shelf above the couch,
+opened it, and, having read his morning psalm, covered his face with
+his hands as he knelt beside his chair to pray. With a great joy
+warming his heart, Reuben, no longer a wanderer on the face of the
+earth, put his arm about his son, and drew him to the window that he
+might look upon the land that his children's children and those who
+came after them were to inherit as their home. Then he drew his faded,
+tattered <i>talith</i> (shawl worn in prayer) from his pack, put it about
+his shoulders, and, facing the glowing east, the home land of his
+fathers, he praised the God of Israel who had brought him to this
+place of refuge. "<i>Ma tobu oholekha</i>" ("How goodly are thy tents"),
+prayed Reuben, and he sobbed like a child.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="KING_GEORGE" id="KING_GEORGE"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>"DOWN WITH KING GEORGE!"<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>How Isaac Franks, of the American Army, first heard the Declaration of Independence.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The news had spread like wild-fire that day in early July, 1776.
+Although there was not one of the American recruits stationed in New
+York under General Washington's command who had not heard something of
+the great happenings in Philadelphia a few days before, every soldier
+felt his heart beat faster under his buff and blue coat at the thought
+that he, too, would hear the Declaration of Independence read before
+the army. They stood waiting in their ranks, the first army of the
+Republic: raw farmers like those who fell at Lexington, bronzed
+backwoodsmen whose rifles had brought more than one lurking red-skin
+or savage forest beast to earth, with here and there a student, fresh
+from his books, or a merchant who had left his desk to fight for his
+country. And today they were to hear, stated simply and eloquently for
+all time, for what principles they fought.</p>
+
+<p>In the ranks stood a slender, dark-browed boy of about seventeen. The
+muster roll gave his name as Isaac Franks, the simple record holding
+no promise of the day when the Jewish boy, a distinguished veteran of
+the Revolution, should entertain President Washington as his guest.
+Today young Franks stood undistinguished among the other eager
+patriots and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>the future president was only the leader of an army of
+untrained "rebels", knowing full well that a traitor's death awaited
+him if his campaign against the British proved unsuccessful.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish the general would come that we might hear the document and be
+dismissed," remarked Franks to the soldier who stood at his side; a
+tall, raw-boned youth about his own age. "This hot sun is enough to
+melt granite and we have been assembled for almost two hours."</p>
+
+<p>The other, also wearied and over-heated, looked him over with a sneer.
+"A fine soldier with your complaints!" was his jeering comment. "I
+wonder to see a Jew in our ranks, but you'll not cumber us long, I'm
+thinking. You Jews are fit only for trading and money lending&mdash;not
+fighting. You'll melt away quickly enough in the heat of your first
+battle."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, Tim Durgan," retorted Franks, quietly enough, but with
+a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. "I've endured your sneering ever
+since I came to camp and I'm growing weary of it, too. I didn't know
+why you wouldn't be friends with me, when I've never done anything to
+offend you; but if it's because I'm a Jew&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I want no Hebrew coward for a friend of mine," was the surly answer.</p>
+
+<p>"You can call me a coward as much as you like&mdash;I'll show you you're
+wrong when we face the redcoats. But you're not going to insult my
+people&mdash;understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim laughed contemptuously. "How are you going to stop me?" He looked
+down at Isaac who was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>a full head shorter than himself and of
+slighter build. "Going to fight me?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the long lines of buff and blue straightened as one man
+and a murmur of "the General" passed down the ranks. Franks, the angry
+flush slowly dying from his cheeks, straightened his shoulders and
+gazed straight ahead; but he was not too intent on the arrival of
+General Washington to fling a fierce aside to his tormentor: "That's
+just what I intend to do if you don't take it back&mdash;fight you until
+you do!"</p>
+
+<p>But a moment later all private hates and insults were forgotten as the
+boy looked toward the general, his soul in his eyes. Seated upon his
+great horse, the sun streaming upon his noble, powdered head and broad
+shoulders, the commander of the American Army looked what he later
+proved himself to be&mdash;an uncrowned king of men. A long, vibrating
+cheer rose from the soldiers' throats; then died away as Washington
+raised his hand for silence.</p>
+
+<p>The young officer who rode beside him unrolled a piece of paper he
+carried, and read in a loud, clear voice the words which today every
+school boy knows or should know by heart. But the boys and men,
+pledged to fight and die for their country, heard them for the first
+time that day and thrilled at the rolling sentences of the Declaration
+of Independence, which declared them free forever from the rule of the
+British tyrant, King George III.</p>
+
+<p>"We hold these truths to be self-evident," the noble words rang forth
+to the listening soldiers, "That all men are created equal; that they
+are endowed by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that
+among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." An
+answering thrill awoke in every heart. Isaac Franks felt his lashes
+wet with sudden tears. The son of a nation of exiles, Jews driven from
+land to land from the days the Romans ploughed the place where once
+their Temple stood, he could appreciate the blessings of a home land
+where even the despised Jew might know the meaning of equality and
+liberty and justice. Then he thought of the taunts of his comrade and
+his face hardened; but only for a moment was he depressed. In
+America&mdash;the land which had pledged itself to grant equal
+opportunities to all men&mdash;his was the opportunity to show what the Jew
+was worth. He would teach Tim and his fellows that the descendants of
+David and the Maccabees were soldiers worthy of their ancestors.</p>
+
+<p>Smiling a little grimly, he turned his face again toward the young
+officer and listened with stirring pulses to the charges brought
+against the British king; boy that he was, he realized that he and his
+companions were fighting not the English people, but a servile
+Parliament and an unworthy ruler who, according to the Declaration,
+was indeed a "tyrant unfit to be the ruler of a free people." How he
+wished that King George himself would cross the ocean to frighten the
+colonists into submission; he would much rather meet him in battle
+than any of his overdressed officers or those wretched Hessians, sold
+by their ruler like so much cattle to do battle for a country in which
+they had no interest. Well, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>anyhow, Isaac told himself resolutely, he
+would do his best to defeat the redcoats&mdash;but he would teach Tim
+Durgan a well-needed lesson first!</p>
+
+<p>"And for the support of this declaration," ended the reader, "with a
+firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually
+pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."</p>
+
+<p>Silence at first&mdash;then a mighty shout from the assembled soldiers. The
+air rang with cries of "With our lives&mdash;With our honor!" as the men of
+the new Republic pledged themselves to fight for the faith she had
+just declared to the world. Isaac Franks looked toward Washington; the
+Virginian sat leaning forward slightly in his saddle. His usually
+calm, almost cold face was working with emotion; his lips moved as
+though he were about to address his men. Then he leaned toward the
+officer who had read the Declaration and murmured something in a low
+tone. The latter turned to the army.</p>
+
+<p>"The general hopes," the clear tones rang forth, "that this important
+event will serve as an incentive to every officer and soldier to act
+with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of
+the country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms and
+that he is in the service of a state possessed of sufficient power to
+reward his merit and advance him to the highest honors of a free
+country."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the soldiers broke ranks, the dullest man among them touched
+and awed as though he had attended a new church and had consecrated
+himself to her service. For a moment Isaac Franks forgot his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>jeering
+comrade and his own threats; he walked to his quarters, head high in
+the air, eyes looking far away, as boy-like he dreamed of the days
+when a grateful commonwealth would "reward his merit and advance him
+to the highest honors of a free country." He walked on air, painting
+the future in the bright colors known only to seventeen, forgetful of
+the world about him, until he was recalled to earth by a mocking laugh
+and the question: "Still want to fight, Jew soldier?"</p>
+
+<p>Franks stiffened and turned to face his tormentor, his face hot with
+anger. "Yes, I'll fight you this minute," he answered so loudly that
+several soldiers passing by overhead his words and stopped to see the
+fun. "And thank you for reminding me, Durgan."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled off his coat with a deliberate calm he was far from feeling
+at that moment, for he knew only too well that his opponent was vastly
+superior to him in strength and perhaps in experience as well. But
+Isaac did not hesitate in spite of the goodnatured advice of big Bob
+MacDonald who stepped up at that moment: "Let him alone, son&mdash;you
+can't whip him and it's no use to try."</p>
+
+<p>But Tim had already taken off his coat and stood leering down upon
+Isaac who felt that he could never retreat now; that he would always
+despise himself as a coward, a traitor to the heroes of his race.
+Setting his teeth for the drubbing he felt certain he would receive,
+he struck out blindly. Then he felt a hand grip his arm so tightly
+that he winced with pain, and looking up, saw that General Washington
+stood beside him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>"Well, men?" the commander's voice was very stern. "Have you nothing
+better to do than spend your time brawling like a couple of tavern
+roisterers? Give me a good and sufficient reason for such behaviour or
+I'll have you both tied up and flogged to teach you to act like
+gentlemen and soldiers of the American Army."</p>
+
+<p>His quiet eyes scanned the flushed, angry faces of the two lads. He
+turned sharply to Franks. "I am waiting!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Isaac wavered. He had heard enough of Washington's sense
+of justice to realize that if the chief knew his reason for
+challenging Durgan he might escape with a slight reprimand, or even a
+word of praise for defending his race. But only for a moment. A
+gentleman and a soldier in the American Army, young Franks decided,
+did not tell tales. He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry, your excellency," he answered, respectfully, "but I
+cannot tell you the reason of our quarrel since it concerns only
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Tim Durgan, who had waited for Isaac's accusation with a mocking smile
+about his mouth, gave an incredulous whistle. The despised "Jew
+soldier" was a man after all, who would risk undeserved punishment
+rather than betray a comrade, no matter how much he hated him. In his
+sudden admiration for the boy he forgot his awe of General Washington
+and burst out before he was granted permission to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, Excellency," he cried, warmly. "I've been plaguing and
+tormenting the lad and for no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>fault of his own. I never saw a Jew in
+my whole life before I joined the army, but I'd heard tales of them;
+cowards and afraid of their own shadows. And I teased the boy, never
+knowing he'd mind, and when he did I just kept on to spite him. And
+when he threatened to fight me, I wanted to laugh, for you can see for
+yourself, Excellency, that I'm taller and broader than he and could
+toss him about if I'd a mind to. But he wasn't afraid and if you
+hadn't come up, he'd have tried to fight me all the same." He paused
+for breath, smiling broadly, and held out his hand to Franks. "It's
+all my fault, Your Excellency, and I'm willing to take what I ought to
+for it, but first let me shake hands with him and tell him such a game
+cock ought to've been born an Irishman and no mistake."</p>
+
+<p>The general smiled as the two clasped hands. Then: "I am sorry I was
+disorderly, Your Excellency," apologized Franks. "I would have tried
+to forget a personal insult but I could not stand by and allow my
+people to be slandered. But I know now that he did not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"It takes a long time for some of us to understand, my boy," answered
+the general slowly, and, so thought Isaac, a little sadly, too. "But
+some day, God grant it, we will all understand the words you both have
+heard today and America will know no distinction of race, creed or
+station&mdash;only the worth that makes a man." He turned suddenly to Tim
+Durgan. "You come of a fighting breed, my man," he said warmly, "and
+just now when you confessed your fault you showed true courage. I need
+fighters <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>as strong as your Irish ancestors; learn to fight only for
+our country and forget your petty quarrels and prejudices." He placed
+a kindly hand on Isaac's shoulder. "And a boy who is as loyal a Jew as
+you, must be a loyal American. I hope you will always carry yourself
+as honorably as you did today. What is your name, my lad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isaac Franks, sir," answered the boy, flushing beneath his
+commander's praise.</p>
+
+<p>"Isaac Franks of this city?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I have always lived in New York and I enlisted here."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must be the boy of whom Colonel Lescher spoke to me. He said
+that you were so eager to serve that you even bought your own uniform
+and field equipment. I expect to hear from you again." He was about to
+pass on, then paused to add kindly: "And since this is a holiday
+afternoon, why not spend it abroad instead of wrangling here. Now,"
+with a slight smile, "my Hebrew David and my Irish Jonathan, be off
+with you; and hereafter keep your blows for the British," he added,
+half jestingly, as he walked off, leaving the two lads staring
+somewhat sheepishly at each other as they strolled a little apart from
+the others.</p>
+
+<p>Tim was the first to speak. "It was great of you not to tell when he
+asked you," he said warmly. "And if I can ever make up to you for what
+I said about Jews&mdash;" which proves that Tim Durgan never made a foe or
+a friend by halves.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll forget all about that," answered Franks lightly. "But we've
+wasted a good part of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>afternoon already. Let's take a long walk
+and drink to our friendship in some good brown ale. I know a tavern
+near Bowling Green where there's always jolly company and a full
+measure for a men in uniform."</p>
+
+<p>Chatting idly together, the two began their walk through the camp,
+passing rapidly down the crowded streets. There was a great stir in
+the city, for the storm clouds of hate against the British ruler which
+had been gathering for so many months had suddenly burst at the news
+of the signing of the Declaration at Philadelphia, and the air was
+heavy with protests of loyalty to the new government, and threats
+against King George. So when Tim and Isaac reached Bowling Green it
+was an excited crowd that they found there, gathered about the leaden
+statue of King George III; men and half-grown boys, with here and
+there a soldier enjoying his half-holiday.</p>
+
+<p>"One would think the British were already here," Tim growled
+goodnaturedly. "If these merchants would stop cackling together like
+the hens in my father's poultry yard at home, and shoulder a gun, we'd
+drive Master George's tin soldiers and the Hessians back across the
+water so quick they'd hardly know they'd been here at all."</p>
+
+<p>From the confused murmur of many voices came one rumbling cry which
+the boys caught and smiled to hear: "Down with King George! We are
+free men. Down with King George!"</p>
+
+<p>A thin little man in a black coat elbowed his way to the base of the
+statue from which vantage point he tried to address the crowd.
+"Friends," he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>quavered, as the uproar died, the idle mob ever ready
+for some new amusement, "friends, don't be too rash. Look before you
+leap. We are only a handful of untrained farmers and merchants. The
+armies of King George&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But before he could speak further, the crowd suddenly broke lose with:
+"Another cursed Tory! He is in the King's hire!&mdash;Drag him down!&mdash;Hang
+him to a tree to teach other Tories and traitors to hold their
+tongues!"</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion was like a fire brand to dry timber. Before the two
+soldiers on the outskirts of the crowd could fully realized what had
+happened, a stout apprentice lad in a leather apron had procured a
+rope which another brawny fellow flung around the Tory's neck. He
+tried to plead for mercy but his voice was silenced by the howling of
+the mob, so desperate in its rage against the king that they sought
+blind vengeance on their victim for daring to speak in his behalf.</p>
+
+<p>Isaac started forward, his face white and tense. "Come, Tim," he
+cried, "We must make them set him free."</p>
+
+<p>The Irishman shrugged. "A Tory more or less! Let them hang him and
+welcome."</p>
+
+<p>Isaac Franks did not answer. He only pushed his way through the mob,
+the crowd giving place to his uniform. He knew he could do nothing
+against them single-handed; yet he felt that he could not let this
+innocent man die. And, curiously enough, he thought less of the Tory's
+fate than the shame that would fall upon the people of his native
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>city, if they committed such a crime in their reckless fury. He neared
+the front where several older and cooler citizens stood trying in vain
+to persuade the angry patriots to release the Tory. Then a splendid
+thought flashed through his quick mind, and springing lightly upon the
+leaden statue, he cried in a ringing voice: "I come from General
+Washington."</p>
+
+<p>The magic name hushed the angry crowd. They waited eagerly for the
+boy's words.</p>
+
+<p>"I serve the general of the American Army," continued Franks, "and I
+am as loyal as any of you, for I carry a gun to defend my country
+while you do nothing but cackle, cackle like the hens in a poultry
+yard." The crowd, quick to respond to every suggestion, laughed
+goodhumoredly at Tim's mocking description which was now standing his
+friend in good stead. "And you have as much brains as the hens in a
+poultry yard," continued the boy, following his advantage, "for
+instead of pulling out the roots of your trouble, you attack this poor
+fool who never saw King George and is not even one of his soldiers."
+He leaned down and half pulled the rope from the Tory's neck. "He is
+not worthy the honor of hanging. Use your good rope to haul down the
+statue of his Gracious Majesty, King George III&mdash;which has cumbered
+our city too long. And melt the lead into bullets which the soldiers
+of General Washington will use against any Briton who dares to enter
+our New York."</p>
+
+<p>A roar of applause broke from the crowd. "Down with King George!" they
+cried as a dozen eager <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>hands pulled the rope from the frightened
+Tory's neck and flung it about the statue. The Tory, only too glad to
+make his escape, crept away unnoticed in the crowd, already intent
+upon pulling the leaden effigy to the ground. They tugged as one man,
+that howling, maddened mob until with a great crash the deposed statue
+of the hated British king lay upon the ground. Then: "Bullets" was the
+cry, "bullets for our soldiers," as, laughing and shouting, the
+citizens of New York dragged the statue away to be melted into bullets
+for colonial rifles.</p>
+
+<p>Isaac Franks looked longingly after them. But he knew that it would
+soon be time for "taps" and he dared not be late. With a little sigh,
+he turned his face toward the camp, where, under General Washington,
+he hoped to learn to become a good soldier of the Republic.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_LAST_SERVICE" id="THE_LAST_SERVICE"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THE LAST SERVICE<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Story of a Rabbi Who Lived in New York When it Was Captured by the British in 1776.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>A Sabbath hush brooded over the garden of the Rev. Mr. Gershom Mendes
+Seixas, minister of New York's one synagogue, <i>Shearith Israel</i>. The
+tall pink and white hollyhocks that bordered the prim paths nodded
+languidly in the warm September breeze. From the trees came the
+twitter of sparrows, now low and conversational, now high and shrill,
+"just like people in the synagogue," thought little David Phillips, as
+he strolled in his grandmother's garden on the other side of the
+hedge. And if David had pulled aside the white curtains of the Rabbi's
+study windows, he would have seen that the same Sabbath peace filled
+the low-ceilinged room, the walls covered with books, most of them
+rather forbidding in their musty, leather bindings. A peaceful,
+restful room on the Jewish rest day; but, boy as he was, David would
+have seen at a glance that Rabbi Seixas was not at peace with himself.
+A keen-eyed, quick-moving young man of about thirty, he paced
+restlessly up and down between the bookshelves, his hands clasped
+behind his back, his brows knit in thought. Several times he glanced
+at the tall clock his father had brought from Lisbon; it would soon be
+time for him to go to the synagogue; but what message had he to give
+his people?</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>Down the quiet street came the roll of drums, and David rushed to the
+gate, wishing with all his heart that he might follow the soldiers.
+But he knew that his grandmother expected him to take her to the
+synagogue, and he did not dare to leave the garden; instead he stood
+kicking holes in the path with his shining Sabbath boots which at that
+moment he hated with all his might, just as he hated the ruffles of
+fine linen that his grandmother had painfully stitched for him with
+her loving, rheumatic old fingers, and his Sabbath suit in which he
+was never allowed to romp or play. And at that moment, with the
+British actually knocking at New York's front door, one could hardly
+blame a small boy for growing impatient at the restrictions of a
+doting old grandmother, no matter how much she might indulge the
+orphan grandson whom his dying father had left in her charge the year
+before. If he were only a man, thought David, longingly; only old
+enough to be with General Washington's troops across the river. But a
+ten-year-old boy, who couldn't even play the drum like Frank Morris,
+the apprentice lad who had run away to join the army, couldn't serve
+his country any better than a feeble old lady like Grandma or a
+minister like the rabbi next door.</p>
+
+<p>The roll of drums had startled the rabbi as well as his young neighbor
+and he now appeared in his garden, walking with swift, nervous steps
+to the gate. At first, he did not seem to see David; only stared down
+the road with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the rails of the
+gate until his knuckles showed hard and white; then, as the drums grew
+fainter, his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>shoulders relaxed a little, he sighed deeply, and,
+turning toward David, nodded kindly, even smiling, as though he had no
+deeper thought in his mind than giving his young friend a Sabbath
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Good <i>Shabbas</i>," said the rabbi. "I see you're all ready for service,
+my lad."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I'm just waiting for Grandmother." From far off came the
+last sound of the drums. "Did you hear the drums, sir? I wonder
+whether more of our troops are coming to the city."</p>
+
+<p>The minister's face darkened. "Rather the American troops are leaving
+it, I fear," he answered gravely. "Mr. Levy who came by early this
+morning told me that four British ships have already passed up North
+River, and that there are about the same number anchored in Turtle
+Bay. They may make a landing at any time&mdash;and if they do&mdash;&mdash;" he
+smiled somewhat grimly, "well, I fear, my lad, that we will be living
+in a British province."</p>
+
+<p>But David had heard too much from his cousins in Philadelphia of the
+glorious doings of a few months before, the Declaration of
+Independence signed in July, the ringing of the great Liberty Bell.
+And he answered as sturdily as any other boy of 1776 might have done:
+"No, sir. The British may take the city, but no true-born American
+will submit to their rule."</p>
+
+<p>Rabbi Seixas smiled a little at his fire. "But what will you do,
+David? They are already at our gates. From what I have heard not even
+General Washington, lying across the river with his troops, can stay
+the British now. General Howe will hold a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>tight rein over the city
+and we must learn to bow our shoulders to the yoke."</p>
+
+<p>David stiffened his small shoulders stubbornly as though he actually
+stood before the hated English officer. "The good people of Boston,"
+he began, proudly, "were not afraid of the redcoats&mdash;" then stopped,
+for his older companion did not have to remind him of the fate of the
+Boston citizens shot down on the public common by the soldiers of King
+George.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, little David," said the minister, sadly, reading his thoughts,
+"we will be just as powerless before our foe as our ancestors were
+before the Philistines."</p>
+
+<p>A merry twinkle sparkled in David's eyes; he was a bright little
+fellow and he had not studied Hebrew and Jewish history all the long
+winter with the Rev. Mr. Seixas without learning a few lessons very
+helpful in time of need. "Didn't David and his sling frighten the
+whole Philistine army away?" he asked, mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>The minister did not smile. "But the Lord was on David's side," he
+answered, gravely. "Today he seems to have deserted His People."</p>
+
+<p>Down the street came a man whose white hairs might have marked him as
+aged had not his bright eyes and resolute bearing spoken of undying
+youth. He paused a moment at the gate, bowing to the Rabbi with all
+the formal courtliness of his day.</p>
+
+<p>"Good <i>Shabbas</i>, Mr. Gomez," said the minister. "You are on your way
+to the synagogue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Perhaps it may be the last service we will have in <i>Shearith
+Israel</i> before the cursed British guns blow our roof about our ears,"
+answered the older <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>man. "Alas, Mr. Seixas, when you were elected our
+Rabbi but a year ago, I predicted a long and fruitful term of service
+for you in our midst. But now&mdash;" a hopeless shrug completed the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"Believe me, I shall not fail in my duty as long as I serve the
+congregation of <i>Shearith Israel</i>," answered the young Rabbi, rather
+stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;I know." The white head nodded gloomily. "You will do what
+you can as a priest, but this war must be won by men. I have lived
+almost seventy years, Mr. Seixas, and have always sought to be a good
+Jew and hold up the hands of those who served the Lord, as I know you
+strive to do. And in times of peace, a man of your learning and purity
+of heart is a worthy leader. But in these times that try men's souls,
+we need not priests, but men," he repeated and walked slowly away.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he mean, Mr. Seixas?" asked David as the old man disappeared
+down the street. His eager little ears had taken in every word of the
+conversation; but he had not dared to ask questions while his elders
+were conversing, and had remained silent as a well-bred lad of his day
+was taught to do. "Does he mean we shouldn't have rabbis and ministers
+when there's a war?"</p>
+
+<p>The rabbi shook his head. "Not exactly that, David. But perhaps he
+wishes that today we had fighting priests like the old Maccabees,
+those men who went to battle with swords in their hands, prayers in
+their hearts. And old Mr. Gomez is a fit descendant of those heroes,"
+he cried with sudden warmth. "Old as he is, he offered to form a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>company of soldiers for service and enlist himself. When he was told
+that he was too old to take the field, he said: 'I could stop a bullet
+as well as a younger man.' It is such a spirit that wins wars, David."</p>
+
+<p>"That's splendid!" exclaimed the boy. "I know how he feels&mdash;just
+sitting around New York and waiting for the British to come and rule
+over us! If I were only old enough to go and fight, too! I wish,"
+wistfully, "I were grown up like you. Then I wouldn't have to be here
+today, waiting to go to the synagogue with Grandmother. I'd be with
+Frank and General Washington and be fighting for my country."</p>
+
+<p>The minister's cheeks flushed; he winced as though the boy's innocent
+words had hurt him deeply. When he spoke it seemed that he was almost
+thinking aloud; that he had forgotten his young companion on the other
+side of the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>"How can I lay aside my clergyman's cloak for the soldier's uniform?"
+he asked, slowly. "And how can I leave my bride of a year&mdash;perhaps
+never to return to her? And my people&mdash;I have not been with them any
+longer: surely, my duty is to them; to guide and lead them in this
+time of danger and uncertainty. Otherwise I would be like a shepherd
+who rushes off to fight the robbers of the mountains, while his flocks
+are torn by wolves that ravage close at hand."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke as though he were reciting the words of a speech already
+written and learned by rote, thought David, half-wondering if the
+minister weren't learning his sermon for that morning. For how <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>could
+the boy know that Mr. Seixas had again and again repeated to himself
+the very arguments he was now uttering aloud for the first time.
+Suddenly the young man who had stood like one in a dream, leaning upon
+the gate, his eyes looking far way, turned toward him and smiled
+almost in apology.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you wondered at my words, little David?" he asked, almost
+lightly. "Ah, in days like these, one says many strange and unheard-of
+things. I have tried to refrain from speaking, for now mere words are
+idle and of little worth. But when I think of my New York&mdash;the city in
+which I was born and reared&mdash;in the hands of the British, I must
+speak, or my heart would choke me." His hand tugged at the linen stock
+about his throat. "God of Israel," he muttered, "in these dark days,
+give Thy servant light to see Thy ways&mdash;and strength to follow them."</p>
+
+<p>David, feeling strangely awkward at hearing his rabbi pray, save in
+the pulpit, looked longingly at the house, hoping that his grandmother
+would come out and end the discussion which was becoming a little
+difficult for him. But he knew how long it always took her to don her
+Sabbath silk and long gold chain and earrings, and resigned himself to
+listen, should the Rev. Mr. Seixas care to talk to him further.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments there was silence between them. Then the rabbi
+turned to David again and continued to speak to him as though he were
+really grown up, and not a little boy who had studied Hebrew and
+history with him all winter.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid to go into battle," he said quietly, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>"but I feel
+that it will take far more bravery to fight for our country right here
+at home. I must be on hand to cheer and comfort my people; to teach
+those who lose their dear ones on the battlefield to look to our God
+for consolation; to teach those who stay at home to do their part too,
+even if it be but knitting and baking dainties for our soldiers. That
+will be easy," he mused, "but how can I endure living here under
+British rule, feeling myself a slave among a slave people?" He threw
+back his head, his eyes glowing with the light of battle. "Our people
+have wandered, many of them, from Spain to Holland, from Holland to
+this blessed land, to be free; how can I, a leader in Israel, bow down
+to the sons of Belial who will come among us!" His hands clenched the
+wickets of the gate; he breathed hard and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke in ringing tones, an almost forgotten picture flashed
+before David's eyes. He was listening again to the rabbi's story of
+the days when the Romans besieged Jerusalem and laid it waste and took
+the people captive. He remembered how Mr. Seixas had glowed with pride
+when he told of those ancient Jews&mdash;"Fighters all, David, who could
+not live as slaves."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Seixas," asked David, suddenly, "in the old days when the Romans
+burned the Temple and everything, what did the rabbis do? Did they
+fight like Bar Kochba and the other generals?"</p>
+
+<p>With a visible effort, the rabbi wrenched himself back to the present.
+"The Romans"&mdash;he repeated, vaguely. "What did the rabbis do?" Again
+his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>voice thrilled with pride as it had done when he had first told
+the child the story of Bar Kochba's rebellion. "They were brave men,
+David; priests and warriors. Rabbi Akiba did the thing I must try to
+do&mdash;kept the fighters brave and loyal; and when he could do no more,
+he died as bravely as the bravest soldier of them all."</p>
+
+<p>"But there was one rabbi who didn't die," insisted David. "I forget
+his name, but I liked him better than all the others because he got
+the best of the Romans. Don't you know&mdash;he pretended he was dead and
+had his pupils take him to the Emperor in a coffin, that the guards
+wouldn't stop them when they passed the gates. And when the Emperor
+asked him what he wanted, he said 'Just let me build a school and I
+won't trouble anybody! What was his name, Mr. Seixas?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are thinking of Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai," answered his teacher,
+slowly. "You are right&mdash;he did 'get the best of the Romans,' as you
+say. He would have died rather than breathe the air of a Roman court
+like Josephus; instead he continued to fight the enemy of his people;
+he handed down to his disciples the sword with which they were to
+fight through the centuries."</p>
+
+<p>"What sword?" asked David, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a real sword; the study of our Law, our Torah. He opened a school
+at Jabneh, you remember, and there he taught his scholars to be good
+Jews, even though Jerusalem was destroyed." His eyes widened and again
+he seemed to be looking far away. "Jerusalem was destroyed, even as
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>city of my hope will be taken from me. But Rabbi ben Zakkai
+escaped to Jabneh and continued the battle there!" He spoke almost in
+a whisper and a strange light glowed in his face. "Have you been sent
+to teach me the truth, David? Truly, 'out of the mouths of babes and
+sucklings hast Thou ordained truth.'"</p>
+
+<p>Mistress Seixas appeared at the doorway, a bright-faced young woman,
+pretty in her Sabbath finery of gay silk mantle and flowered bonnet.
+"I am all ready, Gershom," she told her husband as she came down the
+path.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am ready, too, Elkallah," he answered so gravely that David
+felt he meant much more than the simple words implied.</p>
+
+<p>David, as a boy who was not yet <i>Bar Mitzvah</i>, sat beside his
+grandmother in the <i>Shearith Israel</i> synagogue that bright September
+morning, while the drums beat in the streets and the frightened
+citizens buzzed excitedly in knots upon the street corners, this man
+contending that the British would be defeated before they even crossed
+the Sound, his neighbor declaring that on the morrow the redcoats
+would surely be encamped in the city. Within the synagogue, the Jewish
+citizens of New York continued to hold their Sabbath services. A
+goodly assembly they were; Jews of proud blood from Spain and
+Portugal, descendants of the early settlers in New Amsterdam, when the
+city of New York was still in the hand of the Dutch; a sprinkling of
+<i>Ashkenazim</i>, German and Polish Jews, who at that time were too few in
+number to have a congregation of their own. There were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>many children
+and young people there, pupils and graduates of the religious school
+the congregation had founded almost fifty years before for the
+teaching of Hebrew, modern languages and the common branches. While
+among the men sat sturdy patriots, Samuel Judah, Hayem Levy, Jacob
+Mosez and others whose names had appeared on the Non-importation
+agreement in 1769, when they with their gentile neighbors had dared to
+protest against the tyranny of Great Britain. Benjamin Seixas was
+there, too, one of the first Jews to become an officer in the American
+Army and several other Jewish soldiers in their uniforms of buff and
+blue sat nearby; while directly before him, his alert face thrust
+forward, sat old Mr. Gomez, drinking in every word of the sermon the
+young rabbi delivered after the Sabbath services were over; an English
+sermon, destined to make Jewish history in America.</p>
+
+<p>At first Rabbi Seixas spoke quietly enough, reviewing for his people
+the causes which had led up to the break between the mother country,
+England, and her colonies. He spoke of the tyranny of the king and his
+slavish Parliament, the unjust taxes, the quartering of troops upon a
+law-abiding and peace-loving people. With quiet bitterness, he
+repeated the old story of the children of Israel who demanded that
+their prophet Samuel set a king over them, and of the prophet's
+warning that only evil would come to a people who served a king
+instead of the Lord of Hosts. "And today," went on Mr. Seixas, "today,
+we the people of the Thirteen Colonies have a king over us far more
+tyrannical and unjust than the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>oriental monarch Samuel painted of
+old. To this day have I been silent, breathing no word against this
+Pharaoh of Egypt, for the mission of Israel has ever been peace, and
+next to God we have been loyal to the masters He has set over us. But
+in times like these we are serving Him best by defying those who rule
+in His name, but know not His laws of mercy and of justice. The time
+has come at last for us to enter the Valley of Decision. Where will
+you stand now, my people, when the redcoats thunder at our gates?
+Shall we bow before Pharaoh? Nay, the same God who rescued our fathers
+from the Pharaoh of Egypt will rescue us and all who call upon Him,
+from this new tyrant who would bend our necks and fetter us like very
+slaves."</p>
+
+<p>There was a solemn hush in the synagogue, broken only by the murmur of
+the passing crowds outside, the distant roll of drums. For the first
+time that morning David was glad he had not been allowed to run off to
+see the soldiers. This was not an every-week sort of sermon about
+keeping the Sabbath or about some dead kings with long, hard names;
+the rabbi no longer seemed just a quiet man in a dark coat who had a
+great many books and knew everything and taught him Hebrew and
+history. Instead, he appeared like those splendid fighting priests he
+had mentioned that morning, a man who talked to God&mdash;and held a sword
+in his hand while he prayed.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mr. Seixas stood before his congregation, looking down
+into the tense, upturned faces, yet past them, as though his eyes saw
+visions no other man there might see. Perhaps he was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>thinking of what
+a great step he had just taken; how his words had outlawed him forever
+in the sight of the English king; had made him an exile from the dear
+city of his birth. Again his hands clutched at his stock and he
+breathed with difficulty, but only for a moment. For his eyes met
+those of his young wife, Elkallah, and he smiled to reassure her and
+give her comfort. When he spoke again, his voice was low and clear,
+but as strong as a trumpet call in battle.</p>
+
+<p>"Tonight, perhaps; surely, tomorrow, the British will have entered our
+city&mdash;but they will not find me here. For I will not serve the Lord in
+a sanctuary from which Freedom has departed. I will leave the city and
+seek for a place of refuge where the soldiers of the colonies fight
+for freedom. And, my people, I ask you in the words of Mattathias,
+that warrior priest of other days&mdash;'Those who are on the Lord's side
+follow me!'"</p>
+
+<p>Again a long silence, then an uproar from every side. "He speaks
+truly! It is slavery if we remain!" "I cannot leave my property to be
+confiscated by the Crown." "The British will never take the city."
+"They will be here by sunrise." And suddenly little David's shrill
+voice ringing above the others, although he never realized until hours
+afterwards, when he was reprimanded by his grandmother, that he had
+dared to speak out with all the older and wiser members of the
+congregation:</p>
+
+<p>"O Mr. Seixas, please take me along, too! I don't want to live in New
+York any more if the redcoats are here."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will follow you," cried another voice, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>"although my fortune be
+forfeit and my land be seized by the king."</p>
+
+<p>"And I&mdash;and I," rang out from every corner of the synagogue.</p>
+
+<p>Some were silent, those who were to remain behind, and as Tories, know
+the friendship of the invaders. But the greater part of the
+worshippers, those whose ancestors like the Pilgrim Fathers had come
+to these shores to seek freedom before God, responded to their rabbi's
+call like true soldiers about their standard bearer.</p>
+
+<p>"All that the Lord hath laid upon us, that will we do," cried out a
+very old man, rising to his feet and trembling with age as he spoke.
+"My eyes are dim, but He will not close them in death until they
+behold the rising of the sun of freedom upon these blessed shores."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke like an ancient prophet and a hush like death fell upon the
+people. Slowly, like a man in a dream, Rabbi Seixas walked to the Ark
+and took from it the Scrolls of the Law; with the eyes of a man who
+sees visions he clasped the Torah to his breast and spoke: "When
+Jerusalem was destroyed, Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai rebuilt a spiritual
+Jerusalem in the little town of Jabneh where the faithful ones sat at
+his feet and learned the Law. I will not leave our precious Torah
+behind me to be used by those who remain here to serve King George
+instead of the King of Israel. Some time, some place God will
+establish a refuge for His faithful ones and there will we worship Him
+as free men." He spoke with a great hope in his heart, although at
+that moment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>he never dreamed how during the darkest days of the
+Revolution he would be allowed to labor and serve in Philadelphia
+until he should return to New York in triumph to witness the
+inauguration of George Washington as president of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>At a word from the minister, the <i>Shammas</i> (sexton) and several
+members of the congregation quietly removed the velvet curtains from
+the Ark, taking the silver pointer, the <i>Ner Tamid</i> (perpetual light),
+all the sacred symbols which had made their worship beautiful for
+Sabbath after Sabbath during the years of security and peace. The
+congregation sat motionless, like people in a dream. Laying the Torah
+aside, Mr. Seixas came forward, his hands raised in blessing. His
+voice was tremulous with tears as he spoke: "<i>Yevorekhekha Adonai
+we-yishm'rekha. Yaer Adonai panov eilekha wi'chunekha. Yisa Adonai
+panov eilekha weyasem lekha shalom.</i>" (The Lord bless thee and keep
+thee. The Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto
+thee. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace.)</p>
+
+<p>Then, the Scroll again close to his heart, he passed among the silent
+worshippers out into the warm September sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the people followed him as he stood before the synagogue
+where he had hoped to serve so many useful years. His face was grave,
+but his voice was firm, his bearing unafraid. His young wife,
+Elkallah, stood proudly beside him. Though threatened with exile, she
+held her head like a queen. From the synagogue came old Mistress
+Phillips, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>leaning upon David's arm. "We will miss you sorely, Mr.
+Seixas," she said, sadly, "both as rabbi and as neighbor. I&mdash;ah, I am
+too old to leave the city where I was born. But perhaps I will send
+David to his cousins in Philadelphia."</p>
+
+<p>"But I won't stay there," cried the boy, his cheeks flaming with
+excitement. "I'm going to be a soldier&mdash;just like the Maccabees." He
+raised flashing eyes to his teacher's face and something that he saw
+there made the happiness die out of his own. Boy that he was, he
+realized the ache in the rabbi's heart at leaving his work and his
+friends behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry you have to go, Mr. Seixas," he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>The young minister turned his somber eyes back toward the synagogue
+which he had entered a year before, his heart burning with great hopes
+for the future. Now, with the Torah in his arms, his congregation
+scattered, he felt himself a fugitive on the face of the earth. He
+looked about him at the older folk like Mistress Phillips whose dying
+bedside he might never comfort, at the little children he could no
+longer teach. Lastly he looked down into the tearful eyes of his young
+bride&mdash;a bride of a year, with exile and hardship before her. Then he
+straightened his shoulders and spoke bravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Some day," said Rabbi Seixas, "I will return to serve our God in a
+city that He has made free."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_GENEROUS_GIVER" id="THE_GENEROUS_GIVER"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THE GENEROUS GIVER<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Story of a Jewish Money Lender of the Revolution.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Jonas Schmidt, one of the jailors of the Provost, the grim old prison
+in New York, where the British had confined their numerous French and
+American prisoners after capturing the city from Washington in 1776,
+stood before Sir Henry Clinton, the English commander, shifting
+uneasily as he fumbled his cap with his great, hairy hands. Sir Henry
+looked him over coldly with his quiet, keen eyes that cowed man and
+horse alike; then he turned to his companion, General Heister,
+Commander of the Hessian mercenaries, purchased by the British king
+and sent overseas to fight his battles.</p>
+
+<p>"We can get nothing out of this man," he said in a tone of cold
+contempt. "He is either too stupid&mdash;or clever enough to appear so!&mdash;to
+answer our questions." He nodded to the embarrassed jailor. "You may
+go now. But remember: if escapes become too numerous, I may find it
+necessary to use the gallows in the courtyard yonder and find another
+jailor for my prison."</p>
+
+<p>Jonas bowed respectfully and lost no time in putting the door between
+him and Sir Henry. Tory though he was, the old man hated the English
+commander with all the strength of his simple soul. He had been eager
+enough to secure the situation of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>jailor at the Provost, never
+dreaming of the horrors he might see there. Now, sickened with the
+prison stenches, with the half-starved prisoners wasting away with
+fever and dying before his eyes, he thought longingly of his little
+farm up in the hills where his placid wife and two stout daughters
+lived as peacefully as though the colonists had never rebelled against
+the mother country and hardly knew that the British held New York.
+"Too stupid to answer," muttered the old man, swinging his heavy keys,
+as he passed down the prison corridor. "But I am wise enough to hold
+my tongue when it profits me nothing to endanger the necks of better
+men than Sir Henry Clinton. Let him use his own eyes, if he will; mine
+will be shut when good Mr. Salomon chooses to walk abroad," and he
+chuckled softly as he passed down the dark, damp corridors.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Henry's teeth clicked angrily as the door closed behind the
+jailor. "Well?" he demanded of the Hessian Commander. "Well, since
+this man seems to bear out the reputation for honesty you gave him, it
+seems that we are on the wrong trail. Yet I mistrust this Haym
+Salomon, though our friendly jailor declares that he knows naught
+against him. It might be well to keep a stricter watch on this Jew
+broker in the future."</p>
+
+<p>General Heister nodded emphatically. He was far too good a diplomat to
+quarrel with Sir Henry or to waste breath defending a man whom the
+Englishman mistrusted. "I only know that he is a man of rare parts,"
+he said, "a man who has traveled much before coming to America and has
+become versed in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>many tongues. That is why, when I found him among
+the captured Americans two years ago, I deemed it better to use him
+and his talents rather than confine him with the others to rot and die
+of the prison fevers. So I have allowed him greater freedom than the
+other prisoners and found a place for him in the commissariat
+department where his knowledge of tongues and his Hebrew shrewdness
+have proved of great value to me."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Henry gave a short laugh. "That Hebrew shrewdness of your learned
+friend may have proved of equal value to several of the French and
+American lads who have lately escaped from our prison. No, do not
+remove him&mdash;just yet. Give the rogue a long enough rope and he may
+find it dangling around his own neck on the scaffold out yonder." He
+turned to the sheaf of papers before him, pushing back his fine lace
+ruffles. "Enough of Haym Salomon. He will be my care hereafter. Now go
+over these lists with me, Heister," and he began to turn the closely
+written sheets with his long, nervous fingers.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Jonas, the jailor, was talking in low, excited tones to
+a man he had stopped in one of the prison corridors, a grave-faced man
+with shrewd eyes and a tender mouth which smiled now at the other's
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"I can only warn you, Mr. Salomon," repeated the little jailor, "that
+Sir Henry is watching you as a chicken hawk watches a tender pullet.
+Many a time have I lost a choice fowl through the appetite of those
+accursed thieves," he added, half to himself, as his mind wandered
+back to his quiet farm. Then, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>pulling himself back to the present: "I
+know that many things go on in this prison which&mdash;which might not suit
+the pleasure of his majesty over seas, but," with a shrewd chuckle, "I
+cannot be every place and if a lad or two does escape&mdash;well, may the
+dear God be as gracious to my one boy should he fall into the hands of
+your George Washington and his rebels. But, Mr. Salomon," detaining
+the quiet man in the black coat who was about to pass on, "do not take
+too many risks just now. Do not allow your kind heart to lead you into
+danger. For if you are discovered being&mdash;ah&mdash;too kind to some of our
+prisoners, I cannot save you from Sir Henry. Promise me," laying one
+of his great, red hands on the other's arm, "promise me, you will
+attempt no more 'prison deliveries' until his suspicions are quieted."</p>
+
+<p>Haym Salomon shook his head. "I am sorry to cause you anxiety, my
+friend," he answered, kindly, "for you have been a good friend to me.
+And I will try to be careful&mdash;if I can. But first there is a promise I
+must redeem. When that debt is paid, I will try to behave so
+discreetly that even Sir Henry Clinton will own his suspicions of me
+unfounded."</p>
+
+<p>"A debt to be paid!" The jailor looked puzzled. "Why, you are one of
+the richest brokers in New York. If you owe any money, give me a word
+to your wife and I will see that the debt is discharged and your mind
+at rest."</p>
+
+<p>Salomon shook his head, smilingly. "It is a debt money cannot pay," he
+answered. "I have pledged my word and that has never been broken, nor
+can I break it now." He passed on and the jailor looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>after him, a
+look of mingled respect and affection on his fat, stupid face.</p>
+
+<p>A place of horror even to a well man, the old Provost meant
+unspeakable tortures to a youth slowly recovering from prison fever.
+Young Louis di Vernon, lying upon the dirty wooden floor, faint from
+the fever and sick for home, turned longing eyes toward the grated
+door which had not swung open since Jonas had entered with his
+breakfast of bread and water for the prisoners. But Haym Salomon had
+promised to come later in the day and the boy waited confidently, for
+like many others he trusted the quiet man with the shrewd eyes and
+tender mouth.</p>
+
+<p>At last the door opened and Jonas enter the room, wooden bowls of a
+sticky, floury substance he called "gruel" on his tray. He passed
+between the men, leaving his bowls besides them on the floor. When
+they complained of thirst, he stopped for a moment to ladle out a
+dipperful of water from the wooden pail he carried upon his left arm,
+while now and then he stopped to hear some complaint of a weary man,
+to promise aid or seek to jest away the prisoner's melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>"The broth too salt?" he repeated, gravely. "How can that be when one
+of your rebel friends serves behind the soup kettle this month? Now if
+a poor Hessian or loyal Englishman like myself were cook, you might
+have reason to complain that he spitefully over-seasoned your
+victuals. Or is it that the cooking of your rebels is as evil as your
+politics?" And again: "Too crowded, eh? Well, some folks are never
+satisfied and you'd be among the growlers, my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>friend, if you slept on
+down and fine linen. Why among the well prisoners, 'tis so cramped for
+space that when their bones ache from the floor at night and they
+would turn, they find themselves wedged in so tight that not a man can
+budge till I give the order, 'Left, Right!' when they turn in a solid
+body and ease their weary sides. And you, who sleep in what they would
+consider a palace, poor souls, call yourself suffering for room."</p>
+
+<p>He had reached Louis by this time and his quick eye noted how flushed
+the lad was, while his eager glance kept turning toward the grated
+door. With an impatient gesture the Frenchman pushed away the bowl the
+jailor set beside him. "I am sick of prison fare," he cried, hotly.
+"When I left France to follow Lafayette I never dreamed that I might
+die of prison fever in a hole like this. Take away your food; the
+sooner I starve, the sooner I am free."</p>
+
+<p>Jonas looked him over sympathetically, but could say nothing of
+comfort; instead he pushed the bowl toward him again, thinking,
+perhaps, the dinner might do something to restore the boy's peace of
+mind. But the prisoner again shoved him aside and sat up, his eyes
+straining toward the grated door, where some one now rattled the bars.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me in, friend Jonas," said the voice of Haym Salomon, "and I
+promise not to steal any of the good dinner you have brought your
+fledglings."</p>
+
+<p>The heartsick prisoners smiled at the poor jest and more than one man
+turned eagerly as Jonas unlocked the door and admitted the Jewish
+broker, a prisoner like themselves, yet bringing with him the free
+air <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>of the outside world. Haym passed from one to the other, with
+here a smile, there a word of comfort or bit of quaint philosophy.
+Into the fever-hot hands of one flaxen-haired farmer lad lying half
+delirious and dreaming of home, he dropped a few flowers plucked in
+the prison yard that morning; to a lonely, discouraged Frenchman he
+spoke in his own tongue, uttering a homely proverb that caused the
+homesick foreigner to laugh back into his smiling face. At last he
+came to Louis, and, with a nod toward the puzzled Jonas, lifted the
+bowl of soup and placed it to the boy's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Drink," he commanded gently, but gravely. "You must eat and drink and
+grow strong or you will not be able to go back to your sweetheart in
+France. I have not forgotten my promise to write to her for you, but
+first you must please me and eat. And, now, Jonas, some of your good
+clear water&mdash;as sparkling as the wines of sunny France. Did I ever
+tell you, Louis, my lad, of the little inn where I ate my first meal
+in your country and how the good landlord laughed at my blunders, for
+then I knew little of your tongue?"</p>
+
+<p>Never taking his eyes from his friend's face, the boy obediently ate
+and drank and Jonas looked on, well satisfied. He knew that his
+masters did not concern themselves whether the prisoners starved or
+not; yet, somehow, it made him uncomfortable at times to see boys no
+older than his own son wasting away before his eyes. He wondered
+whether he was hardy enough to be an efficient jailor.</p>
+
+<p>Something of his thoughts must have been written <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>upon his broad, red
+face, for Salomon looking up quickly, nodded as though he understood.
+"Louis is a good lad, Jonas," he said, taking out his writing material
+and spreading it upon his knees. "There are many good lads here&mdash;boys
+like your boy who chooses to serve the king instead of the colonies.
+My little one is not yet old enough for the army; such a tiny mite,
+Louis!&mdash;but if he were, I should find it hard not to hate the man who
+caged him here behind bars like a beast and kept him stiffling in the
+prison darkness. You are too tender a man for such devil's work,
+friend Jonas. Ploughing and milking your peaceful cows might bring you
+less gold, but there would be no heart ache when the day's work was
+over."</p>
+
+<p>Jonas scowled heavily. Rumors had reached him before of certain
+English sympathizers like himself who had found their work distasteful
+after a quiet talk with Salomon and had suddenly left their posts,
+declaring that they no longer desired to serve the king and his cause.
+To be sure, he, Jonas Schmidt, would remain a loyal servant to King
+George until the end of his days, and yet&mdash;why, should this quiet man
+prod his sleeping soul with disquieting thoughts?</p>
+
+<p>"And now," Haym spoke briskly to the young Frenchman, "we will write
+to your sweetheart and tell her how well you are getting on and that
+as soon as the wound in your hand is healed you will write to her
+again." His pen raced over the paper. "Perhaps you will care to look
+it over and correct my spelling which is even worse in French than in
+English," and he handed the sheet covered with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>French characters to
+Louis. The boy took it languidly enough, but his weary eyes brightened
+as he read:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not show any surprise, but I must communicate with you in this way
+lest there be spies among the prisoners who would betray us. You are
+to grow weaker and tomorrow morning the jail physician, whom I have
+bribed, will find that you have died in the night. The grave digger
+will turn your body over to friends of the cause who will help you to
+leave New York and reach the Colonials in safety. If I am ever free
+and you need a friend, call upon me without reserve."</p>
+
+<p>The boy, his eyes filled with sudden tears, reached out and would have
+pressed Salomon's hand, but the latter drew back laughingly. "Why such
+gratitude over a mere letter which has taken me but a moment to pen?"
+he said lightly, speaking loudly enough to be heard by those about
+him. He folded the sheet carefully, placing it in his breast; as he
+did so, he felt the eyes of a prisoner upon him; a newcomer who looked
+him over carefully; then turned away with an indifference that Haym
+believed was wholly feigned. But if Salomon felt that the man was an
+informer he gave no sign. "Now I must about my work," he told Louis.
+"I will see that your missive leaves by the next ship. So eat, my
+little friend, grow fat, and cease to worry. <i>Au revoir.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>," answered Louis, with equal lightness. "I know my
+betrothed will rejoice to see your letter."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>In one of the darkest cells of the old Provost sat Haym Salomon with
+chains about his wrists and ankles. From the courtyard he could hear
+the merry laughter of the British soldiers and their Hessian comrades
+as they smoked and jested after their evening meal. Like true
+soldiers, they took it all in a day's work and there seemed to be no
+lack of spirits among them even if they were assigned the grim task of
+hanging a man upon the morrow. And Haym Salomon, being condemned to
+death by a military court, smiled his grave, gentle smile to hear
+their mirth. He had played the game of chance and he had lost, so why
+should he complain?</p>
+
+<p>Down the damp corridor came the shuffling of feet and a moment later
+Jonas Schmidt entered, a lantern in one hand, a straw basket on his
+arm. "Your wife has sent you something for your evening meal," he said
+gruffly, placing the basket on the bench beside the condemned man. He
+spoke loudly as he noticed a red-coated Briton loitering at the end of
+the passage. "Faith, she has sent you enough to feed a regiment. But
+women are ever foolish. My own wife is waiting for me below. She has
+come all the way to New York merely for advice about our milch heifer
+and traveled weighted down with cakes and eggs and butter&mdash;which all
+her careful packing could not shield enough from the August sun, and
+it has oozed through her finest linen napkin and she is sorely
+grieved. But not an egg is broken and tomorrow Sir Henry Clinton will
+eat eggs laid by loyal Tory hens for his breakfast with my
+compliments."</p>
+
+<p>Haym glanced sharply at his old friend who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>seldom indulged in such
+lengthy speech. He was about to the basket, touched at his poor wife's
+thoughtfulness, when the jailor gave a warning gesture and tiptoed to
+the door. Then he came back, nodding, well pleased at his own craft.</p>
+
+<p>"The lobster has disappeared," he whispered. "I thought that my
+chatter would mislead him. But we have not a minute to lose. Open the
+basket and dress quickly in the woman's raiment you find there." Then,
+as Haym stared at him bewildered, "Dress, I say," and he pulled from
+the basket a calico dress, tightly rolled, a gay shawl and a woman's
+deep straw bonnet. "When you were pronounced guilty&mdash;and every man in
+New York knew what the outcome of your trial would be&mdash;I said that I
+for one would not have your blood upon my hands. No, no, Haym Salomon.
+You may be an infidel Jew, but you are a better Christian than all who
+worship in Trinity Church every Sabbath. By the will of God, my son
+passed through New York on his way home for a moment's visit with his
+mother. I entrusted him with a letter I dared not send through the
+post, telling her to come to me at once, bringing a set of garments
+exactly like those she herself would wear." He chuckled. "She came,
+thinking me quite mad, but obeying me as is her habit. In a moment, I
+had told her all. She left the extra clothes in that basket with me
+and now waits us beyond the courtyard, where Sir Henry and his friends
+will find an empty scaffold tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>Thus the little jailor, unlocking Haym's chains as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>"But I do not understand&mdash;" Haym was still bewildered, after his long
+hours of torturing doubt and uncertainty&mdash;"You never spoke to me of
+escaping."</p>
+
+<p>"I dared not raise your hopes too high. What if Sir Henry decided I
+was not so stupid after all and put another jailor in my place? But
+now all is ready. The sentinels below have seen my wife visit me today
+and I took pains to let them believe she was dining in my room,
+whereas she slipped away when the guard was being changed. Now when
+you leave the prison with me, I have but to say that I am taking my
+good dame to the stage coach." Again he chuckled, half forcing Salomon
+into the calico dress. "Instead, we will meet her at the appointed
+place, you will slip off these flounces&mdash;she cautioned me that you
+should not tread upon them and tear them down, as she loves this frock
+dearly,&mdash;and seek your good friend, General McDougall, who commands
+the rebel forces in our neighborhood and will grant you protection,
+while my wife and I will hurry back to our little farm."</p>
+
+<p>"But your position here&mdash;" Haym fumbled with the unfamiliar buttons of
+the dress.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care to remain here and have Sir Henry Clinton try me in his
+court," answered the other, simply. "So a week ago I handed in my
+resignation&mdash;my rheumatism cannot endure this prison dampness&mdash;my wife
+insists that unless I come home for the harvest, she will come to
+fetch me&mdash;and other strong proofs that I must leave the dear old
+Provost. And, fortunately, my friend, the noble <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>gentleman who secured
+this post for me has fallen in battle, and no one else knows where to
+look for the stupid jailor who helped Haym Salomon to escape."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my friend, I cannot allow you to take such a risk for me,"
+protested Salomon. "And even if you are not punished&mdash;do you care to
+give up your post for my sake?"</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, have grown tired of this devil's business," answered the
+little jailor. "Even if you were to die tomorrow, I should give it up
+and go back to my little farm where I might feel myself an honest man
+again."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Haym sat down upon the bench, his mouth grim and stubborn. "I
+will not go. My name has always been spotless. But if I escape, there
+may be some who will believe that the charges brought against me are
+true, that I have acted as a secret agent for General Washington,
+endeavoring to burn the British warships and warehouses at his
+instigation. Whereas you know that my one crime was helping those few
+poor lads escape from their torture."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stay here and argue until morning when the guards will take
+you below to let you swing for your folly!" muttered Jonas, now
+thoroughly exasperated. "You and I and the world know that not even
+Sir Henry himself believes the charges brought against you at your
+trial. It was only when that young Frenchman escaped two months ago
+and one of Sir Henry's ready spies betrayed you, that you were clapped
+into his cell to face charges in his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>court. I warned you then how it
+would be and you would not heed my words. Now let me save you before
+it is too late."</p>
+
+<p>"But my wife and little son," murmured Salomon, as the other adjusted
+the heavy shawl about his shoulders. "Who will care for them?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can send for them when you have found shelter. And if you stay
+and are hanged, who will protect them?" He pushed the large bonnet
+upon Salomon's head, nodding with satisfaction to see how it concealed
+his face. "Now, remember, say nothing and try to walk slowly&mdash;no, no,
+shorter steps! And put the basket on your arm." He stepped back to
+admire the result of his scheming. "Mr. Salomon," he said, seriously,
+"if I did not know that my good wife was waiting for me outside I
+would swear she stood before me. Come, take my arm,&mdash;remember, walk
+slowly&mdash;" and the two passed out into the sultry August night.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;" />
+
+<p>The Revolutionary War was over, and young Louis di Vernon, still very
+much of a boy despite the down upon his lip and the manly assurance
+achieved by almost seven years hard soldiering, leaned back in the
+shabby arm chair and looked questioningly at his host across the
+table. Since his escape from the old Provost, he had often heard tales
+of Haym Salomon's great wealth, the magnificent sums he had lent the
+government, his generosity toward the nation's unpaid representatives,
+especially his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>young friend Madison. And yet this man of almost
+fabulous wealth, this patriot who with his business partner, Robert
+Morris, had made it possible to feed and clothe Washington's starving
+and naked soldiers, this financier who had negotiated loans with
+Holland and France, now sat before him, meanly dressed, his brows
+wrinkled with care, his drooping shoulders too expressive of defeat
+for one who had helped his country win a glorious victory.</p>
+
+<p>"It is good to see you again," said Haym, slowly. "I have not
+forgotten you, but I thought you might have forgotten me." He coughed,
+a hard, dry cough, leaning his fast graying head upon his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"We are used to having our friends forget us," murmured his wife, who
+sat sewing beside the lamp. She was a brisk, dark-haired woman, a
+member of the famous Franks family which had served the country so
+well during the dark days of the Revolution. "Of the many youths my
+husband aided in prison, you are the first one who came to thank him
+for his service."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, Rachel," her husband chided her gently. "I did not seek for
+thanks. And it was not those brave soldiers I tried to serve, but
+freedom." His tired eyes glowed with a warm light as he turned to
+Louis. "I was born in unhappy Poland, so it is not strange that I
+loved freedom with all my heart and with all my soul. And when I was
+in prison, no longer free to serve this country which had welcomed me
+so heartily, I thanked God that I was permitted to aid those who were
+fighting her battles <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>and seeking to make her free before the world."</p>
+
+<p>"And after he escaped here to Philadelphia," added his wife, a note of
+pride in her voice, "he fought for the colonies just as surely as
+Colonel Franks upon the battlefield. You have heard of the vast sums
+of money he lent the bankrupt government&mdash;and without a bit of
+security, too."</p>
+
+<p>Haym held up his hand in protest. "What security did I need? If I
+could not trust my country, whom should I trust?" he asked her in
+quiet sincerity.</p>
+
+<p>She bent her dark head over the little garment she was mending, her
+lips curved a bit scornfully. "I try not to be impatient. I know that
+even though peace has come, commerce is still languishing; that it
+will take many, many months for the government to pay its debts. Yet
+it hurts me to see you so worried, so hampered because you lack
+capital to go on with your business." Her dark eyes sparkled with
+indignation. "You are only forty-five, Haym," she declared, almost
+fiercely, "and yet your many cares make you seem almost an old man."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to have been able to give my youth to my country," he
+answered. Then, turning to Louis di Vernon: "Do not think my wife too
+bitter? She has had sore trials," and he gently patted her work-worn
+hand. "I know it is not for herself she grieves, but she is troubled
+for me and for our little ones. And, in truth, things have grown dark
+for us of late. My business has suffered during the war and I was
+obliged to neglect it while I attended to affairs of state. And now
+that peace <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>has come at last, I find that my old good fortune has
+deserted me."</p>
+
+<p>"If you had only kept the remnant of your fortune," sighed his wife,
+"the sixty-four thousand dollars you lent to Mr. Morris for his bank
+would have tided us over these evil times."</p>
+
+<p>"But I could not allow the National Bank to fail," protested Salomon.
+"Somehow," turning to his guest, "I have grown like the old
+philosopher of my people who was so unfortunate that he once declared
+that if he took to making shoes everyone would go barefoot, if he
+became a shroud maker, no one would die." He laughed softly, then grew
+suddenly grave. "The merchants to whom I have extended credit have
+failed. There have been losses at sea&mdash;" he shrugged, and became
+silent, his eyes grown strangely large in his thin white face, seeming
+to look into the far future. "Mr. Madison and my other friends will
+not forget me," he said slowly, "and my country in whose keeping I may
+have to leave my wife and infant children before long, will be glad to
+repay her debt and care for them." A strange look of peace swept over
+his tired face; it was well that his dimming eyes could not see the
+long years during which his country would forget to be grateful and to
+repay.</p>
+
+<p>A feeling half of pity, half of shame filled the young man's heart.
+"I&mdash;I am sorry," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not pity me." Salomon smiled his old gentle smile. "I have
+been given a chance to serve the cause of freedom with my fortune; I
+have been of service to my own people, too, the Hebrews of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Philadelphia, and it gladdens my heart to believe that my children's
+children will worship the God of our fathers here in this place in the
+synagogue I have helped to build. I do not think my life has been such
+a very great failure after all," he ended, naively. "And it is good to
+know that what I have done has borne fruit. That is why your coming
+here tonight to thank me has heartened me more than news of the safe
+arrival of those missing merchant-ships at port."</p>
+
+<p>Louis arose, his honest face red with shame. "I did not want to hurt
+you," he said, speaking with difficulty. "When I came here tonight and
+you both thought it was just to thank you before I set sail for
+France, I was ashamed to tell you the reason of my visit. For I am
+like the others; I would not have come to thank you for favors past;
+not knowing of your misfortune, I only came to ask new bounties; that
+is why I am ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do you tell me now?" Salomon's voice had grown very tired.
+"I should have liked to believe that you were not here for favors."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not go away and have you believe a lie. You are too honest a
+man to lie to, Mr. Salomon. Are you sorry I told the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That takes the pain away." A long silence while the January wind
+howled outside. At last Haym spoke. "What did you wish of me&mdash;though
+now I may be unable to grant it."</p>
+
+<p>"I leave shortly for France," answered the young man, flushed beneath
+the other's quiet gaze. "Although I return a poor man, my betrothed
+has waited <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>for me and I desired to buy a bit of land for my own that
+we might become householders as our parents were before us. I knew you
+would trust me and that is why I came to you, my one friend in
+America."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I am truly sorry for my losses," answered Salomon. "If I could
+only help you&mdash;but, perhaps, Mr. Morris&mdash;yes, I will give you a note
+to him, and though I am not prosperous today, he will be willing to
+trust me as your security."</p>
+
+<p>But Louis di Vernon shook his head. "I cannot think of it," he
+answered, stubbornly. "Do not insist, or I shall be sorry that I told
+you of my desires. Please have this visit as it should have been; to
+thank you for your great kindness to me; not to ask more favors."</p>
+
+<p>"As you will," answered Haym with a smile. "But you must not leave us
+without a little token for your betrothed." Going to the mantel piece,
+he took down a silver cup, quaintly carved, and slipped it into the
+young man's unwilling hand. "Nay, lad, take it, it is all I can give
+you&mdash;this and my blessing for your future." Again the wind shook the
+window pane. "It is a bitter night outside. We have no guest chamber,
+but if you care to sleep beside our fire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, after Valley Forge a soldier is not afraid of the storm,"
+laughed the Frenchman. "And I cannot thank you for this&mdash;and all your
+kindness. But she is a woman and when I tell my Mairie, she will write
+you all the love and gratitude that is in our hearts." He bent over
+Mistress Salomon's hand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>with all the courtly breeding of his race.
+"It is only <i>Au revoir</i> tonight, Madame, for I will try to see you
+again before I leave Philadelphia."</p>
+
+<p>He gathered his cloak about him and went out into the storm, leaving
+Salomon to meet his wife's reproachful eyes. "Yes, I know, heart's
+dearest, that I should not give silver cups to beggarly Frenchmen," he
+told her with a whimsical smile, "for who knows when we will have to
+pawn the little that remains of our silver. But until then&mdash;" he
+shrugged goodnaturedly, and a fit of coughing drowned the rest.</p>
+
+<p>Several days later young Louis di Vernon sat in a coffee house, his
+traveling bag and a bundle of toys and goodies for the little Salomon
+children at his feet. Over his cup he read the latest edition of the
+"Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly Advertiser," pausing to stare at a
+modest notice tucked in an obscure corner of the sheet. He put down
+his cup untasted and read it again with whitening lips: "On Thursday
+died Haym Salomon, a broker."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="ACROSS_THE_WATERS" id="ACROSS_THE_WATERS"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>ACROSS THE WATERS<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>A Story of the City of Refuge Planned by Mordecai Noah.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The two children stood hand in hand in a corner of Mr. Mordecai Noah's
+handsome library in New York, both badly frightened, although the boy
+tried hard to appear at ease in his strange surroundings. They still
+wore the dress of their native Tunis; Hushiel in silken blouse and
+short black trousers, with mantle and fez such as Mohammedans wear,
+his little sister, Peninah, a quaint picture in her short jacket,
+baggy trousers and pointed cap. No wonder the old family servant, who
+had gasped when admitting them, had gone off to summon his master,
+declaring to himself that these visitors looked even more heathenish
+than the painted Indians who occasionally called upon Mr. Noah at his
+Buffalo home.</p>
+
+<p>"Do sit down, Peninah," suggested the boy in a half-whisper, too
+overawed by the elegant furnishings and long rows of books to speak
+out loud. He pointed to a tall, carved arm chair but Peninah shook her
+head and clung more tightly to his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all so strange," she whispered back, "just like an old tale
+Nissim, the story teller, used to tell sometimes at home&mdash;all of it,
+the big ship, and the many people when we came on shore in New York
+and this room&mdash;" with a gesture towards the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>table on which stood a
+tea service of heavy silver. "He must be a prince to have such
+treasures. Aren't you afraid to speak to him when he comes in?"</p>
+
+<p>"A man is never afraid," answered twelve-year-old Hushiel, stoutly.
+"He may not remember me, but I am my father's son and he will do us
+kindness for his sake." He stopped suddenly as Mr. Mordecai Noah
+entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>The master of the house was about forty, with deep, kindly eyes and a
+heavy mane of black hair brushed back from his benevolent forehead. He
+carried himself with the dignity befitting an author and statesman who
+was, perhaps, the most distinguished Jew in America in 1825. Yet in
+spite of his touch of hauteur there was a real kindliness in the
+manner in which he held out his hands to the strangers and bade them
+welcome.</p>
+
+<p>"You have come a long way," he said, with a quick glance at their
+foreign garb. "Let me make you welcome to America." He drew them to
+one of the carved settles he had brought from England and seated
+himself in the great armchair before it, smiling at the quaint picture
+little Peninah made, her slippered feet dangling high above the floor.
+"And how can I serve you?" he asked graciously.</p>
+
+<p>Hushiel felt his shyness disappearing before the great man's courtesy.
+"We are from Tunis," he answered, "and you may remember me, though I
+was but a tiny lad when you were the American consul there and visited
+my father about ten years ago. My father was Rabbi Reuben Faitusi," he
+added, not a little disappointed as the loved name failed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>awaken
+any memories in the eyes of the man before him.</p>
+
+<p>"I met so many rabbis while I was in the East," apologized Mr. Noah,
+"that the name means nothing to me for a moment. But if I were to meet
+your father again I am sure I should know him at once," he ended
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>"My father died six months ago," answered the boy, "my mother when she
+was born," and he nodded toward Peninah, who sat clutching his sleeve
+in her pretty bashfulness. "Before he died he told me how you visited
+our house and spoke long and bitterly of the persecution of our
+brethren which you had encountered through Europe and Africa on your
+travels. My father knew of what you spoke only too well, for the lot
+of our people has often been a harsh one in Tunis. And we have
+suffered for a long time." He drew himself up proudly. "My father's
+house are of the Tunsi, who some believe have been in the land for
+centuries&mdash;even before the First Temple was destroyed. And he told me
+what it meant for him to listen to the words of a stranger from a new
+land which was a land of hope for our ancient people."</p>
+
+<p>A satisfied smile played about Noah's lips. "Yes, he was like so many
+others," he nodded, "thirsty for the message of comfort I brought my
+brethren across the seas. For, as I told him, I dreamed even then that
+this America of mine would be a Land of Promise for the Jews over the
+entire earth and that I might be permitted to be the Messiah to lead
+them here."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>Hushiel tried not to look shocked. He had heard too many tales of the
+Messiah, the princely leader of the House of David, who would some day
+appear in all his glorious might to restore the Chosen People to their
+own country, not to wonder how even this powerful prince in Israel
+should dare to use his name so lightly. But his eyes sparkled at the
+memories his host's words had awakened.</p>
+
+<p>"My father spoke to me of his talk with you many times," he told Mr.
+Noah, "and how he dreamed that he might come to dwell in the city of
+refuge you planned for our people. And he promised to take me and
+her," with a gesture toward Peninah, who nodded vigorously. "But his
+eyes closed before he could behold our return. Year by year he had
+saved a little to make the journey; this he gave me and to it I added
+my mite that I had laid aside from my earnings as a mechanic; then I
+sold our household goods and came with Peninah to you that we might be
+among the first to enter your city, even as our father wished us to
+be."</p>
+
+<p>A strange look crept into Mr. Noah's eyes; a look of exultation and
+joy; he seemed for a moment like a man who sees a great hope fulfilled
+and is glad. "Your father had the faith of God in his heart," he said
+at last, "and you two are worthy of being called his children.
+Sometimes I myself have doubted whether I could forge my dream into
+reality. But when you come to me with your young and fearless hearts,
+trusting so in my mission, I must believe that I cannot fail. And you
+seem to have been sent here by a miracle. All through the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>ten years
+since I was consul to Tunis I have planned for a city of refuge for
+our people. Perhaps some day we will return to Palestine, but
+meanwhile&mdash;" he made a sweeping gesture&mdash;"meanwhile the virgin
+wilderness of this land awaits our people. Here we will build and
+plough; here we will launch our trading vessels&mdash;the Phoenicians of
+the New World." He had forgotten his listeners and spoke as though
+addressing a great multitude. "And others have shared my dreams. My
+good friend, Samuel Leggett, although a Christian, has seen my vision,
+and has aided me with his sympathy&mdash;and his gold." His dream-filled
+eyes actually twinkled and now he spoke simply with no thought of a
+vast audience to listen. "I am grateful for his sympathy, but his
+gold&mdash;with my own private fortune&mdash;helped me even more. With it I have
+purchased a great tract of land on the Niagara River for the site of
+our Jewish colony. Yes," he repeated, proudly, "I have purchased over
+two thousand acres of land on Grand Island. Persecuted Jews from all
+over the world will plant their farms there. And some day it will be
+one of the greatest commercial centers of the world, as well as a
+farming colony, for it lies close to the Great Lakes and opposite the
+new Erie Canal, through which our vessels loaded with the produce of
+our farms will sail to feed the nations."</p>
+
+<p>He paused for breath and Hushiel nodded, understanding but little the
+reason of his hosts' enthusiasm, but at least grasping the fact that
+the city of refuge of which his father had dreamed so long was about
+to be built.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>"And what will you call your city?" he ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"Ararat," answered the founder. "Some of my friends have tried to
+persuade me to name it after myself; this I would not do, but since I
+would have future generations know of my share in the building of the
+city, I shall call it Ararat, which they may interpret as the city of
+Noah. But above all would I remind all that hear its name that it is a
+city of refuge, even as the mountain Ararat was a place of safety
+after the flood which destroyed the earth in the days of Noah of old.
+Our people, tossed for so long upon the seas of bitterness and hatred,
+will rest here as the ark rested upon the mountain Ararat when the
+waters of the flood subsided."</p>
+
+<p>"But will only Jews be welcome there?"</p>
+
+<p>"It will be as open as Abraham's tent to every wanderer who seeks
+shelter there," replied Mordecai Noah with a magnificent gesture.
+"Especially to our brethren, the Indians. For I firmly believe," he
+went on, not pausing to think that the boy from across the seas could
+not possibly understand him, "I firmly believe that the red men are
+descended from the lost tribes of Israel and are ready to extend to us
+the hand of brotherhood and forsake their own gods for the God of our
+fathers. You have never seen our Indian brothers?" Hushiel shook his
+head, but Peninah, thoroughly worn out by her journey and the long
+talk which she could not comprehend, had fallen asleep and could not
+answer. "Then you will see them for the first time at the dedication
+ceremony of our city of Ararat," he promised graciously.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>"And when will the city be dedicated?" The boy's tone was eager.</p>
+
+<p>"Next week. And I will take both of you to Buffalo with me that you
+may see the ceremonies. You see you have come in good time," answered
+Mr. Mordecai Noah.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;" />
+
+<p>"But I won't go in these clothes," objected Peninah hotly.</p>
+
+<p>For almost a week she and her brother had been guests in Mr. Noah's
+household, and every day one or another of his Christian or Jewish
+friends had come to visit them. They were very wonderful people, these
+Americans, thought Peninah, and most wonderful of all were the little
+girls of her own age, with their full skirts and dainty bonnets. True,
+they had never seen the Sahara Desert or crossed the mysterious ocean,
+yet she envied them their pretty clothes, feeling outlandishly queer
+in her pointed cap and baggy trousers. Mr. Noah had been very kind to
+her; he had brought her several pretty trinkets and a box of
+sweetmeats, almost as good as those one could buy in the bazaar at
+home, she told Hushiel&mdash;but on one point he was firm and nothing could
+move him.</p>
+
+<p>"Tomorrow will be a great day for every Jew upon the face of the
+earth," he had told the children the evening before the day set for
+the dedication ceremonies for which he had brought them to Buffalo. "I
+should like to purchase a little present for each of you, some token
+that you may show <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>your children some day when you tell them of the
+founding of Ararat, my city. What shall it be?" he asked, smiling into
+their eager faces.</p>
+
+<p>"You have given us too much already, more than we can ever repay,"
+protested Hushiel, but his modest answer was quite drowned by
+Peninah's shrill:</p>
+
+<p>"I want a new dress and a bonnet with strings and slippers like the
+little American girls wear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Peninah! Aren't you ashamed to ask for so much," chided her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"And I want a little black silk bag to carry tomorrow," went on
+Peninah, unabashed. "And I think I'd like blue ribbons on the bonnet."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Noah smiled indulgently, but he shook his head. "I will get you an
+outfit such as little American girls wear," he promised, kindly, "but
+you must not wear it tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>Peninah stared at him. "But I want them for tomorrow," she protested.
+"All the little girls I have met here in your house are coming
+tomorrow and if I am dressed as they are, they will not stare at me as
+though I were a dancing girl at a fair. I'm going to take off these,"
+she tugged angrily at the bright beads about her neck, "and these,"
+and she gave a defiant twitch to her hated Oriental trousers.</p>
+
+<p>"Your clothes are very pretty," soothed Mr. Noah, "but if you prefer
+to dress like the people of our country, I will buy you everything you
+need. Only tomorrow you must wear the clothes you wore at home&mdash;even
+if the people stare."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?&mdash;I look so different&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is just because your clothes are so different," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>explained
+Mordecai Noah patiently, "that I want you to wear them. My dream is to
+have our city a refuge for the Jews of all the nations of the earth.
+Many people of Buffalo have heard your story, but they have not seen
+you. When they see you and Hushiel in your native dress, it will
+impress them greatly as they realize that even the children of the
+lands far across the sea have sought my city and long to make their
+home there. You understand, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Hushiel nodded, but Peninah stamped her small, slippered foot angrily.
+"I won't go if I have to wear these horrid clothes which make people
+stare at me," she declared angrily, and ran from the room, crying as
+she went. Mr. Noah seemed really disturbed and was about to call her
+back, but Hushiel only laughed a little and shrugged at her anger.</p>
+
+<p>"'The camel wanted to have horns, so he lost his ears for his
+greediness'," he quoted in Hebrew. "It is hard to satisfy a woman.
+Just let her have her cry and she will be as gentle as a lamb in the
+morning."</p>
+
+<p>But Peninah was decidedly sulky at breakfast the next morning and as
+the hour to attend the dedication ceremony drew near she grew actually
+violent in declaring that she wouldn't leave the house to be "a show
+thing for all those strange people to look at!" "They can look at you,
+Hushiel, all they want to," she exclaimed, "but I won't go out into
+the streets until I have new clothes!" She folded her small arms
+defiantly and glared angrily at her brother.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>Hushiel, usually patient and long-suffering, was now really angry. He
+grasped her shoulders and shook her so energetically that her bright
+beads rattled merrily together. "Now listen to me," he began sternly,
+as he released her, and she stood gasping for breath, staring at him
+with eyes wide with hurt astonishment. "I've been listening to your
+foolish words till I'm tired. So you must listen to me now and obey me
+for I take our father's place in our household, don't I?" She nodded
+sullenly, for she knew that in their native country a lad as young as
+Hushiel would be considered grown to manhood. "If he were here today
+he would command you to dry your foolish tears and come to the place
+where they are celebrating the founding of our new city. If he who has
+given us so many gifts and welcomes us to his home desires you to go
+there in your native dress, you will obey him. Else you will have to
+deal with me," and he scowled so fiercely, that even the dauntless
+Peninah was a little frightened. "Besides," he ended, craftily, "you
+are so anxious to see the Indians and Mr. Noah himself has promised
+that there will be red men at the great festival today."</p>
+
+<p>With a shrug of elaborate carelessness which didn't deceive her
+brother in the least, Peninah dried her eyes and began to smooth her
+rumpled attire. "I'll go," she said, indifferently, "but not because I
+have to obey you. It's just because I do want to see those Indians."</p>
+
+<p>Peninah's wish was gratified, for there was a goodly sprinkling of red
+men at the dedication ceremonies of the city of Ararat held in Buffalo
+on that bright <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>September day so long ago. So many citizens had
+expressed their desire to be present that it was discovered that it
+would be impossible to secure enough boats to convey them to Grand
+Island. So, although a monument was erected on the spot where the city
+of Ararat was to be built, the dedication ceremonies were held in the
+large Episcopalian church of Buffalo, which was soon crowded with
+those who either wished Mr. Noah success in his strange undertaking or
+were drawn by idle curiosity to witness the festival.</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the children from Tunis ever forgot that day. First there
+was the long and impressive procession down the main streets of
+Buffalo, led by a band of musicians playing stirring melodies all the
+while. After the musicians came companies of soldiers, many of whom
+had distinguished themselves in the war of 1812, in which conflict
+Noah had received the rank of major; behind them, garbed in their
+picturesque regalia, walked several companies of Masons, for Mr. Noah
+was a prominent member of that organization; and then came Mordecai
+Noah himself, wearing a magnificent robe of crimson silk trimmed with
+bands of ermine. Behind the Governor and Judge of Israel, as he styled
+himself, followed men prominent in the affairs of the city and state,
+a distinguished company, all eager to show their interest in the
+proposed Jewish city of refuge. At last the procession filed slowly
+into the church. The dim, rich light struggling through the stained
+windows fell like an enchanted robe upon those who had marched and
+those who were gathered there; it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>a picture the like of which has
+never been seen in America since that day.</p>
+
+<p>The two children from across the seas sat wide-eyed as they looked
+about them. The citizens of Buffalo, the richly garbed officials and
+soldiers who had marched in the procession, above all, the Indians in
+their feathers and blankets and beads, stern-faced and tall and
+slender, seemed people from another world. For a moment Hushiel was
+troubled: would his father think it right for him to attend a
+Christian church even on such a day? Then he forgot his scruples as
+Mordecai Noah, still in his crimson mantle, advanced on the platform
+to speak to the people. The boy looked from his regal figure on the
+Christian clergymen in their dark, plain robes, and his heart thrilled
+with pride. Mordecai Noah, he thought, stood head and shoulders above
+all other men, as Israel, under his wise guidance, would some day
+stand above the nations. He heard not a word of the long oration that
+followed. Instead he dreamed of the city which would arise on Grand
+Island, a city as mighty as Jerusalem of old, and in his dream he saw
+the nations of the earth entering its gates to pay tribute to its
+crimson-clad king. So he happily built his city of the clouds until
+the ceremonies were almost over and a salute of twenty-four guns made
+little Peninah start with terror and cling to him, crying aloud in her
+fright.</p>
+
+<p>And now came busy, happy days for Hushiel and Peninah. Peninah,
+dressed "just like a little American girl," as she proudly told
+herself a dozen times <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>a day, was sent to a school. But Mr. Noah,
+really interested in Hushiel, undertook to teach him himself,
+delighting in the boy's fine mind, so well trained by his long
+Talmudic studies with his father. As soon as he learned to read and
+write English, the lad proved to be of great assistance to his
+benefactor, copying Mr. Noah's manuscripts for the press, for that
+gentleman was an eminent journalist and one of the most popular
+dramatists of his day, and, in time, even assisting him with his
+foreign correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>The letters from abroad grew extremely heavy, for directly after the
+dedication ceremonies, Mr. Noah, as self-appointed Judge of Israel,
+sent a proclamation to all of the leading Jewish communities of the
+world, declaring that Ararat was established and inviting citizens of
+every country to come and make their home there. Those who were
+content in their adopted lands, he wrote, might remain in their homes,
+and he begged all Jewish soldiers in foreign armies to remember that
+the Jew must be true to the obligation of the state in which he lives.
+But he urged every loyal Jew who longed for the restoration of
+Israel's glory to pay a yearly tax of three shekels (ancient Jewish
+coin worth about a quarter in our currency) and to appoint deputies in
+their respective countries who would elect a new ruler or Judge of the
+Jewish state every fourth year. And that the new state should be
+thoroughly democratic, Mordecai Noah appointed influential Jews in
+every important Jewish community to act as his commissioners in
+governing the city of Ararat.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>To Hushiel the proclamation seemed all that could be desired and he
+waited eagerly for the warm response he felt must come from every Jew
+to whom Noah appealed. But to his great surprise, the post brought
+letter after letter either of ridicule or denunciation; even the Jews
+who lived in the countries of darkest persecution refused to listen to
+his offer of a home in the new Jewish colony. True, many of them
+longed to emigrate to America, the land which had been a place of
+refuge to their brothers for so many years. Others dreamed of a return
+to Palestine, willing to live there as exiles in their homeland until
+the coming of the Messiah brought Israel's freedom. Letter after
+letter from across the seas refused to aid Noah in his dream for
+Jewish emancipation. "We are happy in our adopted land," wrote one.
+"When God in His mercy sends the Messiah, then will He lead Israel
+back to the Promised Land, Palestine, and not before," wrote another.
+While the Jews of America, in their pride as American citizens, were
+as swift as their brethren abroad to ridicule Noah's plans for Ararat,
+denouncing them as impious or impractical.</p>
+
+<p>But the boy's faith in the project never wavered. He did not venture
+to offer his master sympathy for his disappointment, but in his shy,
+boyish way, he did manage to assure Noah again and again that he still
+believed in the city of refuge and longed to dwell there. And Noah
+never failed to smile at his half-uttered assurances, although he
+never answered them directly. Once he kindly placed his hand upon the
+boy's shoulder and Hushiel felt as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>proud as a young squire whom his
+master had dubbed knight.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the correspondence concerning Ararat diminished and finally
+it ceased altogether. Mordecai Noah made no comment; there was still
+plenty of work for Hushiel with the newspaper articles; he also copied
+portions of the Book of Jasher which Mr. Noah was translating from the
+Hebrew. So the two labored together day after day, but neither even
+mentioned the dream that had called Hushiel across the seas.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to Washington on business," his master informed Hushiel
+one morning as they sat in his study, ready to begin work on the day's
+tasks. "I may be gone for some time. You have been working hard and
+faithfully," he added kindly, "and you deserve a holiday. Would you
+care to go to Washington with me?"</p>
+
+<p>Hushiel answered with difficulty, his eyes seeking the floor, for
+suddenly a daring idea had captured his brain. "You are very kind," he
+stammered, "but&mdash;if I might&mdash;may I spend my holiday as I please, if I
+am back at my tasks in time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely." Noah's hand sought his wallet. "Here is money. Give Peninah
+a little treat, too, and do not hurry back to your desk too soon. When
+you are ready for work again, you will find plenty of manuscript which
+I will leave for you to copy during my absence. I think I will be gone
+a fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>"My holiday will not last that long," answered the boy, turning back
+to his papers. "And, please sir, do not mention this to Peninah. I
+will buy her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>some pleasure with the money you have just given me. But
+I must have my holiday alone."</p>
+
+<p>So Hushiel was alone when he stood before the monument of brick and
+wood which had been erected on Grand Island, the proposed site of the
+city of Ararat. To the lad, unused to the wilderness of America, the
+journey down the river had been a fascinating one. Now he stood alone
+in the vast silence, broken only by the roar of the Falls in the
+distance. How long he stood here before the pile of bricks and wood
+Hushiel never knew. When he tried to recall the scene years
+afterwards, he pictured clearly a slender, dark-skinned boy lying upon
+the ground, weeping bitterly as he listened to the rumblings of
+Niagara which seemed to mock him as he grieved for the city which had
+perished at its birth. For now he realized without a word from
+Mordecai Noah that the dream had failed&mdash;that his people must wait a
+little longer for a real Messiah to lead them into the Land of
+Promise. Bitterest of all, even more bitter than the breaking of his
+dream, was the realization that Mordecai Noah, for all his lofty
+ideals, his generous motives, was not of the stuff of which leaders
+are made. His voice, no matter how eloquent, would never be heeded
+should he again seek to call the wandering children of Israel
+together. And thinking of these things, the boy wept like a little
+child.</p>
+
+<p>Years later, when the monument on Grand Island had fallen into decay,
+Hushiel saw the cornerstone of the dream city, Ararat, displayed in
+one of the rooms of the Buffalo Historical Society. He was no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>longer
+a sensitive boy, yet the tears sprang to his eyes as he re-read the
+old inscription which you may still read if you visit the Society's
+rooms today: "<i>Shema Yisroel, Adonoi Elohenu, Adonoi Echod</i> (Hear, O
+Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One). Ararat, a City of Refuge
+for the Jews, Founded by Mr. M. Noah in the month Tishri, 5586, Sept.,
+1825, and in the 50th year of American Independence."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THREE_AT_GRACE" id="THREE_AT_GRACE"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THREE AT GRACE<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Story of the First Jewish Settler in Alabama.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Colonel Hawkins, the Indian agent for the government at Pole Cat
+Springs, Alabama, in 1804, leaned across the pine table to extend a
+cordial hand to his visitor. Abram Mordecai, who stood before him,
+although almost fifty, gave one the impression of a much younger man.
+Lean and lithe as a panther, with shaggy black hair and keen eyes, his
+distinctly Jewish features were so tanned and weather-beaten that he
+looked far more the Indian than the Jew. He nodded gayly to his
+employer before he flung himself into a chair, his gun-stock between
+his knees, his great brown hands clasped behind his head. As he sat
+there dressed in the buckskin shirt and trousers of his half-civilized
+Indian neighbors, every free movement of his large body suggesting his
+life in the wilderness, the Jewish adventurer presented a perfect
+picture of the pioneer of his day.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come, Colonel Hawkins," he began in his usual abrupt manner,
+"to ask your help in building a cotton gin. Yes," as the other showed
+surprise, "I know the enterprise seems a strange one for a rover like
+me to suggest, and, perhaps, a foolish undertaking in the wilderness.
+Yet the wilderness must pass and we must build now for the days to
+come."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>"Go on, Mordecai," encouraged his chief. "What are your plans?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know how eager you are to civilize the Indians in our region and
+teach them the arts of peace," went on Mordecai. "Thus far we have
+done nothing but trade with them for pelties and healing barks and
+oils. But could we not have the squaws raise the cotton and bring it
+down the river in their canoes and prepare it in our gin for the
+market in New Orleans?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good." Hawkins nodded approvingly. "First we must gain permission of
+the Hickory Ground Indians for the erection of our gin, for it will
+not be wise to risk their enmity at the outset. But there is not
+another gin in the state. Where shall we find a pattern; where shall
+we get the workmen to fashion one for us; or the needed tools?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of that," Abram Mordecai told him. "There are two Jews
+of Georgia, Lyon and Barrett, who have both the tools and the skill
+for the task. I met Lyon when we were both young men serving in the
+army under General Washington. You can rely upon him for faithful
+service."</p>
+
+<p>A little smile curved the agent's lips. "You Jews!" he exclaimed. "Is
+there any enterprise in which you have not had a hand? Even back to
+the building of the pyramids in old Egypt! It is like a Jew to plan
+the first cotton gin in Alabama&mdash;and to bring two of his race to build
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"We are indeed builders," answered Mordecai a little dryly, "but not
+always for ourselves." He rose. "Shall I send for them?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>"The sooner the better. And it will be good to meet your fellow
+Hebrews again, eh, Mordecai?"</p>
+
+<p>Abram Mordecai, already at the door, turned a moment. His eyes, a
+striking hazel in the tan of his roughened face, grew wistful for a
+moment. "I am more Indian than Jew, more savage than white man," he
+answered gravely. "Perhaps it is a pity," and he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Mordecai, the child of the wilderness, where the struggle against
+savage and beast of prey sharpen the wits and teach the pioneer the
+need for rapid decisions, lost no time in executing his commission. As
+soon as word could reach Lyon, he informed his old comrade of the work
+he had in mind for him. The next post told Mordecai that the two men
+with their tools, gin saws and other materials loaded upon pack
+horses, were already on their way to Alabama. He waited eagerly for
+their arrival. The gin meant more to him than a source of revenue,
+were he successful in the cotton market. For, as Hawkins had observed,
+the Jew was not content to be a mere trader and hunter, like so many
+adventurers of the back woods. He longed to build, to create something
+lasting even in that ever-changing wilderness. And perhaps, mingled
+with his impatience, was a queer longing to see his own again, not
+merely white men like Colonel Hawkins, but Jews such as he had known
+before leaving his native Pennsylvania so many years ago. He smiled to
+find himself actually counting the days before he could expect Lyon
+and Barrett to arrive.</p>
+
+<p>They came at last one evening near sunset, two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>brown-skinned rovers
+in half-savage dress affected by the backwoodsmen of that day; Lyon,
+grave and silent, Barrett, with a boy's laugh, despite the sprinkling
+of gray in his curly hair. Mordecai stood at the door of his hut to
+greet them. A little behind him, humbly respectful like all the women
+of her nation to her lord and master, stood a squaw clad in a blanket
+with strings of beads woven in the long, dark braids of her hair. Her
+bright, black eyes sparkled with interest as she surveyed the
+strangers; but as they came nearer, she turned quickly and went back
+into the hut, where she continued to prepare the evening meal. But
+Mordecai advanced toward the travellers, his hand extended in welcome.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Shalom Aleichem</i>," he began, his tongue faltering a little over the
+old Hebrew greeting he had not used for so long. "I am glad you have
+come at last."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Aleichem Shalom</i>," answered Lyon. "It is long since we have met,
+Abram Mordecai." He took his old comrade's outstretched hand and
+indicated Barrett with a curt nod. "My friend," he said, briefly. "He
+will help us build the gin."</p>
+
+<p>"You are both welcome," their host assured them. "Becky," he called,
+and the Indian woman appeared at the door, "unload the horses and bed
+them for the night with ours," and he indicated a roughly constructed
+barn a little way from the hut which it so resembled. "But first bring
+a pail of fresh water from the spring that these gentlemen may wash
+after their journey."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>Becky, still devouring the newcomers with her eyes, curiously, like
+those of an inquisitive squirrel, caught up a wooden bucket that stood
+by the open door and started down the winding path that led to the
+spring. "My wife," explained Mordecai, pretending not to see the look
+of surprise with which his former friend Lyon greeted his statement.
+"Yes," half in apology, "I know it seems strange to you. But for so
+many years I felt myself a part of the Creek nation, that when I was
+ill with malarial fever and she nursed me back to health, I was glad
+to lessen my loneliness and make her my wife according to the customs
+of her people. Yet," and he smiled a little bitterly, "yet, strange as
+it may seem, I still remember that I am a Jew."</p>
+
+<p>He led them into the little cabin with its one window and floor of
+clay. At one end stood a rude fireplace made of bricks where a huge
+kettle swung Indian-fashion above the logs. At the other end of the
+room several heavy blankets indicated a bed, the only furniture being
+a few rough chairs, a table and an old trunk half covered by a gayly
+striped blanket such as Indian women weave. "A rough place, even for
+the wilderness," confessed Mordecai, "but I dare attempt no better. Of
+late, the Indians once so friendly, have grown surly and suspicious;
+they rightly fear that the white man will wrench the wilderness from
+them. Especially Towerculla, a neighboring chief, who hates the ways
+of the whites and has been murmuring against me ever since he has
+heard that a cotton gin will be erected through my agency. So who
+knows when I will be driven <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>from this place by the red men&mdash;providing
+that they allow me to escape with my life."</p>
+
+<p>"And have you no white neighbors?" asked Barrett, who had seated
+himself upon the trunk, where he sat loosening his dusty leggins.</p>
+
+<p>"There is 'Old Milly'." Mordecai's hazel eyes twinkled a little. "She
+is the wife of an English soldier who deserted from the army during
+the Revolution. After her husband's death she took up her abode here.
+She is a woman of strong and resolute character and has considerable
+power over the Indians of this district, who stand greatly in awe of
+her. She lately married a red man and is really a great person in our
+little community, for she owns several slaves and many horses and
+cattle. Tomorrow I will introduce you to my only white neighbor. But
+here is Becky with the water," as the squaw entered with the brimming
+pail. "Wash the dust from your faces that we may sit and eat, for you
+must be nearly famished."</p>
+
+<p>The travelers, having washed in the wooden basin that stood on one of
+the chairs and shaken some of the dust from their garments, now came
+eagerly enough to the table, which the silent Becky had prepared for
+them. Upon the bare boards she had set several mugs and heavy crockery
+bowls, pewter forks and a large, steaming vessel of the stew which she
+had taken from the fire, as well as several cakes made of corn flour
+and cooked in the ashes. Such fare was familiar enough to the
+pioneers, but the two guests could not help staring at the book that
+lay at each plate, a worn <i>Sidur</i> (prayer book), the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>ancient Hebrew
+characters looking strangely foreign in the primitive forests of
+America. Abram Mordecai saw the two men exchange glances and flushed a
+little beneath his tan.</p>
+
+<p>"A foolish thought of mine," he murmured. "When I left my father's
+house in Pennsylvania I carried one of these in my pack, wrapped in
+the <i>talith</i> (praying shawl), he had brought with him from Germany.
+And later I found the two others in the bundle of a Jewish peddlar
+murdered by the Indians. The Indian agent at St. Mary's sent me to
+ransom him and several other captives taken by the Creeks, but I came
+too late. Somehow, I could not bear to throw them away or destroy
+them. They have been with me in all my wanderings and more than once
+when I thought it about time for the fall holy days have I read the
+prayers and wished that I might have a few of my brethren with me to
+observe them aright. And tonight&mdash;" for a moment the confident,
+self-reliant adventurer seemed as embarrassed as a bashful child, "and
+tonight I hoped that since there would be three of us at grace, we
+might read the benedictions together&mdash;if you care to&mdash;and I would know
+how it feels to be a Jew again."</p>
+
+<p>Barrett laughed, his hearty school boy laugh, as he flung himself
+unceremoniously into a chair beside the table. "It's many a day since
+I've said or heard a <i>brocha</i> (blessing)," he said, "but I'll go
+through it without any book, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Lyon said nothing, as he took the place Mordecai assigned him at the
+foot of the table, but there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>was a tender look about his grave mouth.
+Perhaps he realized how difficult it had been for Mordecai to confess
+his loneliness for the customs of his people; but, according to his
+wont, he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Smiling almost childishly, Mordecai passed a bowl of water to each of
+his guests that they might wash their hands, which they did, murmuring
+the blessing as they did so. Then, taking his place at the head of the
+table, he poured water over his own hands, saying the Hebrew
+benediction as he wiped them upon a faded red napkin which lay beside
+his <i>Sidur</i>. Somehow, after his brief confession, he felt ashamed to
+tell his guests that the napkin had belonged to his mother and had
+rested beside the neglected <i>Sidur</i> for so many years. Then, breaking
+a bit from the bread and handing it to each of the men, he repeated
+the blessing for which, although he had not recited it for so many
+years, he need no prompting from the worn black book beside his plate.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who bringest
+forth bread from the earth," he said in Hebrew.</p>
+
+<p>Becky, as her husband called her, stood in the background as silent as
+a bronze statute until the little ceremony was over. If she was
+impressed by the strangeness of it all, she gave no sign. For so many
+of the customs of her husband's alien race were strange to her that
+she had long ago ceased to wonder or desire any explanation. Now at a
+sign from Mordecai, she took away the bowl of water, and, filling a
+plate with the savoury stew, took it to the corner of the hut, here,
+crouched upon the blankets, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>she ate her supper, quite content to
+watch the white strangers from a distance.</p>
+
+<p>Mordecai served his guests, then himself, and over the stew and corn
+bread the men exchanged stories of their experiences in the
+wilderness. The host told a little of his own adventures since leaving
+the east, of his life as a trader with the Indians, of the peace
+treaty he had brought about with the Chickasaw nation, of his journeys
+south to New Orleans and Mobile, his furs and medicinal barks piled
+high in the barge with no companions but the painted savages to assist
+him. A life of highly-colored adventure with variety enough to satisfy
+any spirit, but even now Mordecai was growing restless and longed for
+another enterprise to occupy him after the cotton gin should be
+completed.</p>
+
+<p>Then, the meal being over, Mordecai, with the same shamefaced
+bashfulness he had shown when speaking of the <i>Sidurim</i>, turned the
+pages of the book, saying almost wistfully: "I know that tonight is
+not a festival or Sabbath with us, gentlemen, but if you would care to
+go over the psalm with me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We've been waiting a long time for this and we'll give good measure,"
+laughed little Barrett, but his eyes did not jest as Mordecai in the
+quaint old sing-song of the synagogue began "When the Lord turned
+again the captivity of Zion" and Lyon gravely followed.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," Mordecai's face fairly glowed with pleasure, "now we will
+have the special grace, since there are three of us at the table."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>"Let us say grace," he began, with hardly a look at the Hebrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth and forever,"
+responded his guests.</p>
+
+<p>"With the permission of those present," went on the host, "we will
+bless Him of whose bounty we have partaken."</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed be He of whose bounty we have partaken," answered the others,
+"and through whose goodness we live."</p>
+
+<p>As Mordecai repeated the Hebrew phrases, learned in his almost
+forgotten <i>Cheder</i> (Hebrew School) days, a great longing came upon him
+and the tears coursed down his cheeks. To return again to this home,
+to keep the customs of his people and to die at last with Jewish
+friends about him and the Hebrew's declaration of faith upon his lips!
+But, as he closed the book, his eyes glanced about the little room and
+they grew dark with pain. The gun standing in the corner, the furs
+drying upon the wall, Becky crouching upon the blankets&mdash;all spoke to
+him of a life he had lived too long to exchange for the quiet
+existence of which he sometimes dreamed. He rose, and, with an abrupt
+gesture, pointed to a shaggy robe before the fire place.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no better bed to offer you," he said, "but I know you are not
+used to a soft couch. You must be tired from your journey. Becky will
+tend to your horses so you had better sleep now, that tomorrow we may
+start out early and visit Colonel Hawkins. He would see you before you
+begin work on the cotton gin."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>The cotton gin, the first to be built in Alabama, was completed in due
+time, and Barrett and Lyons, their pack horses again loaded with their
+tools, were ready to return to Georgia. If Mordecai felt any pain at
+having his co-religionists depart, he was skilful in concealing it.
+For, after his confidence over the supper table, he had slipped back
+into his stoical reserve and not even the taciturn Lyon was more
+silent or chary of speech in anything that did not directly concern
+the business in hand. So it was merry little Barrett who alone
+mentioned the occasion that for a moment had brought the strangers of
+the wilderness together and had made them brothers.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll be coming back again when we want a taste of Becky's good
+stew&mdash;and a blessing afterwards," he jested as he swung himself into
+his saddle and reached down to shake hands with Mordecai.</p>
+
+<p>"Or to build another gin if the Indians do not molest this one and
+drive me off," answered Mordecai lightly, but the jest lingered in his
+mind. His life among the superstitious savages, his solitary hours in
+the wilderness, had helped to tinge his shrewd, practical mind with a
+strong mysticism. He tried to dismiss the matter; but, as he walked
+back to his hut that evening, Barrett's light words haunted him and
+gave him no rest. "Perhaps," he muttered, "perhaps, before my life is
+over, we will meet again and there will be three of us at grace."</p>
+
+<p>But his fancies fled and his dreamy face grew hard and alert as he
+came to the clearing before <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>his hut. There, in the midst of his
+Indian followers, all armed with long poles, stood Chief Towerculla,
+threatening Becky. The squaw had placed herself in the door of the
+hut, where she stood with folded arms, listening to the Chief's angry
+threats. If she felt any fear, there was no trace of it in her
+expressionless face. Nor did she seem relieved when Mordecai pushed
+between her and the angry Indian and demanded what business had
+brought him there. She merely shrugged a little, hitched up her
+buckskin skirt and resumed her task of pounding corn between two
+stones at the door of the hut, appearing to take no interest in the
+quarrel that followed. For like a good squaw, she did not think it
+seemly to interfere in her husband's business affairs.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Towerculla," began Mordecai in the Indian tongue which he
+spoke fluently. "Why do you come here and seek to frighten my squaw in
+my absence? And why have you brought your men with you?"</p>
+
+<p>The Chief grunted in disgust. "And why do you bring the pale face here
+to build?" he answered Mordecai question for question. "Our squaws are
+well satisfied to work in the fields, to make oil from the hickory
+nuts, to weave blankets. But you would have them sell you cotton to
+make you rich; you would build a store and other white men would be
+greedy to trade with our women and build other gins and other
+stores&mdash;and soon there would be many of your people while we&mdash;" he
+waved his hand toward his warriors, "we children of the red <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>men would
+be driven further into the wilderness. You have already driven us too
+far, you white men. I am willing to spare you for the sake of 'Old
+Milly,' whom we do not fear, for she is one of us. And she has pleaded
+for you more than once. So I will allow you and your squaw to depart
+in peace. By tomorrow morning leave for some other place&mdash;for it is
+not good to dwell here any longer."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mordecai was too astonished to answer. Then he laughed
+boldly into the Indian's angry face. Towerculla sprang for him, but
+Mordecai swiftly stepped aside, and crouching, sprung upon the Chief
+and struck him to the ground. For a minute the two struggled together.
+Then the Indians fell upon Mordecai and released Towerculla, who rose
+from the dust, his face terrible in his anger. Mordecai struggled in
+vain against the blows of Towerculla's followers. As he sank to the
+ground overpowered, he caught himself murmuring, "They cannot kill me,
+until we three say grace together again," even while he longed for
+death to cut short the agony which was beginning to wrack every limb
+of his cruelly beaten body. Then out of the mist of red which seemed
+to swim before his eyes, a merciful black cloud descended and he knew
+nothing more until he regained consciousness and found himself in "Old
+Milly's" cabin, with Becky, still calm of face and quiet of voice
+bathing his wounds with cool water from the spring.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened?" he asked, trying to rise, but falling back
+moaning in his pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Milly," a tall, sharp-faced woman, who sat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>weaving a basket as
+skillfully as any squaw, answered him. "Towerculla would have slain
+you, had not Becky brought me in time. He is not a good enemy to have,
+Abram Mordecai. When you are stronger, you must take his advice and go
+away. The Indians did not burn the barn, so your horses are safe, but
+the house was in flames before I could reach it and persuade
+Towerculla to leave you in peace."</p>
+
+<p>Becky rose and walked to the table. Returning to where her husband
+lay, she placed in his hand three books with worn black covers and a
+faded red napkin. "I ran and got these when I saw they were destroying
+our cabin," she told him. "I knew you had kept them long; that they
+were dear to you as the gods of our people are to us&mdash;like a charm,
+maybe, to keep death away. And perhaps, when the white men come again,
+you will want to have them on the table and sing."</p>
+
+<p>For the moment, Mordecai forgot that Becky was only a squaw,
+undeserving, according to the custom of her people, either thanks or
+praise. "You are a very good wife," he said, gently, "and I will buy
+you real gold earrings with the first money I earn from the cotton
+gin." And since he was so weak, neither woman dared to tell him for
+several days that the vengeance of the Indians had extended to the gin
+house, which now lay a heap of black ruins hear the river.</p>
+
+<p>Broken in body and ruined in fortune, Mordecai accompanied by the
+faithful Becky, bade farewell to Colonel Hawkins and journeyed further
+into the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>wilderness. For the Indian agent prudently refused to erect
+a second gin while the Indians still planned to injure Mordecai, and
+the adventurer himself felt that it would be hopeless to seek to gain
+the friendship of the embittered Chief. Trader and trapper, he led his
+solitary existence in the south, with no companionship but Becky's,
+until her death left him entirely alone.</p>
+
+<p>He had regained his former vigor by this time and sometimes dreamed of
+returning to his boyhood home. But from the pioneer towns springing up
+wherever he passed, he knew that a new civilization was rising in
+America; that he was of the generation that must pass away as surely
+as the Indian and he realized that he would feel sadly out of place in
+the surroundings that he had known as a boy. Yet, dreamer that he was,
+he never ceased to picture himself, a sober stay-at-home citizen,
+living out the last years of his life in communion with his fellow
+Jews, who had never left their quiet firesides. Nor in all his
+wanderings did he ever part with the three <i>Sidurim</i> and the faded red
+napkin. For as he grew older, the fantastic notion grew ever stronger
+that before he died he would again say grace with the builders of his
+cotton gin.</p>
+
+<p>Almost a century old, he wandered back at last to Montgomery county,
+seeking the very spot where his hut had stood before Chief Towerculla
+had driven him away. Now the settlement of Dudlyville, so close at
+hand, made him feel cramped and uncomfortable. Colonel Hawkins had
+long since left Pole Cat Springs; Chief Towerculla, driven away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>by
+the white men he had always feared, was dead; "Old Milly" no longer
+lived in her savage kingdom with her husband and her slaves.</p>
+
+<p>But he felt too tired to travel further; perhaps he realized that no
+matter where he went he would feel lonely as the survivor of another
+day and generation. So he built a tiny cabin for himself, even putting
+together some crude furniture. Here he lived, never seeing a human
+face unless he walked to the village to secure supplies, which the
+settlers, vaguely touched by his loneliness, never failed to press
+upon him. He talked to them sometimes of the days before the
+wilderness had been conquered, speaking too, of the first cotton gin,
+which the Indians had destroyed. "I love the spot," he used to say,
+"but it is growing too crowded; yes," with a shake of his white head,
+"too crowded for one who needs plenty of fresh air to breathe. Next
+spring I must journey on." But when spring came, he would wait until
+fall, and again through the long winter. For his old ambition had left
+him and though his heart still wandered afar through the forests, his
+feet were too weary to follow it.</p>
+
+<p>But one evening he felt strangely strong and refreshed. He had worked
+hard all the afternoon cleaning his little hut and now the humble room
+looked as spotless as spring water and vigorous scrubbing could make
+it. Even the table and chairs were scoured and the fireplace cleaned,
+while, to complete the day's task Mordecai had emptied an old barrel
+in the corner, burning the heap of odds and ends which had accumulated
+since his return. But now as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>he stood behind the table he held in his
+hand three black books and a faded napkin which he could not bring
+himself to destroy. As he stood there with the rays of the setting sun
+falling through the open door on his shaggy white head, old memories
+burned in his faded eyes and a strange, dreamy smile played about his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"I have found the books&mdash;it is time for them to come and say 'grace',"
+he murmured to himself. "I have put my house in order. I know it is
+time for me to go away&mdash;into the Great Wilderness&mdash;but not until we
+have three at grace once more."</p>
+
+<p>Carefully placing a book at each place, he drew up two chairs and a
+box, spread the napkin at the head of the table and set out his few
+poor dishes and humble evening meal. Then he took his place, opened
+his book and waited. The Hebrew letters seemed strangely blurred; for
+the first time in his life his keen eyes failed him. But, glancing up,
+he thought he saw his two guests, Lyon and Barrett in their places
+waiting for him to begin the blessing before the meal.</p>
+
+<p>"I am ready," he said, and even as he spoke, his head dropped upon the
+open book and Mordecai's restless spirit was at rest forever.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_LUCKY_STONE" id="THE_LUCKY_STONE"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THE LUCKY STONE<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the First Naval Officer of his Day.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>A little brown sand piper scudded along the beach. Uriah Levy, a
+brown-faced lad who looked several years older than a boy who had just
+passed his eleventh birthday, lay upon the shore and smiled to see it
+flirt importantly past him as though in a tremendous hurry to reach
+its destination. Then his keen eyes turned toward the sea, blue and
+stainless, as level as the long looking glass in his mother's parlor
+at home. Several sea gulls skimmed the quiet waters, now rising until
+their gray-white plumage melted into the clouds, now seeming to float
+upon the tide. Uriah was a trifle sorry when they disappeared at last,
+for he loved the sea gulls dearly. They seemed so akin to him in their
+wild freedom, in their love for the solitary waste of waters. Ever
+since he could remember, he, too, had loved the sea, since the days
+when he was a tiny boy, sailing his paper boats to strange ports
+across the ocean. And tomorrow he was going to sea at last&mdash;a real
+cabin boy in a real vessel! He threw himself back upon the warm sands
+and with half-closed eyes lay dreaming of the future.</p>
+
+<p>He was aroused from his day dreaming by the strange uneasiness that
+comes to one who feels that he is being observed. Sitting up, he saw
+that Ned Allison, a lad whose father owned a fishing shack <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>near by,
+had come down to the beach and was now standing over him, his hands
+thrust into the pockets of his ragged trousers, his bare, brown toes
+kicking among the pebbles at his feet. The newcomer was a few years
+younger than Levy, a grave, stolid lad with bright, restless eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Ned," Uriah greeted him. "Did you know I was going to sea
+tomorrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You're lucky." The other's tone was delightfully envious of
+Uriah's good fortune. "I've got to wait till I'm twelve or maybe
+fifteen, I guess. Father's rheumatism is bad lately and I have to help
+him. How're you going?" He sank beside Uriah on the sands and gazed
+longingly over the blue waters.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to ship as cabin boy; but I won't be gone long." Uriah
+couldn't help bragging a little as he told his good fortune. "I'm
+going to be like Paul Jones and that crowd&mdash;if it takes a hundred
+years."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be too old then," observed Ned dryly. He began to turn over
+the heap of pebbles that lay between them. "Now if you were to find an
+oyster or clam shell with several big pearls you could buy a ship of
+your own right now and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd make you first mate," promised Uriah, generously. Leaning on his
+elbow, he too began to turn over the pebbles, for like every boy of
+his years he never gave up hope of finding an oyster shell thickly
+studded with pearls, each one milk-white and shining and worth a
+king's ransom. "Yes," he went on, dreamily, "I'd rig out a brig right
+away and sail the seas till I got tired. First, I guess, I'd clear
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>Spanish Main of pirates and then I'd visit far-off countries
+across the ocean. Remember what old Captain Ferguson told us about
+'em; palm trees, and naked black men who'll sell you ivory and
+precious stones for a string of beads or a piece of red cloth? That's
+what I'd do if I had a ship of my own."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'd rather go to war," observed Allison with equal
+seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course! If there would only be a war with some country or other,
+I'd like to be captain of the American Navy and capture all the other
+nation's vessels and tow 'em into port." His eager face clouded. "But
+I've heard my father say that this country's lucky to have peace after
+the Revolution; that we have to rest and grow strong. I suppose it
+isn't any more likely than either of us ever finding a pearl among all
+these stones." Suddenly he interrupted himself with a shrill whistle
+of delight. "I found a lucky stone," he exclaimed, "a beauty," holding
+it up for Ned's inspection. "And I'm going to wear it for luck as long
+as I'm a sailor." He took a piece of string from his pocket and ran it
+through one of the holes. "Maybe," he laughed, hanging the charm about
+his neck, "maybe this is almost as good as finding a pearl. Anyhow, I
+don't care about being rich as long as I can go to sea."</p>
+
+<p>Uriah Levy stood upon the sea shore, no longer a dreaming boy, but a
+stalwart youth of twenty. At sixteen he already held the position of
+first mate after becoming part owner of the brig, "Five Sisters," on
+which he had made five voyages. It had not been easy for a youth with
+the down of manhood scarcely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>visible upon his cheeks to rule a crew
+gathered in that day from the riff-raff and scum of the sailing-ports.
+Yet the Jewish lad, who one day was to make it his boast that he had
+abolished the barbarous custom of corporal punishment from the United
+States Navy, by resorting to force ruled without difficulty when his
+lawless seamen once realized his courage and the strength of his
+fists.</p>
+
+<p>But in the year 1812 the times were still wild times upon the ocean
+and it was no uncommon thing for a law-abiding crew to grow weary of
+the restraints of their commander, mutiny and follow the sea after the
+manner of the pirates who still ruled the Spanish Main. And so, when
+Uriah P. Levy became master of the schooner, "George Washington," not
+even his iron discipline was strong enough to withstand the plotting
+of several of the bolder spirits of his crew. Almost under his very
+eyes, the mutiny had been hatched and had grown to a head.</p>
+
+<p>Standing upon the lonely sea shore, Uriah recalled the swarthy,
+leering face of Sam Jones, recently punished for infraction of
+discipline, and the crooked smile of Martin, he who puffed
+everlastingly at his pipe and wore a red handkerchief for a turban and
+earrings of heavy gold. He had known them for the ringleaders in the
+plot against him, even before they had seized command of the vessel
+and taken possession of the cabin that they might hold council whether
+their master should be spared or cast into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>"He's but a boy," Martin had argued. "Let him go. Put him in a boat
+and set him adrift. We're off <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>the coast of Carolina now and even if
+he gets there with a whole skin, he's not likely to worry us when
+we're flying the black flag on the Main."</p>
+
+<p>But Sam Jones had urged instant death. "Let him walk the plank," he
+suggested, his small eyes glittering with hate. "He's only a boy, but
+I tell you I'm afraid of him&mdash;sore afraid."</p>
+
+<p>Martin laughed scornfully, puffing at his pipe. "I'm willing to take
+the risk," he declared, "though it's no concern of mine. So let's
+shake dice and the man who wins will say what's to be done with him."</p>
+
+<p>There in the dimly lighted cabin, Levy with his arms bound behind him,
+had watched the game of dice as calmly as though his life did not lie
+in the hands of the two who played for such a ghastly stake. Out on
+the deck, the mutineers drank and jested and sang uproariously in
+their new freedom. He wondered if that were to be the end: a short
+plank, a blow to thrust him into the dark waves of the ocean which he
+had loved so well. Uriah closed his eyes, swaying a little; but he was
+quite calm, even smiling, when Jones sneered in disgust:</p>
+
+<p>"Born to hang, will never drown. You win, Martin." He pushed the dice
+aside and rose to release Levy from his bonds. "Here you," he called
+to several sailors loitering near the door, "get a small boat ready
+and set him adrift."</p>
+
+<p>"And put in a pair of oars," added Martin. "Give the lad a fighting
+chance, can't you? And some bread and a jug of water, too." Somehow he
+felt suddenly uncomfortable before the boy's quiet gaze. "Aren't you
+going to thank me?" he half blustered.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>"I am an American gentleman," answered Levy, very slowly, "and I hold
+no speech with outlaws and pirates." And before the astonished
+mutineer could answer him he followed the sailors from the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>And now his perilous journey was over at last, although his frail boat
+had been destroyed on the rocks before he reached the shore. An
+excellent swimmer, Levy had stripped off his shoes and coat and jumped
+into the water. Cleaving the waves with long powerful strokes, he soon
+reached land, where for several hours he lay wet and exhausted, so
+bitterly discouraged that he almost wished Jones had prevailed and cut
+his throat or forced him to walk the plank. Better to have fallen
+asleep beneath the waves, he thought, than try to live, a hopeless and
+a defeated man.</p>
+
+<p>It was now past sunset and Levy mechanically set about building a fire
+to warm his aching limbs and keep off any prowling beasts while he
+slept. Scooping a hollow in the sand beyond the reach of the tide, he
+gathered dry drift wood which he finally lighted by the aid of a spark
+struck from two stones. He was hungry now and even more anxious for a
+smoke than for food; at that moment he hated the crew less for making
+off with the vessel in which he had had a third interest than for
+casting him on this deserted shore without even the solace of his
+evening pipe. Muttering angrily, he leaned over the fire to stir the
+blaze; as he did so the damp string about his neck swung free and he
+noticed the little lucky stone still fastened to the end.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, the sight of the pebble he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>worn as a charm for
+so many years gave him courage. His bold spirit which for a little
+while had lain bruised and discouraged grew strong again; he felt that
+he was not the man to submit tamely to treachery and misfortune. He
+must win back all that he had lost that day, not only the stolen
+vessel but his self-respect. He must not allow himself beaten.
+Crouching by the fire, his chin resting on his clenched fists, his
+eyes on the flames, the boy vowed not to rest until he had defeated
+his enemies and secured what was his own. "I'm strong and young," he
+told himself, confidently, "and so far my luck has never failed me."
+And he fingered the little stone on the string about his neck. At last
+the fire died down, but there was no one to stir the dying embers, for
+Uriah Levy had fallen asleep upon the sands, the luck stone still
+clutched between his strong, brown fingers, a confident smile upon his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>In the days that followed, it was not an easy thing for young Levy to
+smile confidently in the faces of those who predicted certain failure
+in his undertaking. "Other merchants and commanders have suffered from
+pirates and mutinous crews before your day," he was informed at every
+turn. "Better ship again and look for better luck."</p>
+
+<p>Kindly and well-meant advice, but Levy would have none of it. He still
+smiled, though now somewhat grimly, as he went from friend to friend,
+insisting that he would not fail to bring his piratical crew to
+justice. And so confident was he that he would eventually find a
+backer, that he even spent several days roaming about the wharves in
+order to pick out a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>trustworthy crew, should he find anyone willing
+to send him to sea on his own vessel again.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Uriah Levy," exclaimed a deep voice as a stout sailor came
+toward him. "You surely haven't forgotten me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're Ned Allison," said Levy after a long look had convinced him
+that the slender fisher boy had grown into the burly man before him.
+"And do you follow the sea now as you planned?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. My poor father died two years ago. So I sent mother to live with
+her sister and here I am. I just hit port last week and now I'm ready
+to leave again as soon as I find a good berth. Just can't feel at home
+on dry land anymore."</p>
+
+<p>Levy nodded understandingly. "Take me to a good tavern around here,"
+he suggested. "I want to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>Allison willingly led the way to a tavern in the neighborhood much
+frequented by sailors, chatting lightly as they walked. Levy hardly
+knew him for the shy, taciturn playfellow of his boyhood. He sipped
+his ale slowly as he studied Ned's bright, eager face. Somehow he felt
+encouraged at the thought that he might induce Allison to accompany
+him, should he set out on what seemed to be a hopeless voyage.</p>
+
+<p>"And what have you been doing?" asked Allison, pausing for breath.
+"The last I heard of you, you were master of the 'George Washington'
+and part owner. Not that you look very lively and prosperous," he
+added with a keen glance.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>Levy briefly related the story of the mutiny and his hope to pursue
+and punish his mutinous crew. "And I'll do it, too," he added,
+passionately. "Though I suppose you, like the rest, think it's a mad
+venture," he ended, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Allison put down his mug before replying. "I can't say that I do," he
+answered slowly. "Though it's risking a good deal if you catch up to
+the dogs and they sink your ship in the scuffle. You couldn't afford
+that, could you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not thinking of the money alone," insisted Levy. "Nor of revenge;
+although I've been treated pretty shabbily and they'll pay for it, if
+I live long enough to track them down. But it's a matter of conscience
+with me, too, Allison. I'm going to do my share in making the sea
+clean of piracy. Maybe there won't be a war in our time, though they
+say there's trouble threatening with England, but I'll serve my
+country in this way at least. Want to help me?" and he leaned across
+the table, looking straight into Ned's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather ship with you as master than any man I know, Sir,"
+answered Allison, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Less than a week later, Uriah Levy succeeded in convincing several
+wealthy friends of the sanity of his plan. They advanced the necessary
+funds and with a carefully picked crew he started out on a vessel of
+his own with Allison as first mate in pursuit of the sailors who had
+cast him afloat near the Carolina shores.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the tales Ned Allison loved to tell his grandchildren when he
+had grown to be an old man, they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>clamored most for the story of the
+sea fight in which Uriah Levy conquered the pirate crew of the "George
+Washington." It was a short battle, but a terrible one, which he
+fought a year after the mutiny; and before the mutineers finally
+lowered their black flag in token of surrender, a third of the crew
+lay dead or wounded upon the slippery decks. Old Martin, his pipe
+still between his teeth, lay among the dead, but Sam Jones, his right
+arm hanging limp and useless at his side, was among the survivors who
+were put into irons when their vessel was taken in tow and Levy turned
+his face homeward. Like the other mutineers Jones never doubted what
+his fate would be, for those days were hard days and the men who lived
+by the sword knew only too well that at any moment death by the sword
+might be their portion. Hourly they waited for Levy to pass judgment
+upon them, to hang them from the yard arm of the ship which they had
+sailed under the flag of piracy. While Levy's own crew grew impatient
+until the first mate, Allison, ventured to speak to him of the matter
+as they sat in Levy's cabin the night after the battle.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help wondering, sir," Allison began, doubtfully, "why you
+have said nothing so far concerning the fate of our prisoners, since
+it is practically in your hands."</p>
+
+<p>Levy shook his head as he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Perhaps he
+was thinking of the night when Jones had threatened him with death and
+laughed at his helplessness. "According to the 'unwritten law' which
+is made to cover so many lawless acts, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>have the power to deal with
+them as I think fit," he answered. "And I must confess I was sorely
+tempted to take the law into my own hands when I knew the mutineers
+were in my power. But," smiling a little, "it is much better to leave
+it to the law courts when we reach port."</p>
+
+<p>"And if they should be acquitted?" Allison's eyes snapped with
+excitement. "Sir, if I were in your place&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you were in my place, you might not be censured for yielding to
+your desire for revenge," returned Levy, very quietly. "But I&mdash;" his
+voice took on a tinge of bitterness, "I am a Jew and these wretches,
+no matter how criminal, would be pitied as the victim of a Jew's
+vengeance. Even in America, my dear Allison, and in spite of the
+liberal influence of men like Thomas Jefferson, it is not always easy
+to be a Jew."</p>
+
+<p>The civil authorities, however, were entirely on Levy's side at the
+trial and the mutineers were duly tried and condemned to death. The
+young sailor was about to put out to sea again, for he longed for
+further adventure, when the outbreak of the war of 1812 set him
+a-dreaming once more of serving his country upon the sea. In spite of
+his youth, he was commissioned sailing master in the United States
+Navy, serving on the ship, "Alert," and later on the brig, "Argus,"
+which ran the blockade to France, Mr. Crawford, the American minister
+to that country, being aboard. The "Argus" captured several English
+vessels, one of which was placed at Levy's command; but his triumph
+was short-lived; recaptured by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>the English, Levy and his crew were
+kept prisoners of war in England for over a year.</p>
+
+<p>Regaining his freedom, Levy returned to America to be promoted to the
+rank of lieutenant. It was then that he realized how just had been his
+complaint to Allison, for on every hand those who were envious of his
+good fortune proved even more malicious because of his loyalty to his
+faith. Levy suffered, too, from the hatred of those naval officers who
+looked upon him as an intruder into their ranks. For, with the
+exception of a year's attendance at the Naval School in Philadelphia,
+he had had no naval training and had worked his way up from the ranks.
+Perhaps his long fight against the practise of flogging unruly sailors
+helped to add to the number of his enemies, for those in authority
+were outraged that this Jewish upstart should criticise a custom so
+deeply rooted in the traditions of the navy. Another man of quieter
+temper might have tried to combat the prejudice and hatred which met
+him at every turn; but Levy's nature was not a patient one. When
+raised to the rank of captain, he felt that he could not allow the
+slanders of one of his enemies to go unanswered; he challenged the
+Jew-hater to a duel and caused his opponent to pay for his insults
+with his life.</p>
+
+<p>Although the duel was still recognized as an honorable means of
+settling a controversy between gentlemen, Levy was made to pay
+bitterly for his vindication. His enemies were too strong for him. He
+fought them bravely and with his old proud spirit, but when the trial
+was over, Allison still serving in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>the navy, read in one of the
+newspapers that his old master had been court-martialed and dropped
+from the roll of the United States Navy as captain.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew they'd get him," thought the honest seaman. "Ah, he was too
+good for them and now they put him to shame. I couldn't blame him if
+he turned against his country when he's treated so after all his
+services. And I wonder what'll happen to him if he doesn't follow the
+sea."</p>
+
+<p>Allison was right in suspecting that his old playmate would turn in
+his trouble to the sea as a child when hurt or tired runs to its
+mother for comfort. Glad of an offer to take charge of an important
+business commission in Brazil, Levy left the United States, hoping
+that the long sea voyage might do a little toward easing the pain in
+his heart. But he found that he had been mistaken, although no one
+ever knew how deeply he suffered from the moment he left the land he
+had sought to serve from his boyhood. Disgraced by his country, tired
+and broken in spirit, he spent endless hours in brooding over his
+misfortune. No longer the commander of his men, not even a common
+seaman, he spent the long days on board leaning upon the rail, looking
+with somber eyes upon the waves. His proud heart was bitter against
+those who had goaded him on to his ruin; he felt that there was no
+justice for the Jew in the whole world, not even in America. Although
+he had already set the wheels in motion for a new trial, he was
+confident that his enemies would again prove too powerful for him. It
+was a hopeless and a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>heartsick man who landed at last and began his
+new duties at the Brazilian Capital.</p>
+
+<p>Several days after his arrival, Uriah P. Levy stood by the window of
+his room reading a letter, his brows knitted in thought. The note was
+written on the royal stationery and requested him to appear the next
+morning for an audience with Emperor Dom Pedro. Levy could think of
+but one reason for such a strange command. Perhaps the slanders of his
+enemies had preceded him even to this far-off place; perhaps he was
+already under suspicion and the audience with the emperor might lead
+to imprisonment or ejection from the country. The thought of new
+difficulties to encounter wakened his fighting spirit; he was
+strangely elated and the dreadful langor which had seized him during
+his journey disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"I am ready for another good fight," he told himself grimly as he
+prepared for bed. That night for the first time since his
+court-martial he slept the long hours through, and he rested as
+peacefully as a little child.</p>
+
+<p>Dressing himself with his usual care and holding his head as proudly
+as though he still wore his country's uniform, Levy appeared at the
+palace and was immediately ushered into the emperor's presence. His
+quick eyes, long trained to notice the smallest detail, quickly took
+in every feature of the richly appointed room, noting even the
+fantastic carving of the chair on which the emperor sat, and one of
+the rings he wore, a flat green emerald with a mystic letter carved
+upon it making the jewel, so he judged, a sort of talisman. He smiled
+in spite of himself as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>remembered his own humble charm, the lucky
+stone. Perhaps the pebble's usefulness was over; he could hardly call
+his career especially fortunate just now.</p>
+
+<p>Emperor Dom Pedro was a man of a few words. He murmured a few polite
+phrases of greeting, asked Levy of his voyage and whether he had
+completed the mission which had brought him to Brazil. "For if you
+have," he ended, "I may have matters of interest to discuss with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not quite finished with the business which brought me here,"
+answered Levy, "but naturally I am honored by your majesty's request
+to appear before you and not a little eager to learn what matters you
+may care to discuss with me."</p>
+
+<p>The emperor twirled the ring with its strange green stone about his
+finger. "I have heard much of you," he returned, briefly, "and I need
+men of your daring and enterprise in my service. Will you take an
+important commission under the Brazilian government?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Levy wavered. Already an exile in spirit, he felt he did
+not have the courage to return to his native country. Here was an
+opportunity for an honorable career which would bring him position,
+wealth, all the excitement his daring heart desired. Then, curiously
+enough, as he gazed at the emperor's ring, there flashed across his
+mind the picture of a brown-faced boy upon the sands, a boy turning a
+lucky stone in his fingers as he dreamed of a glorious career in the
+country of his birth. He turned to the emperor and spoke quietly, but
+with his characteristic decision.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>"Your majesty," said Uriah Levy, "I thank you. But the humblest
+position in my country's service is more to be preferred than royal
+favor." And bowing before Dom Pedro, he left the court.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was Levy's trust in the justice of his country unfounded. Just as
+he had persisted in bringing his mutinous crew to punishment, now he
+showed the same determination in insisting that a court of inquiry be
+established to question the justice of his court-martial. He prepared
+his own defense&mdash;merely a statement of his record while in the service
+of his country&mdash;a record that won his complete and honorable
+acquittal. Not only was he restored to his old rank in the United
+States Navy, but shortly afterwards he rose to the advanced rank of
+commodore.</p>
+
+<p>When the Civil War broke out he was holding the position of flag
+officer, the highest rank in our navy at that time. The years had been
+kind to the little cabin boy and his private inheritance had grown
+into a considerable fortune. He had already purchased Monticello, the
+home of his old idol, Thomas Jefferson, intending to preserve it as a
+national shrine, and had presented a statue of the author of our
+Declaration of Independence to the nation's Hall of Fame. Now he felt
+that there was but one cause to which he cared to devote his wealth;
+he sought an interview with President Lincoln and placed his entire
+private fortune at the nation's disposal.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, his boyhood friend, Ned Allison, now crippled with
+rheumatism but with a laugh as hearty and boyish as of old, visited
+his former <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>master. He found Uriah Levy grown frail and listless, the
+fires of his youth beginning to burn low as he neared his seventieth
+year. To be sure the commodore tried to rouse himself, asking after
+Ned's children, and even laughing feebly at the latter's account of
+his youngest grandson, "named Uriah Levy Allison, after you, sir," who
+now toddled along the beach where the two boys had searched among the
+pebbles so long ago.</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't know we'd live to see two wars, did we, sir," mused
+Allison, "when we were just lads playing before my father's shack.
+Well, even if we're past our prime now, they can't say we didn't do
+our part back in 1812," and he chuckled a little in his pride.</p>
+
+<p>But Levy's eyes were sad. "We have lived a little too long, Allison,"
+he said, gravely but without bitterness. "When this war broke out I
+tried to help once more. But my offer of my entire fortune&mdash;and it was
+little enough to offer my country&mdash;has been refused, although I am
+allowed to subscribe to the war loan. Yet money means so little in a
+time like this. Whenever I hear the call for volunteers, I am like the
+old war horse that is turned out to grass. I am an old man now, nearly
+seventy, and must sit at home by the fire. But it hurts a little,
+Allison; it hurts a little."</p>
+
+<p>For a while there was silence between them. When Allison rose to go,
+Levy followed him to the door, stopping a moment at the drawer of his
+desk to wrap a small package which he thrust into his old friend's
+hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>"'Tis for the boy, my name-sake," he explained. "The money will buy
+him some toy&mdash;maybe a small vessel to sail when the tide is low&mdash;and
+the other&mdash;," he laughed a little confusedly. "I found the trifle
+among some old keepsakes and papers the other day when I put my
+affairs in order. Give it to the boy and tell him of the day we found
+it. And come again soon, Allison, and talk over old times."</p>
+
+<p>Out in the street, Ned Allison removed the wrappings from the little
+package. It contained a gold piece and a lucky stone with a bit of
+soiled string still fastened through one of the holes.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_PRINCESS" id="THE_PRINCESS"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THE PRINCESS OF PHILADELPHIA<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Story of Rebecca Gratz and Washington Irving.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The spring rain fell on the roof with a gentle murmur, tinkling
+merrily as though it were pleased to hear the happy laughter of the
+children playing in the garret of Michael Gratz's house in
+Philadelphia. Six children romped there that Saturday afternoon in
+early springtime, away back in the year 1712, Rebecca Gratz, her
+younger brothers and sister and the one guest she had invited to her
+eleventh birthday party, Matilda Hoffman, a girl about her own age,
+whose fair long braids formed a striking contrast to Rebecca's dusky
+curls.</p>
+
+<p>Just now the merriment was at its height for Rebecca, aided by
+Matilda, was setting the table, while nine-year-old Rachel tried to
+amuse baby Benjamin who was making violent efforts to nibble at the
+trimmings of the birthday cake. Joseph and Jacob, fine sturdy fellows
+of seven and six, had found a pair of fencing foils in one of the old
+trunks in the corner and were engaged in a lively duel, displaying
+such recklessness that had their mother seen them she would have
+confiscated the weapons without delay. Perhaps Rebecca would have
+stopped this dangerous play had she not been too busy with the
+banquet-table&mdash;really a board placed upon two barrels and covered with
+a gay red scarf Rachel had found with the fencing foils.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>"It does look nice," she admitted, viewing her efforts with her head
+on one side as Matilda poured out the last glass of gooseberry wine
+and set it in its place. "Only," with a little sigh, "I do wish my
+birthday hadn't come today so we could have had candles instead of
+those wax roses on the cake."</p>
+
+<p>"Why couldn't you?" Matilda asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't right for people to light birthday candles on <i>Shabbas</i>,"
+explained Rachel. "Jewish people, I mean," she qualified as she tied a
+napkin around Benjamin's fat neck and deposited him in a seat at the
+table furtherest from the birthday cake. "But it's different for you
+'cause you're not Jewish."</p>
+
+<p>"It's queer people are all different and go to different churches,"
+puzzled Matilda. "My mamma says&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But no one ever heard her mother's opinion on the subject, for Joseph
+and Jacob on seeing Rebecca take her place at the head of the table
+raced to their seats with howls like hungry Indians at dinner time.
+For a few minutes the children's noisy tongues were hushed as the
+little hostess passed out sandwiches and jelly tarts. But when all the
+plates were empty to the last crumb and only the birthday cake
+remained in solitary splendor, just beyond the reach of Benjamin's
+greedy fingers, Joseph remarked with a satisfied sigh:</p>
+
+<p>"This was just like one of those king's dinners in the fairy books.
+Like the banquet Esther gave the king at Purim."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was Purim again," observed Jacob, who, seeing that the
+pitcher was empty, began to wish that he had drunk his second glass of
+gooseberry <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>wine a little more slowly. "Don't you remember last Purim,
+Becky, how you wore mother's old black silk and played you were Queen
+Esther? But Joe and Hyman took all the good parts and wouldn't let me
+be a king or anything."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't have to wait till Purim to dress up and play king and
+queen," Rebecca told him, her brows knit in her effort to divide the
+pink and white cake into six slices of equal thickness. "As soon as
+we've finished our cake, we'll look through those old trunks over
+there. There're ever so many dresses and things from Austria and an
+Indian blanket and beads and such things and I know mother wouldn't
+care if we played with them as long as we put 'em all back again."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph sprang up, his piece of frosted cake in his hand. "I want the
+Indian stuff," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll shoot you with my gun," challenged Jacob, pushing Rachel
+away from the trunk. "You're so slow, Rachel, we'll never get anything
+out."</p>
+
+<p>The other children followed, all but little Benjamin. Benjamin was
+still too young to be interested in the game of "dressing up." So he
+toddled about the deserted table, picking stray crumbs from the plates
+and turning over the empty glasses in the hope of finding a few drops
+of gooseberry wine.</p>
+
+<p>Strange, isn't it, that no matter how long it takes to get ready for
+breakfast, the slowest boy or girl can button himself into a
+make-believe outfit in the twinkling of an eye. In an incredibly short
+time, the five youngsters were dressed, each to satisfy his own
+peculiar taste: Joseph as an Indian in blanket and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>beads, with a
+crimson band about his head; Jacob, carrying a sword, wore a
+moth-eaten smoking jacket, a bright sash and crimson Turkish turban;
+Rachel and Matilda were two dainty ladies in full skirts of blue and
+pink, with deep bonnets; while Rebecca was rather splendid in a yellow
+silk wrapper, a long veil fastened about her head with a string of
+pearl beads she had found in the treasure trunk. Laughing merrily,
+they all raced to the long mirror which stood at the other end of the
+garret; though cracked and discolored they were able to distinguish
+the gaily clad figures within its mottled depths, more like the quaint
+images of an old tapestry than happy, romping children at play. Then
+they scattered to their own games, the boys to stage an exciting
+battle between a red skin and a gallant soldier, the little girls to
+comfort Benjamin, who, having cleared the table, began to howl
+dismally that he wanted to get "dwessed, too!"</p>
+
+<p>Laughing at his earnestness, the girls dressed him in a bright
+dressing gown striped in red and yellow, even providing him with a
+cane "for a gun like brother's." Then, the boys having grown tired of
+their Indian warfare, the entire company began a gay game of blind
+man's buff which ended somewhat abruptly as it was easy to tell at a
+touch just who was "caught" by the peculiar costume he wore.</p>
+
+<p>"Ball&mdash;play ball," suggested little Benjamin, wandering from the open
+trunk, a small crystal ball in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Joseph, taking it curiously, "a paper weight
+or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>"I know," cried Matilda, as she examined the crystal globe. "My aunt
+has one just like it&mdash;she got it from London. You do crystal gazing in
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Crystal gazing?" Rebecca was frankly puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She showed me how to do it. You just sit with the ball in front
+of you and look into it for a long time and don't think of anything
+else and all of a sudden you see pictures; that's what aunt said."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of pictures?" Joseph demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Pictures of what's going to happen. You see just what you're going to
+do when you grow up."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe that nonsense," declared Rebecca, with an emphatic
+shake of her dark curls. "Father says it's all foolishness&mdash;like
+believing what a gypsy fortune-teller promises you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's try it, anyhow," suggested Rachel. "It won't do any harm
+and it'll give us something to do till the rain's over and we can go
+out and play again."</p>
+
+<p>The crystal ball placed upon the table, the five dark and the one
+flaxen head bent over it eagerly. "But we'll never see anything this
+way," corrected Matilda. "It's Rebecca's party, so let her have the
+ball first. No one else must look or say a single word till she's seen
+her picture."</p>
+
+<p>Cheeks flushed with excitement, shining dark eyes fastened upon the
+crystal, Rebecca sat motionless, scarcely daring to breathe as she
+waited for the picture of her future to appear in the glass. The
+others clustered about her, expectant and silent. At last she shook
+her head and pushed the ball aside. "I can't see a single thing," she
+complained.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>"But I want to try it," declared Jacob, reaching for the crystal. "Now
+all keep quiet and maybe I'll see something, even if Becky couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>Again patient waiting until Jacob got up in disgust. "It's a silly
+game," he jeered. "Maybe your aunt could see things in an old glass
+ball, but nobody else can."</p>
+
+<p>"It's more fun just playing 'pretend'," declared his sister Rachel.
+"Let's do it." She flung herself upon an old fur rug near the window,
+pulling Benjamin down beside her. "We'll just sit in a circle and
+pretend we've looked in the glass ball and it told us just what we
+were going to do when we grow up. I want to tell my fortune first,"
+she ended importantly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a silly girl game," objected Jacob; but, tired of romping, he,
+too, threw himself upon the rug and waited with the rest of the circle
+for Rachel to disclose her future.</p>
+
+<p>"When I'm grown up," began Rachel very slowly, her eyes fixed on the
+trees beyond the window, dripping with rain, "I'm going to be very
+beautiful like Miss Franks in New York used to be, and go to parties
+and balls every single night and have all the officers in the army
+writing poetry about me and making toasts for me, just as she did. And
+I'll always wear pink silk," she concluded, with a glance at her rosy
+ruffles.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you'd get awfully tired of balls every night,"
+observed Matilda. "I'd much rather be like my governess. She isn't
+pretty at all but she knows just everything and she writes verses,
+too. When I grow up, I'm going to write a whole book <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>and everybody
+will say how smart I am." She spoke very seriously and the others
+looked at their ambitious little friend respectfully. Happy children
+as they were, they could not read the future and see that Matilda
+Hoffman, although one of the most accomplished young women of her
+time, would never write the wonderful book of which she dreamed. Nor
+could they guess that instead her lovely life would be an inspiration
+to a writer whose books every American would come to know and cherish.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm going 'way west to the lands father's just bought," declared
+Jacob, "and live with the Indians and wear a blanket and go hunting
+all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm going with you," piped Benjamin, not understanding what the
+game was about, but determined not to lose any of the fun. Though
+something of that afternoon's pretending came to pass for him, for
+when a man he actually sought what was then the far western territory
+of Kentucky and became one of the leading citizens of Lexington.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm going to be a merchant like father," Joseph spoke with his
+usual grave determination, never dreaming of the day when he would
+become a senator. "And what are you going to do, Becky?"</p>
+
+<p>Rebecca considered for a moment. Although older than the others, this
+child's play was very fascinating to her. "The other day," she said
+slowly, "I had the legend of St. Elizabeth for my French lesson. I
+think I'd like to be just like her when I grow up."</p>
+
+<p>"Was she beautiful and everything like that?" asked Rachel.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>"I suppose so." Rebecca's voice had grown rather dreamy. "The ladies
+in stories always are beautiful, aren't they? But I liked her because
+she went about doing good among the poor peasants, even if her mean
+husband wanted her to stay at home."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he ever find out?" asked Jacob.</p>
+
+<p>"Once he thought he did." Rebecca smiled at the recollection. "She was
+going through the castle courtyard with a basket on her arm and some
+one told him she was taking bread to the poor people. He was very
+angry and ran after her and asked her what was underneath the napkin
+on her basket. You can just imagine how frightened she was!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did she tell him?" Matilda wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose she was so frightened she just didn't know she was telling
+a lie," Rebecca excused her heroine, "and before she knew what she was
+saying, she told her husband that she was carrying roses. And it was
+in the middle of the winter, too! And when he snatched the napkin off
+the basket&mdash;" the story teller paused impressively, "what do you
+suppose he found there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bread," chorused her listeners.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" Rebecca shook her curls. "Because she was so good, God saved her
+from telling a lie and her basket was filled with beautiful red roses.
+And when her husband saw how much God thought of her, he became good,
+too, and tried to help Elizabeth care for all the poor people in the
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"She must have been very rich to help so many poor people," observed
+Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she was a real princess and I guess all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>princesses have plenty
+of money," answered his sister easily.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can be just like her, if you want to," the admiring Matilda
+assured her. "Your papa's one of the richest men in Philadelphia, I
+guess, and you're beautiful like Elizabeth and with that long veil and
+those pearls you look just like a real princess this minute, doesn't
+she, Rachel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's play the princess in the tower?" cried Joseph, springing up,
+already weary of the game. "Becky, you get on top of that trunk and
+we'll put chairs around it and play it's a high tower and Jacob and I
+will be princes and come and rescue you and take you away on our
+horses&mdash;the way they did in the fairy book you read us the other day."</p>
+
+<p>"But what'll we be?" cried Rachel and Matilda together.</p>
+
+<p>"You can be her ladies-in-waiting or something," Joseph decided, "and
+Benjamin can be our page and hold our horses while we climb into the
+tower." He straddled one of the fencing foils and pranced across the
+room. "A rescue!" he called shrilly to his brothers, "a rescue for the
+lovely Princess Rebecca."</p>
+
+<p>Hyman Gratz, Rebecca's sixteen-year-old brother, entering the room at
+that moment, smiled at their sport. Swinging Benjamin to his shoulder
+he advanced toward the tower which sheltered the three lovely ladies
+and pulled Rebecca's face down to his for a kiss. "Having a happy
+birthday?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Just splendid." Rebecca's eyes danced with happiness. "We're playing
+the princess in the tower and I'm the princess."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>Hyman, his face suddenly grave, looked over the happy, dancing figures
+in their fantastic dresses. Although he did not know why, he wished at
+that moment that the children playing in the old attic need never grow
+up, but might always be carefree and laughing in their idle games. His
+eyes lingered longest on Rebecca, such a dainty little princess in her
+yellow silk and pearls and he sighted a little. But all he said was:
+"If I were you youngsters, I'd play in the garden. The rain's all over
+and there's a fine rainbow just behind the old chestnut tree."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;" />
+
+<p>Washington Irving sat crouched in one of the great arm chairs of the
+drawing room in Mr. Gratz's house in Philadelphia. His elbow on his
+knee, he sat with his hand shading his face, his eyes seeking the
+floor. When Rebecca Gratz entered the room, he seemed about to rise,
+but with a gesture she urged him to remain seated and took a chair
+beside him. For a long time they sat there in silence, Rebecca's hands
+twisting a small package that lay in her lap, her face pale and tired,
+her dark eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting there with the soft candle light falling upon her simple blue
+dress and white arms, she made a picture which young Irving would have
+appreciated at any other moment. The slim little princess of the
+nursery had grown into a graceful young girl of gracious, yet
+dignified bearing, her abundant hair brushed simply back from her
+forehead, the gravity of her sweet face increased by the earnestness
+that never left <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>her large dark eyes, even when she smiled. For even
+in her gayest moments there was always a hint of gentle gravity about
+Rebecca Gratz; tonight, when utterly exhausted from watching at the
+deathbed of her childhood friend, Matilda Hoffman, she looked like a
+beautiful graven image of Sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>At last Rebecca spoke, her low voice tremulous with tears: "The end
+was very easy&mdash;God was good to her at the last. And I do not think she
+suffered much lately. Matilda just seemed to fade away, not like one
+ill, but very tired. She often spoke of you when we were together;
+that is why I asked brother Hyman to send for you. I thought you would
+like to hear it all from me."</p>
+
+<p>The young man in the arm chair shifted a little. "Yes, I would like to
+hear everything from you," he answered, not trusting himself to meet
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Simply, tenderly, Rebecca told young Irving of the last illness of the
+young girl whom he had hoped to marry. Now and then her voice broke,
+for she had loved Matilda Hoffman dearly; but she went bravely on
+until the end, when she placed the little package in Irving's hand.
+"She said I was to give you this," she told him, and looked away while
+he opened the cord with fingers that trembled a little.</p>
+
+<p>The tokens that Washington Irving now gazed upon with tear-dimmed eyes
+and which were never to leave his possession during all the years when
+he was to acquire fame and wealth as America's leading author were a
+little prayer book and Bible. Between the pages of the latter the dead
+girl had placed a lock of her bright hair; as he raised the worn
+little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>book several faded rose leaves fell upon the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"I pressed one of the roses from her coffin for you," Rebecca told
+him. "I did not think it would fade so soon."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence between them, then, the two books pressed
+again his cheek, the young man burst into a fit of passionate weeping.
+"It was not right," he cried fiercely. "She was so good and beautiful
+and young. And we would have been so happy together. It was not right
+that she should die."</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;I loved her, too," said Rebecca gently.</p>
+
+<p>He turned upon her almost angrily. "You can never know. I was her
+lover; you were only her friend."</p>
+
+<p>"'The heart knoweth its own bitterness'," quoted the girl softly.</p>
+
+<p>But Irving impatiently shook off the pitying hand she had dropped upon
+his arm, "What do you know of sorrow?" he demanded. "You have
+everything your heart can desire; wealth, youth, beauty, friends&mdash;I
+have no one."</p>
+
+<p>"And with all my gifts I am more unhappy than you," Rebecca persisted.
+"For I have not even the memory of a happy friendship and love like
+yours to bring me comfort now."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Irving forgot his own grief. "I do not understand," he
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled sadly. "You will not repeat this, I know," she told him
+quietly. "Only my own family know, but you have been such a close
+friend of my brother's that my secret is safe with you. I have
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>loved&mdash;and been loved&mdash;by a young man who was all my parents could
+desire for me. But last month he went away and I shall never see him
+again."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time that evening Irving's eyes met hers. The girl's
+glance was sad but very brave. "I do not understand," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Again she smiled sadly. "You know how liberal my family have always
+been in their religious opinions. We have always mingled freely with
+non-Jews; Matilda, although not a Jewess, was my dearest friend. In
+fact, a number of my relatives have married outside our faith." She
+broke off a moment. "The young man was not a Jew," she said slowly.
+"He loved his religion as well as I did mine. It was very hard to have
+him go away." She leaned toward Washington Irving and lightly touched
+the two little books she had given him. "You have lost your joy, too,"
+she said, and now her clear tones trembled a little. "Neither of us
+can ever be very happy again. We will both be so lonely sometimes,
+that I think we must learn to be very good friends, don't you?" And
+Irving pressed her hand in silence.</p>
+
+<p>It was a more portly Irving, the Irving with the bright eyes and
+kindly smile which we have learned to associate with the author of
+"Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," that waited for
+Rebecca Gratz in the drawing room of her father's home about ten years
+later. Since the death of Matilda Hoffman, he had grown to be a very
+close friend of the Gratz family, never failing when in Philadelphia
+to visit their home where he might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>"roost," as he put it, in the
+large, comfortable guest room. He had never referred to his intimate
+conversation with Rebecca when she had tried to comfort him after
+Matilda's death; yet their mutual grief and confidence had created a
+strong bond between them, and when Irving returned from an extended
+trip abroad, he welcomed the opportunity of going to Philadelphia to
+see his latest book through the press. For he longed to visit Miss
+Gratz, who, so the home letters had informed him, had grown to be a
+famous beauty and belle during his absence.</p>
+
+<p>She came into the room with her swaying, graceful carriage of old
+days, but with a new dignity and reserve of manner, carrying her
+lovely head with just a little more pride than in her girlhood,
+greeting Irving, for all her warm friendliness, like a young queen
+graciously ready to accept homage from her subjects. She sank into a
+low chair beside the fire, the flames casting a warm glow over her
+arms and neck from which her gold colored scarf had slipped at her
+entrance. Irving thought of another night ten years ago when she had
+sat in that very chair with the candle light falling upon her blue
+draperies. Then she had been a lovely girl just on the threshold of
+life; now she was a cultured, well-poised woman of the world, crowned
+by virtue of her beauty and position as the ruler of the society in
+which she moved. He sighed a little and suddenly felt that he was
+growing old. For a while they spoke of what had occurred during
+Irving's absence from America, the countries the young author had
+visited, the great men he had met on his travels. Finally he told her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>of his visit to Sir Walter Scott, "days of solid enchantment," he
+described them, from the moment when the famous author had limped down
+to the gate of his estate in Scotland to welcome him, his favorite
+stag hound leaping about him, as he grasped his guest's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"We spent much of our time in long rambles over the hills," Irving
+continued, "Scott telling me legends of the countryside as only he
+could tell them. And in the evenings we would sit like medieval barons
+before the blazing logs in the great dim hall at Abbotsford and there
+would be more stories and confidences until long after midnight. Ah,
+Rebecca, it was worth a trip across the Atlantic, just to touch his
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned toward him, her eyes sparkling. "How I would like to know
+him&mdash;not only his books, which I love so much, but the real man in his
+home," she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Irving smiled mysteriously. "You may not know him, but he knows you
+well, my lady. I told him of my American friends, your brother Hyman
+among them, and, surely, I could not omit you, another heroine to hang
+in his gallery of fair ladies of romance."</p>
+
+<p>Rebecca shook her head, smilingly. "But I am not a heroine nor a lady
+of romance," she protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Scott seemed to think you were," Irving insisted. "I told him of your
+beauty, your goodness&mdash;well, you can't deny them," as she raised a
+protesting hand, "and your loyalty to your people. He had not finished
+his novel, 'Rob Roy,' then, but he told me he was eager to write a new
+romance, with the adventures of a lovely Jewess named Rebecca to form
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>silver thread of the story. He has written me from time to time,"
+went on Irving, as Rebecca smiled a little incredulously, "to tell me
+how the work progressed. Much of the romance was dictated when Scott
+lay on a couch too ill to write. He tells me that his two secretaries
+grew to love the heroine, Rebecca, as much as he did, and that once
+one of them grew so impatient to hear what became of her, that he
+looked up from his manuscript and cried: 'That is fine, Mr. Scott&mdash;get
+on&mdash;get on!'"</p>
+
+<p>"And did Mr. Scott finally 'get on' and finish his book with a Jewish
+heroine?" laughed Rebecca.</p>
+
+<p>Irving reached toward the table and handed her a package he had placed
+there. She broke the string curiously, a slow flush mounting her cheek
+as she saw the volume, the first to be read by an American, but now in
+every library in the land. "'Ivanhoe'," she read the tide, softly,
+"but, surely, I am not in the story."</p>
+
+<p>"He sent me this letter with the volume," answered Irving, drawing a
+sheet of folded taper from between the pages. "I brought it with me
+because I knew it would interest you."</p>
+
+<p>And Rebecca, flushing over one of the most beautiful compliments ever
+paid an American girl, read: "How do you like my Rebecca? Does the
+Rebecca I have pictured compare well with the pattern given?" She
+folded the paper and slipped it back between the pages. "But, surely,
+I am not in the story," she repeated. "I am not a lady of romance, not
+a real princess since the days little Matilda and Rachel and I used to
+dress up and pretend we lived in a fairy tale."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>Irving's merry eyes softened at mention of their dead friend. Then:
+"You are more like a lady of romance than any woman I have ever
+known," he declared stoutly, "and I have met some of the greatest
+ladies of all Europe. But none of them seemed half so much a queen as
+you. No, I am not flattering you, Rebecca. Hasn't your brother written
+me of all your triumphs in society, here in Philadelphia, when he took
+you to Saratoga Springs, when you visited your brother in Lexington
+and were treated like a real princess by everyone who met you from
+Henry Clay down to the negro slaves?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that&mdash;" Rebecca shrugged a little disdainfully. "I hope the Lady
+Rebecca in 'Ivanhoe' does something worth while."</p>
+
+<p>"She heals the sick and comforts the suffering; she is a great lady in
+the real sense of the word; lady, a loaf-giver," answered Irving.
+"Just as you are," he concluded, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"What else is there for me to do?" said Rebecca. "I shall never build
+a home of my own or have little ones to love and care for. So I am
+glad to use my wealth and leisure in building other homes, in being
+something of a mother to the little orphans of our city."</p>
+
+<p>"No matter whether they are Jew or Gentile," added Washington Irving
+who had heard much of her many charities.</p>
+
+<p>"We have all one Father," she reminded him, gently. "But, really, I do
+not do half that I would. I am not a St. Elizabeth and no miracles are
+wrought for me," and she smiled a little at her childish <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>admiration
+of the generous lady. "So I am half afraid to read what you have
+brought me," indicating the volume, "for I know I shall be found
+wanting when I am cast in the scale with the lovely Lady Rebecca."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! She is all that a princess in romance should be, but I
+prefer our own Princess of Philadelphia," answered Washington Irving,
+gallantly.</p>
+
+<p>The Princess of Philadelphia, as the great author often called her,
+half in jest, half in earnest, lived to be very old, surviving many
+members of her family, and the brilliant circle over which she had
+long reigned as a queen. But she was not too lonely; the young girls
+whom she guided as an older sister, the orphan children who found in
+her a second mother, countless unfortunates, some of them needing
+gold, others a word of hope and comfort, became her subjects and
+enthroned her in their grateful hearts. Her life, after all, was a
+placid one. Unlike the Rebecca of the romance, she never experienced
+thrilling adventures; no duels were fought in her names; no gallant
+knights sought to save her from her enemies. Yet even when her
+marvellous beauty faded and her glossy hair became threaded with gray,
+she remained as youthful as any princess in a fairy tale, for she
+never grew old at heart. And little children, divining the youth in
+her soul, always felt that she was one of them.</p>
+
+<p>It happened one day that Rebecca Gratz visited the Hebrew School she
+had founded in Philadelphia, the forerunner of our modern Jewish
+Sabbath School and the first institution of its kind in America. She
+had not only donated large sums of money for its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>support, but had
+helped to select and plan text books for the students, even writing
+some of the daily prayers to be used by the little Jewish children of
+her native city. It was her birthday&mdash;the seventy-fifth&mdash;and as the
+gentle-faced old lady passed down the quiet corridors, she thought
+half-tenderly, half-sadly of the birthday party in the garret so many
+years ago. What silly things children dream! she thought with a smile.
+Matilda had written no wise books and her adventure-loving brother had
+never lived with the Indians. For herself&mdash;well, she was not really a
+princess as Matilda had declared she ought to be, but like the
+Princess Elizabeth she had been allowed to go about doing good among
+the people.</p>
+
+<p>A sound of stiffled sobbing reached her ear. Turning, she saw a little
+girl curled up in one of the low window sills, an open book on her
+lap. Rebecca Gratz hurried to her and slipped a comforting arm about
+the shaking shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what is the matter?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The child raised a wet face. "Oh, it's you, Miss Gratz," she
+exclaimed. "I know I'm just as silly, but I can't help it. I came to
+the sad part of the book where they want to burn 'Rebecca' for a witch
+and I just couldn't help crying. Though I know it's going to come out
+all right in the end," she added, wiping her eyes, "'cause story books
+always do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, story books do, even if real people's stories don't always end
+happily," agreed Miss Gratz, sitting beside her. "Do you like the
+book, Helen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever so much, Miss Gratz. Miss Cohen, my teacher, lent it to me. And
+what do you suppose she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>said?" She hesitated a moment, then,
+encouraged by the kind eyes looking down into hers, added bashfully:
+"Miss Cohen said, 'You ought to enjoy 'Ivanhoe,' Helen, because a
+great many people think the character of Rebecca was taken from our
+Miss Gratz.' Is that really true?" she ended, shyly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gratz laughed as gayly as a child. "I mustn't tell," she teased.
+"Only it doesn't seem likely, does it? The Rebecca in the story wears
+pearls and veils every day and is imprisoned in a dungeon and goes to
+the tournament. While I am just a plain old lady in a bonnet and shawl
+and never do anything more exciting than visit your Hebrew classes. So
+it's not likely Rebecca in the story and I are the same person, is
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>Helen considered a moment, her eyes fastened upon Miss Gratz's face.
+When she spoke it was in a tone of deep conviction. "Maybe Miss Cohen
+wasn't exactly right," she admitted, "but even if you're not a real
+princess, and all that, you're just as sweet and good as Rebecca in
+the story book, anyhow."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_PRESENT" id="A_PRESENT"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>A PRESENT FOR MR. LINCOLN<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>How President Lincoln Set Out for Washington and How He Returned.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Little Morris Rosenfelt stirred uneasily on the hard bench as he tried
+in vain to concentrate his wandering thoughts on his Hebrew lesson. It
+happened to be all about the building of the Tabernacle in the
+wilderness, but Morris was not at all interested in Bezalel, the
+artist of old, who built the first sanctuary for his people. Instead,
+although his eyes were fastened to the coarse black characters in the
+page before him, the boy was living over again the scene that had
+passed in the parlor of his father's house, the night before.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Abraham Kohn, city clerk of Chicago, had dropped in to talk over
+congregational matters with Morris's father, for Mr. Kohn was one of
+the early presidents of <i>Kehilath Anshe Ma'arav</i>, Chicago's first
+synagogue, and one of its most active members. Morris, busy in the
+next room with his lessons for the next day, had paid scant attention
+to their conversation, until the words, "Mr. Lincoln," and "flag"
+caught his ear. Then he closed his geography with a slam, for like
+every other nine-year-old boy of his day, he had heard much of the
+"rail splitter from Illinois," as his opponents called him, and shared
+his state's enthusiasm for the man who had just been elected
+president.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>"I'm glad we Jews did our part in electing him," said Mr. Kohn. "He
+will make a strong president in these uncertain times; perhaps, the
+only man who can keep this country out of civil war if the southern
+states attempt to secede."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll not fight, especially as Mr. Lincoln has promised not to
+interfere with slavery in the states where it now exists," Mr.
+Rosenfelt answered easily. He was a stout, cheerful man who refused to
+borrow trouble, very unlike Morris's mother who always saw sorrow and
+accident for her family hovering in the near future. "With a strong
+man like Mr. Lincoln in Washington, we can stop worrying for a while."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so." Mr. Kohn's voice was a little doubtful. "I hate to
+predict trouble, but I do believe that our candidate is going to have
+a harder row to plough than any president we ever had since
+Washington. I was thinking of that when I had the verses printed on
+the flag I am going to send him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, are you going to send Mr. Lincoln a flag?" cried Morris,
+forgetting he was not supposed to be listening.</p>
+
+<p>His father shook his head and ordered the boy to attend to his
+lessons. "His reports are worse every month," he told Mr. Kohn. "Rabbi
+Adler tells me he is a good boy, but that doesn't raise his marks in
+Hebrew and arithmetic and history, and his mother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't like history about dead people," objected the boy. "Now
+Mr. Lincoln's alive&mdash;and he's history, too, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"The boy's right," laughed Mr. Kohn. "Come <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>in here, Morris, if your
+father'll let you, and I'll tell you all about the flag I'm sending
+Mr. Lincoln next week before he leaves his home in Springfield for
+Washington." Morris, needing no second invitation, gladly deserted his
+books and slipped into the parlor, curling up in one corner of the
+horsehair sofa as he attempted to be as little in the way as possible.
+For he didn't want his mother, should she happen to come into the
+room, to send him back to his lessons again.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a large American flag," explained Mr. Kohn, "woven of the
+finest silk. And across it I've had inscribed in Hebrew the command
+given to Joshua when he took command of the Israelites after the death
+of Moses." He turned to Morris, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "I
+suppose you can tell your father what that was," he said, very
+seriously. "What?" as Morris, really embarrassed, shook his head. "I
+thought you really learned more in Rabbi Adler's school. Suppose you
+get your Bible and show us how well you can translate the passage."</p>
+
+<p>Doubtful of his skill as translator, but sure that kindly Mr. Kohn who
+had been one of the early cantors of the congregation and "knew
+everything about Hebrew" would lend him a hand at the hard places,
+Morris turned to the first chapter of Joshua, and, with a little
+prompting translated the command given to the Jewish leader:</p>
+
+<p>"Have I not commanded thee?" he read. "Be strong and of good courage;
+be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with
+thee whithersoever thou goest." He looked up, his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>boyish spirit
+thrilled with the words. "I like that," he exclaimed naively, "it's
+so&mdash;so&mdash;alive&mdash;not a bit like the Bible."</p>
+
+<p>"So that's what's written on your flag?" commented Mr. Rosenfelt.
+"Well, no matter what happens, I guess we won't have to worry over our
+Mr. Lincoln. He'll be 'strong and of good courage,' alright, and make
+us glad we sent him on to Washington. Morris, go into the dining room
+now and study your lessons. Are you going to take the flag to Mr.
+Lincoln yourself before he leaves Springfield?" he asked, turning back
+to Mr. Kohn, as Morris unwillingly went back to his lessons for the
+next morning.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I can't leave my work just now," answered Mr. Kohn, who was city
+clerk. "But I'm sending it with a friend who will be in Springfield
+before Mr. Lincoln leaves. I want him to have a real going-away
+present to tell him what the Jews of Illinois think of their new
+president."</p>
+
+<p>Then the talk drifted to other matters, but Morris went to bed his
+heart filled with envy for the man who should take the flag to Mr.
+Lincoln. He knew that there wasn't the slightest chance for him to go
+to Springfield; his mother would remember all the dreadful stories she
+had ever heard of little boys being kidnapped while taking railway
+journeys alone; his father would tell him he couldn't spare the money
+for such a trip and that Morris couldn't afford to lose a day of
+school. Then, if he couldn't go to Springfield, it would be almost as
+good to send a present to Mr. Lincoln such as Mr. Kohn <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>planned to
+do&mdash;but what could a little boy with a limited amount of pocket money
+send a man just elected to be president of the United States. He even
+crept out of bed very stealthily, not caring to arouse his
+ever-wakeful mother in the next room&mdash;to look over the treasures in
+the top drawer of his little dresser; the finest stamp collection ever
+possessed by any boy who attended his school, he thought proudly; a
+box of shells and lucky stones gathered on the lake shore last
+vacation; a prize book given him at school for perfect attendance,
+which Morris never cared to read, as it seemed to be the tale of a
+very good little boy who always stood at the head of his class and
+never disobeyed his parents; a set of fishing tackle discarded by his
+older brother, Harry. Treasures, though they were, Morris would have
+sent any or all of them with Mr. Kohn's flag as a going-away gift to
+the new president, already enshrined in so many hearts; but, boy
+though he was, he knew that a grown up man would not care for his poor
+presents. He even lifted his little blue bank and rattled it softly;
+but he did not take the trouble to pry it open, for he knew that for
+all its jingling, the pennies inside would not amount up to more than
+a dollar. Disappointed, yet determined not to let Mr. Kohn outdo him
+in the matter, Morris crept back to bed.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning he found his plans for Mr. Lincoln's present far more
+fascinating than his lessons as he sat in the basement schoolroom
+provided for the children of the congregation. One of the school's
+non-Jewish teachers had heard his history and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>geography. In a little
+while Rabbi Adler would take the classes in Hebrew and German. Morris
+knew he ought to prepare the lessons so shamefully neglected the night
+before, but he found it difficult to put his mind on his task.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately for him, he wasn't called upon during the Hebrew session
+and managed to escape a scolding for his lack of preparation. So he
+sat sedately with his eyes glued upon the thick black characters,
+while his mind pictured the flag with the Hebrew lettering which was
+to be sent to Springfield. He had seen a good many pictures of Mr.
+Lincoln and now he tried to imagine how the kindly, homely face would
+break into a smile at Mr. Kohn's thoughtfulness. Then he roused
+himself to listen, for now the rabbi was saying something about the
+lesson that really interested him.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Rabbi Adler, "the Sanctuary Bezalel built in the
+desert wasn't half so beautiful as the Temple we afterwards raised at
+Jerusalem. But we were willing to wait. It was always that way with
+our people&mdash;with every nation, too; we must wait for what is worth
+while and if we wait long enough and work while we are waiting, we
+will finally achieve what we have been striving for." He paused for a
+moment, closing his book, as he looked over the class. "Has anyone a
+question to ask about the lesson?" he ended, in his usual way.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly thinking what he did, Morris shot his hand up in the air, then
+wished with all his heart that he had not raised it, when the rabbi
+said: "Well, Morris, what's your question?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>"It's not exactly about the lesson," confessed the boy, awkwardly.
+"But when you talked about waiting for something for a long time, I
+wondered&mdash;I&mdash;how long is a person president of the United States?" he
+ended desperately, realizing how foolish his question must sound not
+only to the teacher but to his fellow students as well.</p>
+
+<p>If Rabbi Adler failed to see any connection between the building of
+the Sanctuary and American politics, he was too kind to say so. "The
+president is elected for four years," he answered, "although sometimes
+he is reelected for a second term, which makes eight years in all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Mr. Lincoln'll be in Washington eight years, 'cause everybody
+will want him for two terms," decided Morris, loyally, though a little
+disappointed that the plan which had just occurred to him must take so
+long to mature.</p>
+
+<p>"So you're a Lincoln man, too?" smiled his teacher. He hesitated a
+moment, then, feeling that high civic ideals were as necessary to his
+class as Hebrew, he went on: "We who have worked hard to elect Mr.
+Lincoln feel that our country is in good hands. He is not one of our
+people, yet I believe he is more like our Hebrew prophets than any
+man, Jew or non-Jew, living today. None of you boys may ever be
+president, but if you strive as earnestly as Mr. Lincoln has always
+done to serve the right, I shall be well satisfied.... We will take
+the next chapter for tomorrow," and the lesson was over.</p>
+
+<p>Next came the German class and Morris, after reading and translating
+his portion of a German fairy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>tale quite creditably, sank back in his
+place, again busy with his plans. Rabbi Adler was right, he decided.
+If one just worked and waited, everything would turn out all right. So
+Mr. Lincoln would be gone for four years, perhaps eight. Well, since a
+Jewish gentleman had sent him a going-away present, wouldn't it be a
+fine thing for a Jewish boy to send him some gift when he returned to
+his home in Springfield? Morris wasn't sure just what the gift would
+be, but he was no longer worried. Even four years were not long to
+wait, especially if one had to save a good deal of money in the
+interval. For Morris was sure that he would have to send a really
+expensive present; perhaps a gold watch, which at that particular
+moment was the one thing, next to a Shetland pony, he most desired for
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The four years passed for Morris, now slowly when lessons were long
+and hard, now all too swiftly during the holiday seasons. They were
+years of struggle for the nation now torn asunder by a dreadful civil
+war. Even from the first, Morris was not too young to understand the
+history that was being made about him; the firing upon Fort Sumter;
+the secession of the southern states; Mr. Lincoln's call for
+volunteers. How he despised himself for being such a small boy when he
+saw his brother Harry in his blue uniform with the brass buttons! He
+couldn't understand why his mother had cried when Harry went away to
+be a soldier, since he himself felt cruelly cheated in being deprived
+of marching off to the battle field. Nor could he understand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>why
+Rabbi Adler's voice always faltered now when he read the <i>Kaddish</i>
+prayer for the mourners every Sabbath in the synagogue, although he
+had heard that his teacher's young son, Dankmar, serving in the
+artillery, was wounded at the battle of Chickamauga. For war to the
+little boy meant nothing but lines of straight soldiers marching to
+music with flying banners above them, and even when bits of crape
+appeared, so it seemed, upon the doors of every other home in the
+city, he thought only of the glory, not the horror of it all. Nor did
+he ever imagine how President Lincoln's great heart almost broke in
+those days over the suffering not only of his own Northern soldiers,
+but the Southern boys too, whom he would never call "rebels" nor cease
+to regard but as brother Americans. When the boy thought of the
+president at all, it was always as the captain of a mighty host,
+pressing fearlessly on to victory. "Like Joshua," he thought,
+remembering the verses on the flag, resolving that when victory did
+come at last he would celebrate in his own way, by sending Mr. Lincoln
+his present.</p>
+
+<p>"We can't do too much for Mr. Lincoln," his brother Harry had said
+when he came home on a furlough, so tanned and sturdy that even Mrs.
+Rosenfelt had to confess that his soldiering had not broken down his
+health. And Morris's heart had reechoed the sentiment again and again,
+especially when Harry was taken to one of the Washington hospitals and
+wrote glowingly of the president's visits to the sick and wounded
+soldiers. "He's not like a president&mdash;he's just like a father," he
+wrote, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>and more than one bereaved household in those dark days
+learned to agree with him.</p>
+
+<p>For the sadly-tried man from Illinois was never too busy with affairs
+of state to write a word of comfort to a mother who had lost her son
+on the battlefield, never too harassed with his many duties to listen
+to a plea for a furlough or a pardon. But, perhaps, of all the stories
+that reached Morris at that time the account of Mr. Abraham Jonas of
+Peoria meant the most.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jonas was a Jewish citizen of Peoria, Illinois, and had been a
+staunch friend and political associate of Lincoln before the latter
+left Springfield for the White House. Strangely enough, Mr. Jonas's
+four sons all enlisted in the Southern army. Towards the close of the
+war, Abraham Jonas fell ill, and, learning from his doctors that his
+disease would prove fatal, felt that he could never die in peace until
+he had seen his son Charles, then a Confederate prisoner of war on
+Johnson's Island, Lake Erie. The dying father appealed to his old
+friend, and President Lincoln at once gave the order to parole Charles
+Jonas for three weeks that he might visit his father's bedside.</p>
+
+<p>"After that," admitted Mrs. Rosenfelt, wiping her eyes as she heard
+the story from a Chicago friend of the Jonas family, "after that, I'll
+forgive the president everything!" She never explained just why she
+should feel called upon to forgive President Lincoln for anything, but
+up to that time the good lady had entertained the notion that the
+president had made the war and was entirely responsible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>for her son's
+enlistment. "Things like that make you feel that there's good in
+everybody's heart even in war time. Anyhow, the war can't last much
+longer."</p>
+
+<p>The great war did end that very year and in the spring of 1865 Morris
+realized that at last he might send Mr. Lincoln his present. "Just for
+a sort of extra celebration," he told himself, as he counted the money
+he had so painfully hoarded in an old wallet during the four years of
+waiting.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a large sum after all, for Mr. Rosenfelt was not a rich man
+and his business interests had suffered during the war. And, it must
+be confessed, several times Morris had yielded to temptation and had
+broken into his little treasury to buy some toy or pleasure that he
+felt he just must have, intending to pay himself back as soon as he
+could earn the money. But chores were few and brought little, and even
+his uncle's <i>barmitzvah</i> present of five dollars failed to raise the
+sum above fifteen. Still that was a good deal, thought Morris,
+although he couldn't buy a gold watch with it. But he had grown up a
+little during the past four years and realized that probably Mr.
+Lincoln had a gold watch, anyhow. And so, much as he hated to do it,
+for he wanted the secret to be all his own, he decided to ask his
+father's advice and waited impatiently for him to come in from the
+porch, where he stood talking with a neighbor, and have breakfast the
+Saturday morning after peace was declared.</p>
+
+<p>Although he was only a boy of thirteen at the time, Morris never
+forgot how the parlor looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>that day with the flag draped over
+Harry's picture taken in uniform, the pale sunshine of early spring
+streaming upon the bright red geranium plant on the marble-topped
+table. There was a large tidy on the table, a doily his mother had
+crotched, his mother who started up with a cry of alarm as Mr.
+Rosenfelt entered, his face white with terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry&mdash;&mdash;" was all she could say for a moment. Then, when she could
+control her voice a little: "Has anything happened to our Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>Her husband shook his head. "No," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone
+that contrasted strangely with his dreadful pallor. "Harry, thank God,
+is safe and will soon be on his way home. But President Lincoln&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" cried Mrs. Rosenfelt, "the president?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was shot last evening by an assassin. He has just died," answered
+her husband, and he spoke as one speaks of a dear friend.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be true," cried Morris, hotly. "No one would hurt him&mdash;he
+was so good&mdash;we all loved him so." The tears ran down his face as he
+spoke and for once he was not ashamed to have his father see him cry.
+Without another word he turned and ran upstairs to his own room. The
+little blue bank still standing upon the dresser hurt him with a
+sudden memory. He was comparatively rich now, but he hated the fifteen
+dollars he had saved with so much eagerness through the years of
+patient waiting.</p>
+
+<p>The money, still unspent, lay in Morris's wallet the day Mr. Lincoln
+came home to Springfield. The humble rail splitter had returned to his
+home town <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>in kingly triumph. As his funeral train crossed the
+continent, every great city, every tiny village, crape-hung and
+grief-stricken, had sent its citizens to do him homage. Even the
+farmers from the scattered farms along the way lit funeral pyres as
+the dark procession thundered past through the night. Now the citizens
+of Chicago stood bowed in grief as the body of the martyred president
+was borne through the silent streets. Strong men wept openly and
+unashamed; but Morris, standing at his father's side on the curbing,
+did not cry. Somehow, it all seemed too terrible for tears. And,
+because he was just a small boy, after all not the least of his grief
+was the thought that now it was too late to send Mr. Lincoln his
+present.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="THE_LAND" id="THE_LAND"></a><hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span><br />
+
+<h3>THE LAND COLUMBUS FOUND<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3>
+
+<h3><i>The Story of the Tablet Placed Upon the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.</i></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>This isn't a story at all, just a sort of "good-bye" word to the boys
+and girls who have read these tales of Jewish men and women who tried
+to do their part in the making of America. Do you remember away back
+to the first one, the story of the Jews who from Columbus's flag ship
+dreamed of the promised land, but never knew that the continent their
+admiral discovered would some day be a place of refuge for their race?
+Now, every year, thousands of men and women and children, a great many
+of our own people among them, seek a refuge here. If you go to Ellis
+Island, you may see them entering this New World where they hope to
+find home and happiness. I have seen them with their baskets and their
+bundles of household goods, their little children in their arms, (do
+you remember how Reuben wandered through the storm carrying his little
+son?), crossing the gang plank of the steamer which brings them to the
+island, raising their tired eyes in mute gratitude to the American
+flag which floats above them as they pass. And from where I stood I
+could also see the great Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, the
+woman with the light in her hand to guide the weary wanderers across
+the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>If you visit this statue, boys and girls, you will see at the base a
+bronze tablet with a short poem engraved upon it. The poem was written
+by a Jewish woman, Emma Lazarus, our first and greatest Jewish
+American poet. As a girl she had cared little for the history and
+traditions of her people; her verses were about the gods of Greece and
+Rome and the legends of the Middle Ages. Then, when the dreadful
+persecution of our people in Russia in 1881 drove many of them to our
+shores, she was called upon to assist in caring for some of the
+homeless wanderers and, like a loving mother, she gathered them to her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Something new and beautiful awoke in her soul and she gave her
+strength and energy in caring for these exiles of her own blood. When
+she wrote now it was of her people. She read our long and wonderful
+history and immortalized the heroism of our martyrs in such poems as
+her tragedy, "The Dance to Death." She wrote shorter verses, too, and
+there are few Jewish boys and girls who have not recited or at least
+heard her stirring Chanukkah recitations, "The Feast of Lights," and
+"The Banner of the Jew." Her poems had always been very beautiful,
+winning the praises of such a high critic as Ralph Waldo Emerson, but
+now they glowed with a new beauty, her love and new found kinship with
+her race.</p>
+
+<p>It was her passionate love for America and her knowledge of all that
+our country means to the Jew, both the native-born and the persecuted
+wanderer from other lands, that made her see in the Statue <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>of Liberty
+more than a mere mass of sculptured stone. Instead she saw a gracious,
+loving woman guarding the gates of the New World, not like the ancient
+giant figure striding the harbor at Rhodes, a haughty menace to the
+nations, but a symbol of welcome and freedom and justice to all
+mankind. So she wrote her verses, to be inscribed later at the
+statue's base, telling as only a great poet could what America means
+to her children.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With conquering limbs astride from land to land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glows world-wide welcome: her mild eyes command<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<div class="tr">
+<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical errors corrected in text:</p>
+<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;29: &nbsp;her's replaced with hers<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;31: &nbsp;her's replaced with hers<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;58: &nbsp;earings replaced with earrings<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;63: &nbsp;Pharoah replaced with Pharaoh<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;71: &nbsp;'For if your are discovered' replaced with 'For if you are discovered'<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;76: &nbsp;'Your are to grow weaker' replaced with 'You are to grow weaker'<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;77: &nbsp;'wrists and angles' replaced with 'wrists and ankles'<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;78: &nbsp;abuot replaced with about<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;89: &nbsp;Hussiel replaced with Hushiel (twice)<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;91: &nbsp;Hussiel replaced with Hushiel<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;92: &nbsp;hosts's replaced with hosts'<br />
+Page &nbsp;&nbsp;93: &nbsp;persade replaced with persuade<br />
+Page 102: &nbsp;Hushel replaced with Hushiel<br />
+Page 119: &nbsp;earings replaced with earrings<br />
+Page 123: &nbsp;pears replaced with pearls<br />
+Page 144: &nbsp;wainted replaced with waited<br />
+Page 151: &nbsp;'love like your's' replaced with 'love like yours'<br />
+Page 152: &nbsp;'Irving's eyes met her's' replaced with 'Irving's eyes met hers'<br />
+Page 154: &nbsp;befor replaced with before<br />
+Page 159: &nbsp;her's replaced with hers<br />
+
+<div class="block2">
+<p class="noin"><span class="sc">Note</span> that the printers' error on page 32, which starts
+with "Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half- he
+told her, gently." has been left as is. Every copy of
+the story consulted has the same error.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW LAND***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,5077 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The New Land, by Elma Ehrlich Levinger
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The New Land
+       Stories of Jews Who Had a Part in the Making of Our Country
+
+
+Author: Elma Ehrlich Levinger
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 8, 2007  [eBook #22915]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW LAND***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Lybarger, Jeannie Howse, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+    | Transcriber's Note:                                       |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has     |
+    | been preserved.                                           |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For     |
+    | a complete list, please see the end of this document.     |
+    |                                                           |
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW LAND
+
+Stories of Jews Who Had a Part in the Making of Our Country
+
+by
+
+ELMA EHRLICH LEVINGER
+
+
+       "A new world, with great portals far outflung,
+       Holding a hope more sweet than time had sung,
+       To which the Jew, of life's high quest a part,
+       A pilgrim came, the Torah in his heart.
+       A land of promise, and fulfillment too;
+       Where on a sudden olden dreams came true....
+       Here grew we part of an ennobled state,
+       Gave and won honor, sat among the great,
+       And saw unfolding to our 'raptured view
+       The day long prayed for by the patient Jew."
+
+             _From "The Jew in America," by Felix N. Gerson_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York
+Bloch Publishing Company
+"The Jewish Book Concern"
+1920
+
+Copyright, 1920, by
+Bloch Publishing Company
+
+
+
+
+                                TO
+              _Grandmother and Grandfather Levinger_
+               THESE "STORIES THAT REALLY HAPPENED"
+                   ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
+
+
+
+
+A LETTER TO MY READERS.
+
+
+_Dear Boys and Girls_:
+
+When your grandfather tells you a story, do you ever interrupt him to
+ask: "But is it all true?" And doesn't he often answer: "I don't
+know," or "I don't know when it's really true, and when it begins to
+be like a story book." And so, when you read through my little
+book--if you do read right through it to the very last page--you may
+wonder whether all my history stories really happened.
+
+Yes--and no! I do know that cross old Peter Stuyvesant of New
+Amsterdam hated our people, but I never found any record of the Jewish
+boy who wanted to play with the governor's niece, pretty Katrina. The
+histories tell us how gallant young Franks became the friend of George
+Washington, but none of them mention that the Jewish soldier saved a
+Tory from the angry mob.
+
+You understand now, don't you? So I'm going to turn the page right
+away that you may read for yourselves of the three Jews who whispered
+together on the deck of the "Santa Maria," as Columbus and his crew
+crossed the Sea of Darkness in search of a New Land.
+
+                                                      E.E.L.
+
+    NOTE: The author expresses her thanks to the editors of _The
+    Hebrew Standard_ and _The Jewish Child_ in which the stories,
+    "In the Night Watches" and "A Place of Refuge," originally
+    appeared.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+IN THE NIGHT WATCHES                                                 9
+     _The Three who came with Columbus._
+
+WHEN KATRINA LOST HER WAY                                           14
+     _A tale of the First Jewish Settlers of New Amsterdam._
+
+A PLACE OF REFUGE                                                   33
+     _How the Wanderer came to Rhode Island._
+
+"DOWN WITH KING GEORGE"                                             39
+     _How Isaac Franks, of the American army, first heard the
+     Declaration of Independence._
+
+THE LAST SERVICE                                                    52
+     _The story of a Rabbi who lived in New York when it was
+     captured by the British in 1776._
+
+THE GENEROUS GIVER                                                  68
+     _The story of a Jewish money-lender of the Revolution._
+
+ACROSS THE WATERS                                                   88
+     _A story of the City of Refuge planned by Mordecai Noah._
+
+THREE AT GRACE                                                     105
+     _The story of the first Jewish settler in Alabama._
+
+THE LUCKY STONE                                                    122
+     _The adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the first naval
+     officer of his day._
+
+THE PRINCESS OF PHILADELPHIA                                       140
+     _The story of Rebecca Gratz and Washington Irving._
+
+A PRESENT FOR MR. LINCOLN                                          160
+     _How President Lincoln set out for Washington and how he
+     returned._
+
+THE LAND COLUMBUS FOUND                                            173
+     _The story of the tablet placed upon the Statue of
+     Liberty in New York Harbor._
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW LAND
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT WATCHES
+
+_The Three Who Came With Columbus._
+
+
+For a while there was no sound save the soft swish-swish of the waves
+as the "Santa Maria," the flagship of Columbus, ploughed its way
+through the darkness. The moon had long since disappeared and one by
+one the stars had left the sky until only the morning star remained to
+guide Alonzo de la Calle, crouching above his pilot wheel. The man's
+eyes ached for sleep, his fingers were numb from dampness and fatigue,
+his heart heavy with despair. "Dawn," he muttered at last, "almost the
+last of the night watches; Gonzalo will take my place at the wheel and
+I can sleep."
+
+In the shifting light of the ship's lantern, swinging from the mast
+above his head, the pilot saw Bernal, the ship's doctor, advancing
+toward him; a little dark man, who dragged one foot as he walked. He
+would have passed without speaking; but Alonzo, hungry for
+companionship, caught his arm.
+
+"You are in high favor with Columbus," he began, "and he confides in
+you. Tell me, is he still determined to go on if the next few days do
+not bring us to land?"
+
+The ship's doctor nodded almost sullenly, yet there was pride in his
+voice when he spoke. "The admiral will not turn back. Not though the
+very boards of our three vessels mutiny and refuse him obedience. He
+will go on!"
+
+"It is madness. It is already seventy days since we left our fair land
+of Spain, and----"
+
+Bernal interrupted him with a mocking laugh. "'Our fair land of
+Spain'," he sneered, "is not the land of the Jew nor have we found it
+fair." But before he could speak further, the other clapped a warning
+hand over his mouth.
+
+"Hush!" exclaimed the little pilot, "Hush! We may be overheard, and,
+though our admiral is gentle to the sons of Israel, it might fare ill
+with us if the crew were to learn that there were 'secret Jews' on
+board. See, some one is coming----. Be silent," and he pointed to one
+who moved slowly toward them.
+
+But Bernal laughed. "It is only Luis de Torres, the interpreter, one
+of our own people. _Shalom Aleicha_," he addressed himself to the
+newcomer, who answered, "_Aleichem Shalom_," but softly, glancing over
+his shoulder as he did so.
+
+"Even in the midst of the Sea of Darkness you fear to use our holy
+tongue," taunted the physician. "We are no longer in Spain where the
+very walls of our houses had ears to hear our _Shema_ and tongues to
+betray us to the officers of the Inquisition when we failed to come to
+their cursed masses." His face twisted with rage as he pointed to his
+useless foot. "In Valencia I was denounced to the Inquisition,
+tortured almost unto death. But I escaped with my life; and now
+instead of spending my last days in peace in the land of my fathers I
+have come on this mad voyage across a sea without shore." He laughed
+harshly. "Yet even on these endless waves, I am safer than in the
+pleasant land of Spain."
+
+Luis de Torres, who had stood leaning over the vessel's side, turned
+toward the speaker, his sensitive face showing pale and grave in the
+light of the swaying lantern. "Ah, Bernal," he said sadly, "has not
+the whole world become a great sea of endless waves for the unhappy
+children of Israel?" He shuddered slightly and drew his rich cloak
+more tightly about him. "I am a strong man; but I sicken and grow
+faint when I think of the tens of thousands of our brethren we saw
+scourged from the land of Spain even as we embarked and our three
+vessels were about to leave the port."
+
+"Truly," Alonzo muttered, "truly, even a strong man may wish to forget
+what our eyes have seen. Night after night as I stand at my wheel I
+can see them, old men and little children and women with their babes.
+Where will they find rest?"
+
+"There is no rest for Israel." It was Bernal who spoke in his sullen
+passion. "'Twas the ninth of _Ab_ when our brethren were driven
+forth--the ninth of _Ab_; the day on which our Temple fell. Then we
+were scattered beneath the sky, but we thought at last that in the
+land of Spain we had found a refuge. But there is no refuge for
+Israel, no rest for Him until death."
+
+The sad eyes of Luis de Torres glowed with a strange light. "Nay,
+friend," he corrected gently, "the God of Israel will not forget His
+children forever. Who knows that this new route to India, of which the
+admiral dreams, may not lead us to a new land, an undiscovered place
+where no Jew will suffer for his faith. But, O God!" he cried with
+sudden pain, "We have waited so long, and still our people wander and
+are tossed to and fro, as we are tossed about by the waves of this
+unknown sea. Must each century bring its new _Tisha B'ab_, must we
+indeed suffer forever? Where is rest for us? What land will give us
+refuge?"
+
+He raised his face to the brightening sky, his hands tearing at the
+gold chain about his throat. No one spoke for a moment, nor even moved
+until Alonzo turned back to his wheel, his eyes bright with strange
+tears. A cry burst from him; a cry of unbelieving joy.
+
+"Land! Land!" and he pointed a trembling finger toward the misty
+outlines of palm trees, straight and slender beneath the early morning
+sky. Bernal echoed his cry with a great shout and in a moment, from
+every part of the ship, men came pouring, wide-eyed and unbelieving
+that they had crossed the Sea of Darkness at last. In their midst came
+a quiet man; a tall man with iron-gray hair and a firm mouth, who at
+first spoke no word, only gazed dumbly at the fulfillment of his
+dreams, stretching before him in the silvery light.
+
+"We have reached India," said Columbus at last.
+
+Those about him laughed shrilly in their joy or wept or prayed.
+Alonzo, his eyes snapping with excitement, wrenched his wheel with
+hands no longer tired, and Bernal, the sneer for once absent from his
+lips, gazed with tense face toward the palm trees.
+
+Only Luis de Torres stood apart, his face still convulsed from his
+passionate outburst of grief for his people. For, like the others, he
+could not know that instead of a new route to India a mighty continent
+had been discovered; nor did the unhappy dreamer dream that a very
+land of refuge and of hope for the wandering sons of Israel, lay
+before him across the smiling waters.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN KATRINA LOST HER WAY
+
+_A Tale of the First Jewish Settlers of New Amsterdam._
+
+
+The warm spring sunshine forced its way through the tiny
+diamond-shaped window panes to fall in a bright pool of light upon the
+table cloth and blue cups and bowls Mary Barsimon had brought with her
+from Holland. It was a pleasant room, shining with the exquisite
+neatness that characterized the dwelling of every Dutch housewife in
+New Amsterdam with the same simple, well-made furniture and bright
+hand-woven rugs. Yet it differed strikingly in two or three details
+from the other homes in the Dutch settlement; on the mantle-piece,
+above the blue-tiled fire-place, stood two brass candle-sticks for the
+Sabbath, while on the eastern wall hung a quaint wood-cut representing
+scenes from the Bible; Abraham sacrificing Isaac, Jacob dreaming of
+the ladder reaching up to heaven. This _Mizrach_, Samuel's father had
+once told him, hung upon the eastern wall of every good Jewish home,
+that at prayer all might be reminded to turn toward the east and face
+the site of the Temple at Jerusalem. For centuries the Temple had been
+in ruins and the children of those who had worshipped there scattered
+to the four corners of the earth. Jacob Barsimon himself had wandered
+from Spain to Holland, from Amsterdam to Jamaica, from Jamaica to the
+Dutch colony of New Amsterdam upon the Atlantic; yet in all his
+wanderings he had brought with him the old _Mizrach_; and he still
+taught his twelve-year-old son to pray with his face toward the land
+of his fathers.
+
+It was before this _Mizrach_ that Jacob Barsimon stood one early
+spring morning in the year 1655, when New Amsterdam was still free
+from the rule of the English who were to re-name the colony New York.
+He stared at it with unseeing eyes, frowning darkly, his long, slender
+hands plucking nervously at the buttons of his coat. Samuel, assisting
+the young colored slave girl in removing the breakfast dishes, glanced
+at his father from time to time a little nervously, although he could
+not recall any prank or misdeed on his part that might have angered
+him. But his mother, after watching her husband for a few moments from
+her low chair at the window where she sat dressing the chubby
+two-year-old Rebecca, broke the heavy silence by asking:
+
+"What is wrong, Jacob? What troubles you?"
+
+For a moment Jacob Barsimon said nothing, but frowned more darkly than
+ever. At last he spoke. "Have you forgotten that a month from tomorrow
+is Samuel's birthday--that he will be thirteen?"
+
+A tender smile played about the mother's mouth. "Surely, I remember
+the day he was born as well as though it were yesterday." She sighed a
+little, her hands busy with the buttons of the little girl's dress,
+her eyes gazing dreamily through the window. "We were still in
+Amsterdam, in dear old Holland, with our own people. Do you remember,
+Jacob, how on the day when he was made a 'Son of the Covenant,' your
+old uncle acted as godfather and all of our neighbors----"
+
+Jacob Barsimon interrupted her with a bitter laugh. "Neighbors! Yes,
+we had neighbors then, our own people, who were with us in joy and
+sorrow. But here, Jacob Aboaf and I are merely tolerated by the
+burghers. True, they allowed us to land when we came from Jamaica on
+the 'Pear Tree.' They have allowed me to trade with the Indies--as
+well they might, for even Peter Stuyvesant himself dare not say that
+we two Hebrews have ever been guilty of dishonesty in our trading
+ventures. But we are not at home here as we were in Holland or
+Jamaica; we are aliens and strangers and now comes this last insult to
+our people--to refuse them the right of residence here."
+
+Frau Barsimon nodded gravely. "Yes, I know well why your heart is so
+bitter with disappointment when you think that it is almost time for
+our Samuel's _barmitzvah_ and that save our neighbor, Jacob Aboaf,
+there may be none of our own people here to help us rejoice when
+Samuel becomes a 'Son of the Law.' And yet," she spoke cheerily
+enough, rocking the rosy baby upon her knee, "and yet, who knows but
+that by next _Shabbath_ our Jewish friends will be granted the right
+of settling here? And if they are still here when Samuel's birthday
+comes," she nodded brightly to the wondering boy who had remained near
+the table, drinking in every word, "you will have a _minyan_ (ten men
+required for a Jewish ceremony) to hear you recite your _barmitzvah_
+speech and eat the feast I shall prepare for them." She sprang up
+suddenly, the baby tucked under one arm as she began to pile dishes
+with her free hand, scolding the slave girl as energetically as she
+worked for not having the table cleared. For if Frau Barsimon ever
+allowed herself the luxury of a moment's rest or gossip, she never
+failed to regain lost time by working twice as hard--and noisily--as
+soon as she took hold again.
+
+"Father," asked Samuel, forgetting the cakes and ale of his
+_barmitzvah_ party for a moment, "just why won't they let the Jews who
+came from South America last fall live in New Amsterdam like the rest
+of us? In Holland the Dutch were always kind to our people and in the
+Indies they allowed you to trade in peace."
+
+Barsimon did not answer until the slow-handed, sharp-eared little
+slave girl had followed his wife into the kitchen. When he spoke his
+voice was tinged with a harsh bitterness. "Wiser men than you have
+asked that question, my boy, and no one has yet found an answer. True,
+Holland and those lands ruled by the Dutch have been places of refuge
+for us. No wonder that the poor souls who left Brazil in the 'St.
+Catarina' hoped to receive honorable treatment here at the hands of
+the burghers. It may be that they fear the rivalry of our brethren in
+trade, if more of us be allowed to take up residence in New Amsterdam.
+And perhaps," he spoke with a sort of grudging honesty, "perhaps, one
+can scarcely blame the worthy burghers for mistrusting the newcomers
+and refusing to grant them welcome. They were unfortunate enough to
+have been robbed at Jamaica where they rested on their journey; when
+they reached here there was the disgrace of an auction in which their
+goods were sold to pay for their passage, and two of the passengers,
+David Israel and Moses Ambrosius, were held for security. You remember
+how a law suit was brought against them by Jacques de la Motthe,
+master of the vessel, for this same passage money; and although the
+matter is now settled, some of our honest citizens are not ready to
+welcome strangers who they believe are little better than vagabonds
+and paupers."
+
+"But, father," protested the boy, "a goodly number out of the
+twenty-seven who came on the 'St. Catarina' last autumn have received
+gold from their brethren in Holland. All except the very poorest one.
+And I heard mother telling Frau Aboaf that you could ill afford giving
+all you did to help the poor widow on board the 'St. Catarina'
+and----"
+
+"Jacob Aboaf and I have done but little,"--half-growled Barsimon, as
+though ashamed of the charity he was always ready to do by stealth.
+"And they were our brethren." He became silent again, striding to the
+window and scowling out into the bright spring sunshine. At last: "But
+perhaps we have managed to serve them with our pens as well as gold.
+Jacob Aboaf and I, with a few of our good Dutch townsmen, have written
+to the directors of the Dutch West India Company in Amsterdam, praying
+that these Jews, now forbidden lodging here, be allowed the rights and
+privileges, of all good citizens. The directors should listen to our
+plea, for a large amount of the company's capital comes from Jewish
+purses. We might have heard favorably from them long ago had it not
+been for the stubborn hatred of Governor Stuyvesant, whose letters
+have poisoned their minds against us."
+
+"But we have never harmed Governor Stuyvesant," observed Samuel, "so
+why should his hand be against us?"
+
+Jacob Barsimon laughed grimly, lowering his voice as he answered, for
+he was a cautious man and did not care to risk having his words
+carried through the town by the little slave girl Minna, now
+clattering the breakfast dishes as she moved about the kitchen. "Does
+Peter Stuyvesant ever need a reason for his follies?" he asked dryly.
+"His head is as hard as his wooden leg and never a new idea has
+pierced his brain since the day he was born. He hates our people with
+as much reason as our black Minna fears witches and the evil eye. It
+is said that he has written to the directors at Amsterdam, begging
+that none of the Jewish nation be permitted to infest New Netherlands.
+He has used those very words in public places; infest the colony and
+be like a plague of hungry locusts. Perhaps he really believes the
+evil things he says of our brethren. Even eyes as shrewd as his may be
+blinded by hate. And one can understand his bitterness, his hardness
+of heart toward all mankind. His post here is not easy, harrassed by
+the savages on our borders, the Swedes, even the English, who have
+already cast covetous eyes upon this rich port. While his private
+life--" the man's stern face grew rather tender--"has not been very
+happy. It is said that he left a half-sister in Holland, the one
+creature he ever loved or who knew his kindlier side. A few months ago
+her husband died and she dared the voyage with her little daughter
+that they might make their home with the governor. But the vessel was
+lost at sea and she was drowned. Only a sailor or two and several
+passengers survived and one of them brought the little girl to Peter
+Stuyvesant."
+
+"I heard Minna tell of her," interrupted Samuel. "She says that once
+she helped the governor's cook carry the Sunday dinner home from
+market and she saw little Katrina playing on the great stairway of
+Peter Stuyvesant's house. Minna says she has long golden curls and her
+eyes are blue--blue as the little flowers that grow near the Wall
+every spring. I wonder we never see her, father!"
+
+Barsimon sat down on the low settle beside the window and lighted his
+long pipe, puffing thoughtfully and gazing into the smoke as he spoke.
+"I would not have you repeat this, son, for it may be but idle gossip.
+But it is reported that since her mother's death the child has become
+the idol of the governor's hard, old heart. He is filled with foolish
+fears that he may lose her as cruelly as he lost her mother before
+her. He scarcely ever permits her to stir abroad and then only when
+she is followed by one of his faithful black slaves." He arose with
+his characteristic abruptness, and walking to the chest of drawers
+across from the fire-place, changed his black silken skull cap to the
+broad-brimmed hat of his Dutch neighbors. "Forget what I have said,"
+he told his son, briefly. "We live here only on sufferance and must
+guard our tongues. But you are a good lad and I know I need never
+regret having confided in you. And now study your _barmitzvah_
+portion. Even if the folk from the 'St. Catarina' are deported before
+your birthday and there is no _minyan_ here and we can have no real
+feast in your honor, I would have you do your sainted grandfather
+credit and please your mother who has waited so long for the day when
+you should be old enough to be considered a man among our people." For
+a moment his hand lay kindly upon the boy's shoulder; then, with a
+shrug as though to shake off any foolish tenderness for the son he
+loved so dearly, he passed out of the house.
+
+Samuel watched him from the window until his stolid, heavy-set figure
+disappeared down the winding road. Then, finding his portion in the
+Hebrew book which his father treasured so highly in those days when
+printed Hebrew books were still a rarity, he sank down on the settle
+and tried to concentrate on the task which his father had left for
+him. But more than once his dark eyes glanced from the heavy Hebrew
+characters to the pleasant scene that lay beyond the window; a scene
+one would never associate with crowded, bustling New York of our own
+day; the low, comfortable looking houses of the Dutch burghers,
+nestling under the great trees; the well-scoured windows blinking like
+so many sleepy eyes in the warm spring sunshine. It was a day for
+dreaming and adventure, not for study.
+
+For a little while the boy sat with his head resting upon the low
+window sill, his young mind busy with half-formed fancies, most of
+them circling about his talk with his father concerning the unhappy
+passengers of the 'St. Catarina.' Would the unfortunates be obliged to
+seek shelter elsewhere, or would they be allowed to dwell in New
+Amsterdam? If so, perhaps in time other Jewish families might come,
+bringing with them boys of his own age, among whom he might find a
+real playfellow. He sighed a little wistfully at the thought, for he
+had no close friends among the sturdy young Dutch lads of the
+neighborhood. Even a girl would be better than no one, he thought; not
+a mere baby like his little sister, but a girl old enough to play with
+him, to visit the Indians dwelling a little beyond the Wall, to wander
+with him to the other end of the settlement and stand upon the sea
+shore, searching for shells or lying upon the shining sands and
+weaving fantastic dream stories, too foolish for older and wiser folks
+to hear.
+
+The boy fell to dreaming now, sitting there in the warm sunshine, for
+he was a quiet, thoughtful lad, unaccustomed to playing with youths of
+his own age, given to day-dreams and fairy legends. Today, as he half
+reclined on the settle near the window, his busy young brain painted a
+picture so strange that even Samuel himself had to smile over it; for
+as he gazed through the window with half-closed lids, the dusty road
+and little Dutch houses faded away and he seemed to see a shining,
+white street with tall buildings on either side, and many, many
+people--more than he had ever seen in his life, even in Amsterdam
+across the seas--hurrying to and fro. He had heard his father say,
+nodding gravely over his pipe, that some day little New Amsterdam
+would be one of the greatest sea ports in the world. Jacob Aboaf had
+hooted at his friend's prophecy; but as he recalled it today, Samuel
+did not laugh. His day dream was very real to him, and when his mother
+came into the room she found him staring through the window with a
+strange smile about his mouth.
+
+Frau Barsimon was a busy woman, with no time for day-dreams and she
+was often annoyed (and secretly alarmed) at her son's tendency to
+wander off into a world of his own making. Now she shook him, but
+gently, and spoke with her usual briskness.
+
+"Samuel, Samuel, have you nothing better to do than sit nodding like
+an old spinning woman in the sunshine?"
+
+The boy started guiltily, indicating his open book with a shame-faced
+laugh. "Father told me to study--_barmitzvah_," he faltered.
+
+His mother shrugged goodnaturedly. Pious Jewess that she was, she was
+often inclined to quarrel with her husband who, she declared, was too
+fond of keeping the boy tied to his Hebrew lessons. "He needs a strong
+body now," she used to say when demanding an extra play-hour for
+Samuel. "When he is older and his head is less stuffed with dreaming
+it will be time enough to cram it with your learning. But first let
+him play out in the open air until he is tired and the fresh wind has
+blown all his nonsense away." She was thinking the same heresy that
+moment, but all she did was to smile goodhumoredly and pull the boy to
+his feet. "Out of doors with you," she commanded, gayly, "and I will
+speak to father. Take a walk--a long one, and when you come back you
+will be able to study without falling half-asleep over your book."
+
+Samuel needed no urging. A moment later he had kissed his mother
+good-bye, helped himself to a handful of sugar cookies from her blue
+crockery jar, and was whistling down the dusty road, feeling strangely
+anxious for some adventures; adventures as heroic as his father often
+related before the fire on winter evenings. His mother might have
+thrown up her hands in despair had she seen the dreamy look in his
+large eyes. True, he was no longer drowsing on the settle, but as he
+swung along under the soft spring sky, he saw himself the hero of a
+hundred fantastic tales--the captain of a trading-vessel bound for the
+Indies; the commander of a company of daring youths of his own age,
+all ready to resist the Indians when they should seek to fall upon New
+Amsterdam; again, a pirate with a plumed hat and a flashing sword. So,
+lost in dreaming, he wandered on down the quiet streets to the Wall
+which marked the boundary of the Settlement.
+
+Suddenly realizing that he was tired and hungry, Samuel threw himself
+upon the grass, and taking his cookies from his pocket, began to munch
+them contendedly, wondering just what heroic deed he should plan for
+his next undertaking. But in the middle of a bite he stopped short,
+sitting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes as though he had been asleep
+and feared he was still dreaming.
+
+There on the grass beside him sat a little girl, almost his own age he
+judged; a little girl with golden hair and eyes as blue as the flowers
+growing in the young grass about them. To the simple lad she seemed as
+richly dressed as a fairy princess, for her frock was of flowered
+silk, she wore silver buckles upon her little shoes, and her daintily
+flounced cap was fastened at either ear with a quaint medallion of
+beaten gold. Samuel took in all of these details slowly, half afraid
+to speak lest he should drive away the delicate little creature, who
+had risen from the grass and now stood poised for flight like a gaily
+tinted butterfly. Then she spoke, and he knew there was very little of
+the fairy about her and that she was almost as human as himself.
+
+"Boy," she said in unmistakable Dutch, pointing to the half-eaten cake
+in his hand, "boy, give me that. I am hungry." She spoke like one
+accustomed to instant obedience, taking the cake without a word of
+thanks and eating it prettily, her large blue eyes never leaving
+Samuel's wondering face. When nothing remained, she again held out her
+hand, with her pretty, imperious gesture. "More," said the little
+lady, and Samuel gave her his last cooky, wishing heartily that he had
+brought his mother's blue crockery jar along for the little lady's
+pleasure.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said humbly, "but I ate the others before I knew you
+were coming. They are good, aren't they? Does your mother ever bake
+sugar cakes?" he ended in a desperate attempt to make conversation.
+
+She shook her blond head. "My mother is dead," she told him. "She was
+drowned and I would have been drowned, too, but a brave sailor held me
+tight until he found a spar and he tied me to it and we floated and
+floated and floated until a big ship passed us and brought us here."
+She spoke between bites, very calmly, as though her tale, as thrilling
+as any of Samuel's dream adventures, was no uncommon story for a
+dainty little maid to tell on a spring morning.
+
+"Now I know who you are," Samuel exclaimed, forgetting his shyness in
+his delighted surprise. "Your name is Katrina and you live with the
+governor and your mother was lost at sea."
+
+Katrina, having finished her cooky, pensively picked up the few crumbs
+from her lap as though she were still hungry. "I live with Uncle
+Peter," she corrected. "He is very good to me and gives me pretty
+presents;--he gave me these on my birthday," and she touched the gold
+medallions upon her ears complacently. "Only he never lets me go out
+and play alone like the other little girls who sometimes visit me say
+they do, and I get tired of staying in the garden. And when I go out
+walking with old black Daniel behind me, it is just as hard as staying
+at home. I want little girls and boys to play with and take me
+places;--I get tired of my dolls," she ended wistfully.
+
+Samuel nodded with understanding sympathy. To have this little
+stranger maid listen to his stories or follow him on his lonely
+rambles! If he might even go to play with her sometimes in the garden
+behind Peter Stuyvesant's house. He frowned at the thought: it was not
+hard to picture the old governor falling into one of his rages at the
+insolence of the Jewish boy who dared to walk down the garden path.
+And yet what fun they would have had with every bush a mysterious
+fairy castle, every tree a pirate ship to take them across the Main.
+He sighed regretfully, turning to listen to his companion's bright
+chatter.
+
+"I suppose they're looking all over for me," she laughed
+mischievously, "cook and black Daniel and Uncle Peter, too. Won't he
+be cross! He was so cross this morning when he got a letter from
+Holland, a big letter with a big red seal, and he'll be crosser yet
+when I'm not home for dinner." She tossed her sunny curls defiantly.
+"But he won't dare to scold me; he'll scold everybody else and shake
+his cane at them, but he won't dare to be cross to me."
+
+"But I think you ought to go home," suggested Samuel. "It isn't right
+to worry your uncle so when he is so good to you and gives you such
+nice presents."
+
+She made a roguish little face. "I can't go home," she giggled,
+teasingly, "I've never been out alone and I lost my way almost as soon
+as I left the garden. So I'll just have to stay here all day until
+somebody from home comes and finds me." She sprang up, shaking out her
+silken skirts, dancing gayly in her little buckled shoes. "Come, boy,"
+she commanded imperiously, "Come and play with me." She fumbled in
+the pocket of her black satin apron and drew out a tiny worsted ball.
+"Let's play ball," she cried, "and then we'll run races and climb that
+tree over there and maybe you can tell me stories when I'm tired. My
+old nurse in Holland used to tell me brave tales, but I don't like
+those black Daniel tells--all about charms and goblins. Do you know
+any nice stories, boy?"
+
+"Yes, a few," admitted Samuel modestly. His cheeks, usually so pale,
+were flushed with excitement; the little playfellow of his dreams
+seemed to have come to life in the flower-strewn meadow. He caught the
+bright ball she tossed to him and laughed with pleasure. "You catch
+wrongly," he chided her, "but I like to play with you."
+
+The afternoon sped on golden wings. Perhaps neither of the children
+would have dreamed of the lateness of the hour had not Katrina
+interrupted Samuel in the middle of one of his glowing tales,
+exclaiming, "I'm hungry, now. I wonder what cook has for supper?"
+
+Samuel started. The story of the old sea captain he had been telling
+his new friend was very real to him; he could almost see the old,
+ancient, weather-beaten vessel, hear the waves beating on the shores
+of that distant island where the golden treasure lay hidden for so
+many years. Now his dream people faded away and he saw that the sun
+was setting and felt the air growing chill and damp about them. He
+rose a little wearily and helped Katrina to her feet.
+
+"We must go home," he said, gravely. "Perhaps we did wrong to stay so
+long, but it was fun to play together, wasn't it? And did you like my
+stories?"
+
+She nodded, bending to pick up the bouquet he had gathered for her
+earlier in the afternoon. "I like them as well as the tales my nursie
+used to tell," she commented, approvingly. "You'll show me the way
+home, won't you?"
+
+Hand in hand, they walked slowly back to the dusty street that led to
+the governor's house. At the gate, Samuel was about to bid his little
+friend good-bye, but she caught his hand and drew him in after her.
+"Oh, you must stay," she protested, "you must stay and let Uncle Peter
+thank you for bringing me home. And I want you to tell me another
+story after supper. You must come in!"
+
+"But my mother will be worried," declared Samuel, "and father----"
+
+"We'll have Daniel go and tell them you are here," she solved the
+problem easily. Then she ran up the broad stairs, crying gaily, "Oh,
+Uncle, I've had the loveliest time," as a short, stern-faced man
+appeared in the doorway; a man with a silver-banded wooden leg and
+leaning on a heavy cane.
+
+"Katrina!" he exclaimed with some sternness, but she pulled his hard
+face down to hers for a kiss.
+
+"I've had such a lovely time," she cooed, "and this nice boy found me
+and brought me home. Thank him, Uncle Peter, and have him come in and
+tell me some more stories."
+
+Samuel drew back; but the governor nodded for him to enter, and,
+feeling miserably shy and uncertain of himself, he followed the pair
+into the house. The room they entered was richly furnished, but
+gloomy. Samuel, boy that he was, felt how much lovelier his mother's
+simple living room was with its shining brass and the few plants
+blooming at the window. The governor sat down behind a long table
+littered with papers and drew Katrina to his knee, at the same time
+motioning Samuel to be seated. Then he spoke, stroking the child's
+golden curls, his keen eyes growing gentle as they rested upon her
+pretty face.
+
+"You have been of service to my little girl and I will do my best to
+reward you," said Governor Stuyvesant, kindly. "What will it be, my
+lad, a velvet suit brought over in the last cargo from Holland, or a
+golden chain?" Suddenly the eyes he turned upon Samuel grew cold and
+keen again. "You are not one of us, yet I have seen you before. Who is
+your father and what is his trade?"
+
+"I am Samuel, the son of Jacob Barsimon," answered Samuel, and
+suddenly all his shyness left him and he gazed fearlessly into the
+governor's face. "And my father is an honest merchant of New
+Amsterdam."
+
+"Yes--and of the tribe of Israel," muttered the old man, his brow
+darkening. "I wish my little one might have been indebted to another
+this day; but I am as honest a man as your father and what I promise,
+I keep. So name what reward you will for the favor you have rendered
+me--and be off."
+
+Samuel rose, his face flushing with anger at the man's insolence, yet
+glowing with a hope he hardly dared to utter even to himself. For the
+time had come, he believed, when he might play the hero, as he had
+done so many times before in his dreams. "I want no reward," he
+answered quietly, "but if you would render me favor for favor, I would
+ask you to withdraw the restriction you have placed upon my
+brethren--those Jews who sought these shores on the 'St. Catarina' and
+who desire to make their homes here."
+
+The governor smiled grimly. "A true Jew," he muttered, with a sort of
+grudging admiration for the boy's boldness, "ever ready with his
+bargain! But I have no longer the power to grant you or refuse you
+your request." He picked up from the table a long, bulky envelope,
+from which dangled a red seal. "This came this morning from Holland.
+Tomorrow I must tell the burghers that the gentlemen of the Board of
+Directors of the Dutch West India Company have over-ridden my
+suggestions; they write that I must admit these Jews, provided that
+the poor among them shall not become a burden to our community, as
+they at first seemed likely to be, but be supported by their own
+nation." Again his grim smile. "No fear of that, when even a boy like
+you thinks of his people before gifts for himself. I wish," he half
+mused, "I wish that we had at least that virtue of your stiff-necked
+race."
+
+Little Katrina, grown weary of all this, slipped from her uncle's
+knees and took Samuel's hand in hers. "Come into the garden," she
+commanded, "I want you to see my rose bushes and my new kittens and
+the swing, before supper."
+
+Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half-he told her, gently.
+
+Her eager face clouded. "Then you will come and play with me
+tomorrow?" she asked.
+
+Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half-defiantly,
+half-wistfully. "When your uncle sends for me, I will come," he said,
+and, bowing in a manner that would have delighted his careful mother,
+he left the room. Katrina was about to follow him, but her uncle
+called her back rather sternly.
+
+"Nay, do not pout, my pretty," he told her, "for I will try to find
+you a worthier playfellow than the son of a Jew trader."
+
+Samuel walked home slowly through the April twilight. In the harbor he
+could see the dim outlines of the 'St. Catarina,' which had in truth
+brought the Jewish wanderers to a home in New Amsterdam. But Samuel
+was not thinking of the wanderers who, after their months of weary
+waiting, could look toward the future with hopeful eyes; nor did he
+feel relieved that, since they were not to be deported, the newcomers
+would surely come to his _barmitzvah_ party. At that moment he thought
+only of the golden-curled fairy princess who would never romp and play
+with him again.
+
+
+
+
+A PLACE OF REFUGE
+
+_How the Wanderer Came to Rhode Island._
+
+
+It was bitter cold. The icy wind howling through the forest caught up
+the snow and whirled it in great eddies against the trees. Reuben
+Mendoza, staggering through the blinding snowflakes, hugged his little
+son Benjamin closer to his heart, and prayed desperately that the
+storm might cease or that he might soon come to a place of refuge. His
+own limbs were aching with fatigue and cold. He had eaten nothing
+since early morning and was faint with hunger. Wearied and heartsick,
+he would have been glad to lie down upon the ground, to sink into
+sleep, perhaps a painless death, with the snow drifting above him; but
+he knew that he must struggle on for the sake of the child he was
+warming in his bosom.
+
+Suddenly Benjamin, half asleep and numb with the cold, stirred a
+little and complained drowsily that he was hungry. His father paused
+for a moment and pressed his lean, bearded face against the child's
+rosy cheeks. "Be patient, little one," he comforted him, "for soon we
+shall find a lodging for the night. Surely, no one would turn even a
+Jew away in a storm like this."
+
+Again he plodded on, footsore and discouraged. The wind lashed him
+like a whip, and, when he raised his head, the snow cut across his
+forehead like stripes of fire. His lips moving almost mechanically in
+prayer, Reuben faltered through the storm, until at last utterly
+exhausted he stumbled to the ground. He tried to gain his feet again,
+for he thought he saw a light glimmering through the trees; but he was
+too tired to go farther. Why should he try to reach that light, he
+asked himself, as he dreamily stretched his tired limbs in the snow.
+But he felt little Benjamin moving beneath his cloak, and with one
+last effort he crawled through the drifts, clinging to the trees as he
+moved. A few moments later he found himself before a little shack. A
+single tallow candle shone through the window and cast a path of light
+before his weary feet. Reuben lurched forward against the door; it
+opened beneath his weight and he fell within the hut. He had a dim
+vision of two men bending over him; some one was taking little
+Benjamin from his arms; then the warm darkness wrapped him about like
+a cloak, and he knew nothing more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Reuben opened his eyes, he found that he was resting upon a couch
+of skins in one corner of the hut. It was a poor place; the walls were
+bare, and through their chinks snows drifted upon the frozen earthen
+floor. Beside the pallet there was no furniture in the room save a
+roughly hewn table and several chairs. Near the table sat two men, the
+one dressed in rich garments, a sword at his side; the other clothed
+in dull gray, with a broad white collar and a plain beaver hat. This
+man held little Benjamin on his knee and stroked his dark curls as
+the child drank greedily from the steaming cup which the kind-eyed
+stranger held to his lips.
+
+Reuben sat up among the skins and noticed in surprise that his hosts
+had removed his wet garments and replaced them with a long, warm cloak
+of bearskin. What manner of men were these, he asked himself, who
+treated a Jewish wanderer so kindly? As he advanced timidly toward the
+table, the man in gray turned to him and held out his hand.
+
+"_Shalom_," he said smiling.
+
+Reuben took his hand, astonished to hear the tongue of his fathers in
+the wilderness of the American forests. "_Shalom aleichem_," he
+faltered. "But you are not a Jew."
+
+The other shook his head and answered him in English, a language
+Reuben had learned from the trading Englishmen and adventurers he had
+met while in South America. "No, but I am a minister and have studied
+the Hebrew tongue. And I love its greeting of 'Peace.' Would that my
+people were lovers of peace, even as your's have been for so long."
+
+Benjamin ran to his father. "Father," he cried, "the good gentleman
+gave me warm milk to drink and bread to eat and this fine cloak to
+wear," and he proudly smoothed the robe wrapped about his chilled
+limbs.
+
+The man in gray motioned Reuben to sit beside the table and placed
+food and drink before him. Half-famished, Reuben ate and drank, almost
+fearing that it would disappear as a feast sometimes does in a dream.
+For surely he was dreaming: when in all his wretched wandering life,
+had people not of his own religion given him food and shelter and
+received him with gentle words?
+
+His host sat upon the couch, holding Benjamin upon his knee. Now and
+then he spoke to the dark, haughty man who sat watching everything
+lazily from beneath his half-closed lids. Twice he asked Reuben
+whether he desired more food or drink. At last when the guest had
+satisfied his hunger, the host asked him from what place he had come
+and to what spot he meant to journey when the storm was over.
+
+"I know not," answered the Jew. "My father's family was driven from
+Spain. They fled to Brazil, and later settled in Cayenne, where among
+our brethren from Holland we found a resting place until the French
+destroyed our homes and drove us forth to be wanderers on the face of
+the earth. When this child's mother died, I longed to go to a far
+country where I might forget my grief a little and begin life anew. So
+I took my son and came here with other voyagers to your colony of New
+Amsterdam. But there they gave me no welcome, because I was a
+Jew;--even in this new country some there are who hate the children of
+Jacob." He leaned forward, his thin face alight with a wistful hope.
+"But there they told me of a new colony in the far wilderness,--a
+colony where men of every race, of every creed, were welcome. Far off
+in the swamps and forests, they said, a man named Roger Williams had
+established a refuge for all those who were persecuted and despised,
+and had proclaimed that no man would be troubled there for the sake of
+his religion, that each inhabitant might worship the God of his
+fathers in peace. So I took my staff again and my burden upon my back
+and my little child within my arms, and set out for this place where
+my son might grow up a free man, and not be called upon to forsake the
+faith for which we suffered in Spain."
+
+The man in the velvet coat leaned across the table and spoke to Reuben
+in Spanish. "I, too, came from Spain," he said, "and I, too, came as a
+refugee; yea, with a price upon my head, for I had been denounced to
+the officers of the Inquisition and was doomed to die. Yet I am a good
+Catholic and loyal, and did not deserve their hatred. Those who are
+not of my faith in this new land mistrust and despise me; but here, in
+the colony of Rhode Island, I may follow the religion of my fathers,
+and Roger Williams has given me his hand in brotherhood."
+
+The quiet man rose and again held out his hand to the Jewish wanderer.
+"And now I give my hand to you," he said, heartily. "My colony of
+Rhode Island has need of men strong enough to die--yes, and to
+live--for the faith they will be allowed to follow here in peace and
+in safety."
+
+But Reuben had caught his hand and pressed it to his heart. "You are
+Roger Williams, the friend of the oppressed," he said brokenly.
+
+"Yes," answered Williams, "and this day have you found a refuge with
+me and my people." A look of solemn hope lighted his gentle eyes.
+"'Tis but a lonely spot in the wilderness, and we are few in number;
+but some day this wide land will be a refuge to the oppressed of every
+nation, and all those who are persecuted and despised will find a home
+within its borders."
+
+Little by little, the winds outside ceased to drive the snow against
+the trees; the branches no longer tossed and creaked in the gale; a
+great white hush seemed to bless the quiet earth. The Spaniard who had
+walked to the window blew out the taper and pointed toward the rosy
+clouds. "Dawn is breaking," he said softly, and, bowing reverently
+above his rosary, began to tell the beads as he recited his morning
+prayer. Williams took a large Bible from the shelf above the couch,
+opened it, and, having read his morning psalm, covered his face with
+his hands as he knelt beside his chair to pray. With a great joy
+warming his heart, Reuben, no longer a wanderer on the face of the
+earth, put his arm about his son, and drew him to the window that he
+might look upon the land that his children's children and those who
+came after them were to inherit as their home. Then he drew his faded,
+tattered _talith_ (shawl worn in prayer) from his pack, put it about
+his shoulders, and, facing the glowing east, the home land of his
+fathers, he praised the God of Israel who had brought him to this
+place of refuge. "_Ma tobu oholekha_" ("How goodly are thy tents"),
+prayed Reuben, and he sobbed like a child.
+
+
+
+
+"DOWN WITH KING GEORGE!"
+
+_How Isaac Franks, of the American Army, first heard the
+Declaration of Independence._
+
+
+The news had spread like wild-fire that day in early July, 1776.
+Although there was not one of the American recruits stationed in New
+York under General Washington's command who had not heard something of
+the great happenings in Philadelphia a few days before, every soldier
+felt his heart beat faster under his buff and blue coat at the thought
+that he, too, would hear the Declaration of Independence read before
+the army. They stood waiting in their ranks, the first army of the
+Republic: raw farmers like those who fell at Lexington, bronzed
+backwoodsmen whose rifles had brought more than one lurking red-skin
+or savage forest beast to earth, with here and there a student, fresh
+from his books, or a merchant who had left his desk to fight for his
+country. And today they were to hear, stated simply and eloquently for
+all time, for what principles they fought.
+
+In the ranks stood a slender, dark-browed boy of about seventeen. The
+muster roll gave his name as Isaac Franks, the simple record holding
+no promise of the day when the Jewish boy, a distinguished veteran of
+the Revolution, should entertain President Washington as his guest.
+Today young Franks stood undistinguished among the other eager
+patriots and the future president was only the leader of an army of
+untrained "rebels", knowing full well that a traitor's death awaited
+him if his campaign against the British proved unsuccessful.
+
+"I wish the general would come that we might hear the document and be
+dismissed," remarked Franks to the soldier who stood at his side; a
+tall, raw-boned youth about his own age. "This hot sun is enough to
+melt granite and we have been assembled for almost two hours."
+
+The other, also wearied and over-heated, looked him over with a sneer.
+"A fine soldier with your complaints!" was his jeering comment. "I
+wonder to see a Jew in our ranks, but you'll not cumber us long, I'm
+thinking. You Jews are fit only for trading and money lending--not
+fighting. You'll melt away quickly enough in the heat of your first
+battle."
+
+"Listen to me, Tim Durgan," retorted Franks, quietly enough, but with
+a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. "I've endured your sneering ever
+since I came to camp and I'm growing weary of it, too. I didn't know
+why you wouldn't be friends with me, when I've never done anything to
+offend you; but if it's because I'm a Jew--"
+
+"I want no Hebrew coward for a friend of mine," was the surly answer.
+
+"You can call me a coward as much as you like--I'll show you you're
+wrong when we face the redcoats. But you're not going to insult my
+people--understand?"
+
+Tim laughed contemptuously. "How are you going to stop me?" He looked
+down at Isaac who was a full head shorter than himself and of
+slighter build. "Going to fight me?"
+
+At that moment the long lines of buff and blue straightened as one man
+and a murmur of "the General" passed down the ranks. Franks, the angry
+flush slowly dying from his cheeks, straightened his shoulders and
+gazed straight ahead; but he was not too intent on the arrival of
+General Washington to fling a fierce aside to his tormentor: "That's
+just what I intend to do if you don't take it back--fight you until
+you do!"
+
+But a moment later all private hates and insults were forgotten as the
+boy looked toward the general, his soul in his eyes. Seated upon his
+great horse, the sun streaming upon his noble, powdered head and broad
+shoulders, the commander of the American Army looked what he later
+proved himself to be--an uncrowned king of men. A long, vibrating
+cheer rose from the soldiers' throats; then died away as Washington
+raised his hand for silence.
+
+The young officer who rode beside him unrolled a piece of paper he
+carried, and read in a loud, clear voice the words which today every
+school boy knows or should know by heart. But the boys and men,
+pledged to fight and die for their country, heard them for the first
+time that day and thrilled at the rolling sentences of the Declaration
+of Independence, which declared them free forever from the rule of the
+British tyrant, King George III.
+
+"We hold these truths to be self-evident," the noble words rang forth
+to the listening soldiers, "That all men are created equal; that they
+are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that
+among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." An
+answering thrill awoke in every heart. Isaac Franks felt his lashes
+wet with sudden tears. The son of a nation of exiles, Jews driven from
+land to land from the days the Romans ploughed the place where once
+their Temple stood, he could appreciate the blessings of a home land
+where even the despised Jew might know the meaning of equality and
+liberty and justice. Then he thought of the taunts of his comrade and
+his face hardened; but only for a moment was he depressed. In
+America--the land which had pledged itself to grant equal
+opportunities to all men--his was the opportunity to show what the Jew
+was worth. He would teach Tim and his fellows that the descendants of
+David and the Maccabees were soldiers worthy of their ancestors.
+
+Smiling a little grimly, he turned his face again toward the young
+officer and listened with stirring pulses to the charges brought
+against the British king; boy that he was, he realized that he and his
+companions were fighting not the English people, but a servile
+Parliament and an unworthy ruler who, according to the Declaration,
+was indeed a "tyrant unfit to be the ruler of a free people." How he
+wished that King George himself would cross the ocean to frighten the
+colonists into submission; he would much rather meet him in battle
+than any of his overdressed officers or those wretched Hessians, sold
+by their ruler like so much cattle to do battle for a country in which
+they had no interest. Well, anyhow, Isaac told himself resolutely, he
+would do his best to defeat the redcoats--but he would teach Tim
+Durgan a well-needed lesson first!
+
+"And for the support of this declaration," ended the reader, "with a
+firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually
+pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
+
+Silence at first--then a mighty shout from the assembled soldiers. The
+air rang with cries of "With our lives--With our honor!" as the men of
+the new Republic pledged themselves to fight for the faith she had
+just declared to the world. Isaac Franks looked toward Washington; the
+Virginian sat leaning forward slightly in his saddle. His usually
+calm, almost cold face was working with emotion; his lips moved as
+though he were about to address his men. Then he leaned toward the
+officer who had read the Declaration and murmured something in a low
+tone. The latter turned to the army.
+
+"The general hopes," the clear tones rang forth, "that this important
+event will serve as an incentive to every officer and soldier to act
+with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of
+the country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms and
+that he is in the service of a state possessed of sufficient power to
+reward his merit and advance him to the highest honors of a free
+country."
+
+Slowly the soldiers broke ranks, the dullest man among them touched
+and awed as though he had attended a new church and had consecrated
+himself to her service. For a moment Isaac Franks forgot his jeering
+comrade and his own threats; he walked to his quarters, head high in
+the air, eyes looking far away, as boy-like he dreamed of the days
+when a grateful commonwealth would "reward his merit and advance him
+to the highest honors of a free country." He walked on air, painting
+the future in the bright colors known only to seventeen, forgetful of
+the world about him, until he was recalled to earth by a mocking laugh
+and the question: "Still want to fight, Jew soldier?"
+
+Franks stiffened and turned to face his tormentor, his face hot with
+anger. "Yes, I'll fight you this minute," he answered so loudly that
+several soldiers passing by overhead his words and stopped to see the
+fun. "And thank you for reminding me, Durgan."
+
+He pulled off his coat with a deliberate calm he was far from feeling
+at that moment, for he knew only too well that his opponent was vastly
+superior to him in strength and perhaps in experience as well. But
+Isaac did not hesitate in spite of the goodnatured advice of big Bob
+MacDonald who stepped up at that moment: "Let him alone, son--you
+can't whip him and it's no use to try."
+
+But Tim had already taken off his coat and stood leering down upon
+Isaac who felt that he could never retreat now; that he would always
+despise himself as a coward, a traitor to the heroes of his race.
+Setting his teeth for the drubbing he felt certain he would receive,
+he struck out blindly. Then he felt a hand grip his arm so tightly
+that he winced with pain, and looking up, saw that General Washington
+stood beside him.
+
+"Well, men?" the commander's voice was very stern. "Have you nothing
+better to do than spend your time brawling like a couple of tavern
+roisterers? Give me a good and sufficient reason for such behaviour or
+I'll have you both tied up and flogged to teach you to act like
+gentlemen and soldiers of the American Army."
+
+His quiet eyes scanned the flushed, angry faces of the two lads. He
+turned sharply to Franks. "I am waiting!" he said.
+
+For a moment Isaac wavered. He had heard enough of Washington's sense
+of justice to realize that if the chief knew his reason for
+challenging Durgan he might escape with a slight reprimand, or even a
+word of praise for defending his race. But only for a moment. A
+gentleman and a soldier in the American Army, young Franks decided,
+did not tell tales. He shook his head.
+
+"I am sorry, your excellency," he answered, respectfully, "but I
+cannot tell you the reason of our quarrel since it concerns only
+ourselves."
+
+Tim Durgan, who had waited for Isaac's accusation with a mocking smile
+about his mouth, gave an incredulous whistle. The despised "Jew
+soldier" was a man after all, who would risk undeserved punishment
+rather than betray a comrade, no matter how much he hated him. In his
+sudden admiration for the boy he forgot his awe of General Washington
+and burst out before he was granted permission to speak.
+
+"I'll tell you, Excellency," he cried, warmly. "I've been plaguing and
+tormenting the lad and for no fault of his own. I never saw a Jew in
+my whole life before I joined the army, but I'd heard tales of them;
+cowards and afraid of their own shadows. And I teased the boy, never
+knowing he'd mind, and when he did I just kept on to spite him. And
+when he threatened to fight me, I wanted to laugh, for you can see for
+yourself, Excellency, that I'm taller and broader than he and could
+toss him about if I'd a mind to. But he wasn't afraid and if you
+hadn't come up, he'd have tried to fight me all the same." He paused
+for breath, smiling broadly, and held out his hand to Franks. "It's
+all my fault, Your Excellency, and I'm willing to take what I ought to
+for it, but first let me shake hands with him and tell him such a game
+cock ought to've been born an Irishman and no mistake."
+
+The general smiled as the two clasped hands. Then: "I am sorry I was
+disorderly, Your Excellency," apologized Franks. "I would have tried
+to forget a personal insult but I could not stand by and allow my
+people to be slandered. But I know now that he did not understand."
+
+"It takes a long time for some of us to understand, my boy," answered
+the general slowly, and, so thought Isaac, a little sadly, too. "But
+some day, God grant it, we will all understand the words you both have
+heard today and America will know no distinction of race, creed or
+station--only the worth that makes a man." He turned suddenly to Tim
+Durgan. "You come of a fighting breed, my man," he said warmly, "and
+just now when you confessed your fault you showed true courage. I need
+fighters as strong as your Irish ancestors; learn to fight only for
+our country and forget your petty quarrels and prejudices." He placed
+a kindly hand on Isaac's shoulder. "And a boy who is as loyal a Jew as
+you, must be a loyal American. I hope you will always carry yourself
+as honorably as you did today. What is your name, my lad?"
+
+"Isaac Franks, sir," answered the boy, flushing beneath his
+commander's praise.
+
+"Isaac Franks of this city?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I have always lived in New York and I enlisted here."
+
+"Then you must be the boy of whom Colonel Lescher spoke to me. He said
+that you were so eager to serve that you even bought your own uniform
+and field equipment. I expect to hear from you again." He was about to
+pass on, then paused to add kindly: "And since this is a holiday
+afternoon, why not spend it abroad instead of wrangling here. Now,"
+with a slight smile, "my Hebrew David and my Irish Jonathan, be off
+with you; and hereafter keep your blows for the British," he added,
+half jestingly, as he walked off, leaving the two lads staring
+somewhat sheepishly at each other as they strolled a little apart from
+the others.
+
+Tim was the first to speak. "It was great of you not to tell when he
+asked you," he said warmly. "And if I can ever make up to you for what
+I said about Jews--" which proves that Tim Durgan never made a foe or
+a friend by halves.
+
+"We'll forget all about that," answered Franks lightly. "But we've
+wasted a good part of the afternoon already. Let's take a long walk
+and drink to our friendship in some good brown ale. I know a tavern
+near Bowling Green where there's always jolly company and a full
+measure for a men in uniform."
+
+Chatting idly together, the two began their walk through the camp,
+passing rapidly down the crowded streets. There was a great stir in
+the city, for the storm clouds of hate against the British ruler which
+had been gathering for so many months had suddenly burst at the news
+of the signing of the Declaration at Philadelphia, and the air was
+heavy with protests of loyalty to the new government, and threats
+against King George. So when Tim and Isaac reached Bowling Green it
+was an excited crowd that they found there, gathered about the leaden
+statue of King George III; men and half-grown boys, with here and
+there a soldier enjoying his half-holiday.
+
+"One would think the British were already here," Tim growled
+goodnaturedly. "If these merchants would stop cackling together like
+the hens in my father's poultry yard at home, and shoulder a gun, we'd
+drive Master George's tin soldiers and the Hessians back across the
+water so quick they'd hardly know they'd been here at all."
+
+From the confused murmur of many voices came one rumbling cry which
+the boys caught and smiled to hear: "Down with King George! We are
+free men. Down with King George!"
+
+A thin little man in a black coat elbowed his way to the base of the
+statue from which vantage point he tried to address the crowd.
+"Friends," he quavered, as the uproar died, the idle mob ever ready
+for some new amusement, "friends, don't be too rash. Look before you
+leap. We are only a handful of untrained farmers and merchants. The
+armies of King George----"
+
+But before he could speak further, the crowd suddenly broke lose with:
+"Another cursed Tory! He is in the King's hire!--Drag him down!--Hang
+him to a tree to teach other Tories and traitors to hold their
+tongues!"
+
+The suggestion was like a fire brand to dry timber. Before the two
+soldiers on the outskirts of the crowd could fully realized what had
+happened, a stout apprentice lad in a leather apron had procured a
+rope which another brawny fellow flung around the Tory's neck. He
+tried to plead for mercy but his voice was silenced by the howling of
+the mob, so desperate in its rage against the king that they sought
+blind vengeance on their victim for daring to speak in his behalf.
+
+Isaac started forward, his face white and tense. "Come, Tim," he
+cried, "We must make them set him free."
+
+The Irishman shrugged. "A Tory more or less! Let them hang him and
+welcome."
+
+Isaac Franks did not answer. He only pushed his way through the mob,
+the crowd giving place to his uniform. He knew he could do nothing
+against them single-handed; yet he felt that he could not let this
+innocent man die. And, curiously enough, he thought less of the Tory's
+fate than the shame that would fall upon the people of his native
+city, if they committed such a crime in their reckless fury. He neared
+the front where several older and cooler citizens stood trying in vain
+to persuade the angry patriots to release the Tory. Then a splendid
+thought flashed through his quick mind, and springing lightly upon the
+leaden statue, he cried in a ringing voice: "I come from General
+Washington."
+
+The magic name hushed the angry crowd. They waited eagerly for the
+boy's words.
+
+"I serve the general of the American Army," continued Franks, "and I
+am as loyal as any of you, for I carry a gun to defend my country
+while you do nothing but cackle, cackle like the hens in a poultry
+yard." The crowd, quick to respond to every suggestion, laughed
+goodhumoredly at Tim's mocking description which was now standing his
+friend in good stead. "And you have as much brains as the hens in a
+poultry yard," continued the boy, following his advantage, "for
+instead of pulling out the roots of your trouble, you attack this poor
+fool who never saw King George and is not even one of his soldiers."
+He leaned down and half pulled the rope from the Tory's neck. "He is
+not worthy the honor of hanging. Use your good rope to haul down the
+statue of his Gracious Majesty, King George III--which has cumbered
+our city too long. And melt the lead into bullets which the soldiers
+of General Washington will use against any Briton who dares to enter
+our New York."
+
+A roar of applause broke from the crowd. "Down with King George!" they
+cried as a dozen eager hands pulled the rope from the frightened
+Tory's neck and flung it about the statue. The Tory, only too glad to
+make his escape, crept away unnoticed in the crowd, already intent
+upon pulling the leaden effigy to the ground. They tugged as one man,
+that howling, maddened mob until with a great crash the deposed statue
+of the hated British king lay upon the ground. Then: "Bullets" was the
+cry, "bullets for our soldiers," as, laughing and shouting, the
+citizens of New York dragged the statue away to be melted into bullets
+for colonial rifles.
+
+Isaac Franks looked longingly after them. But he knew that it would
+soon be time for "taps" and he dared not be late. With a little sigh,
+he turned his face toward the camp, where, under General Washington,
+he hoped to learn to become a good soldier of the Republic.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST SERVICE
+
+_The Story of a Rabbi Who Lived in New York When it Was Captured
+by the British in 1776._
+
+
+A Sabbath hush brooded over the garden of the Rev. Mr. Gershom Mendes
+Seixas, minister of New York's one synagogue, _Shearith Israel_. The
+tall pink and white hollyhocks that bordered the prim paths nodded
+languidly in the warm September breeze. From the trees came the
+twitter of sparrows, now low and conversational, now high and shrill,
+"just like people in the synagogue," thought little David Phillips, as
+he strolled in his grandmother's garden on the other side of the
+hedge. And if David had pulled aside the white curtains of the Rabbi's
+study windows, he would have seen that the same Sabbath peace filled
+the low-ceilinged room, the walls covered with books, most of them
+rather forbidding in their musty, leather bindings. A peaceful,
+restful room on the Jewish rest day; but, boy as he was, David would
+have seen at a glance that Rabbi Seixas was not at peace with himself.
+A keen-eyed, quick-moving young man of about thirty, he paced
+restlessly up and down between the bookshelves, his hands clasped
+behind his back, his brows knit in thought. Several times he glanced
+at the tall clock his father had brought from Lisbon; it would soon be
+time for him to go to the synagogue; but what message had he to give
+his people?
+
+Down the quiet street came the roll of drums, and David rushed to the
+gate, wishing with all his heart that he might follow the soldiers.
+But he knew that his grandmother expected him to take her to the
+synagogue, and he did not dare to leave the garden; instead he stood
+kicking holes in the path with his shining Sabbath boots which at that
+moment he hated with all his might, just as he hated the ruffles of
+fine linen that his grandmother had painfully stitched for him with
+her loving, rheumatic old fingers, and his Sabbath suit in which he
+was never allowed to romp or play. And at that moment, with the
+British actually knocking at New York's front door, one could hardly
+blame a small boy for growing impatient at the restrictions of a
+doting old grandmother, no matter how much she might indulge the
+orphan grandson whom his dying father had left in her charge the year
+before. If he were only a man, thought David, longingly; only old
+enough to be with General Washington's troops across the river. But a
+ten-year-old boy, who couldn't even play the drum like Frank Morris,
+the apprentice lad who had run away to join the army, couldn't serve
+his country any better than a feeble old lady like Grandma or a
+minister like the rabbi next door.
+
+The roll of drums had startled the rabbi as well as his young neighbor
+and he now appeared in his garden, walking with swift, nervous steps
+to the gate. At first, he did not seem to see David; only stared down
+the road with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the rails of the
+gate until his knuckles showed hard and white; then, as the drums grew
+fainter, his shoulders relaxed a little, he sighed deeply, and,
+turning toward David, nodded kindly, even smiling, as though he had no
+deeper thought in his mind than giving his young friend a Sabbath
+greeting.
+
+"Good _Shabbas_," said the rabbi. "I see you're all ready for service,
+my lad."
+
+"Yes, sir. I'm just waiting for Grandmother." From far off came the
+last sound of the drums. "Did you hear the drums, sir? I wonder
+whether more of our troops are coming to the city."
+
+The minister's face darkened. "Rather the American troops are leaving
+it, I fear," he answered gravely. "Mr. Levy who came by early this
+morning told me that four British ships have already passed up North
+River, and that there are about the same number anchored in Turtle
+Bay. They may make a landing at any time--and if they do----" he
+smiled somewhat grimly, "well, I fear, my lad, that we will be living
+in a British province."
+
+But David had heard too much from his cousins in Philadelphia of the
+glorious doings of a few months before, the Declaration of
+Independence signed in July, the ringing of the great Liberty Bell.
+And he answered as sturdily as any other boy of 1776 might have done:
+"No, sir. The British may take the city, but no true-born American
+will submit to their rule."
+
+Rabbi Seixas smiled a little at his fire. "But what will you do,
+David? They are already at our gates. From what I have heard not even
+General Washington, lying across the river with his troops, can stay
+the British now. General Howe will hold a tight rein over the city
+and we must learn to bow our shoulders to the yoke."
+
+David stiffened his small shoulders stubbornly as though he actually
+stood before the hated English officer. "The good people of Boston,"
+he began, proudly, "were not afraid of the redcoats--" then stopped,
+for his older companion did not have to remind him of the fate of the
+Boston citizens shot down on the public common by the soldiers of King
+George.
+
+"Ah, little David," said the minister, sadly, reading his thoughts,
+"we will be just as powerless before our foe as our ancestors were
+before the Philistines."
+
+A merry twinkle sparkled in David's eyes; he was a bright little
+fellow and he had not studied Hebrew and Jewish history all the long
+winter with the Rev. Mr. Seixas without learning a few lessons very
+helpful in time of need. "Didn't David and his sling frighten the
+whole Philistine army away?" he asked, mischievously.
+
+The minister did not smile. "But the Lord was on David's side," he
+answered, gravely. "Today he seems to have deserted His People."
+
+Down the street came a man whose white hairs might have marked him as
+aged had not his bright eyes and resolute bearing spoken of undying
+youth. He paused a moment at the gate, bowing to the Rabbi with all
+the formal courtliness of his day.
+
+"Good _Shabbas_, Mr. Gomez," said the minister. "You are on your way
+to the synagogue?"
+
+"Yes. Perhaps it may be the last service we will have in _Shearith
+Israel_ before the cursed British guns blow our roof about our ears,"
+answered the older man. "Alas, Mr. Seixas, when you were elected our
+Rabbi but a year ago, I predicted a long and fruitful term of service
+for you in our midst. But now--" a hopeless shrug completed the
+sentence.
+
+"Believe me, I shall not fail in my duty as long as I serve the
+congregation of _Shearith Israel_," answered the young Rabbi, rather
+stiffly.
+
+"I know--I know." The white head nodded gloomily. "You will do what
+you can as a priest, but this war must be won by men. I have lived
+almost seventy years, Mr. Seixas, and have always sought to be a good
+Jew and hold up the hands of those who served the Lord, as I know you
+strive to do. And in times of peace, a man of your learning and purity
+of heart is a worthy leader. But in these times that try men's souls,
+we need not priests, but men," he repeated and walked slowly away.
+
+"What did he mean, Mr. Seixas?" asked David as the old man disappeared
+down the street. His eager little ears had taken in every word of the
+conversation; but he had not dared to ask questions while his elders
+were conversing, and had remained silent as a well-bred lad of his day
+was taught to do. "Does he mean we shouldn't have rabbis and ministers
+when there's a war?"
+
+The rabbi shook his head. "Not exactly that, David. But perhaps he
+wishes that today we had fighting priests like the old Maccabees,
+those men who went to battle with swords in their hands, prayers in
+their hearts. And old Mr. Gomez is a fit descendant of those heroes,"
+he cried with sudden warmth. "Old as he is, he offered to form a
+company of soldiers for service and enlist himself. When he was told
+that he was too old to take the field, he said: 'I could stop a bullet
+as well as a younger man.' It is such a spirit that wins wars, David."
+
+"That's splendid!" exclaimed the boy. "I know how he feels--just
+sitting around New York and waiting for the British to come and rule
+over us! If I were only old enough to go and fight, too! I wish,"
+wistfully, "I were grown up like you. Then I wouldn't have to be here
+today, waiting to go to the synagogue with Grandmother. I'd be with
+Frank and General Washington and be fighting for my country."
+
+The minister's cheeks flushed; he winced as though the boy's innocent
+words had hurt him deeply. When he spoke it seemed that he was almost
+thinking aloud; that he had forgotten his young companion on the other
+side of the hedge.
+
+"How can I lay aside my clergyman's cloak for the soldier's uniform?"
+he asked, slowly. "And how can I leave my bride of a year--perhaps
+never to return to her? And my people--I have not been with them any
+longer: surely, my duty is to them; to guide and lead them in this
+time of danger and uncertainty. Otherwise I would be like a shepherd
+who rushes off to fight the robbers of the mountains, while his flocks
+are torn by wolves that ravage close at hand."
+
+He spoke as though he were reciting the words of a speech already
+written and learned by rote, thought David, half-wondering if the
+minister weren't learning his sermon for that morning. For how could
+the boy know that Mr. Seixas had again and again repeated to himself
+the very arguments he was now uttering aloud for the first time.
+Suddenly the young man who had stood like one in a dream, leaning upon
+the gate, his eyes looking far way, turned toward him and smiled
+almost in apology.
+
+"Have you wondered at my words, little David?" he asked, almost
+lightly. "Ah, in days like these, one says many strange and unheard-of
+things. I have tried to refrain from speaking, for now mere words are
+idle and of little worth. But when I think of my New York--the city in
+which I was born and reared--in the hands of the British, I must
+speak, or my heart would choke me." His hand tugged at the linen stock
+about his throat. "God of Israel," he muttered, "in these dark days,
+give Thy servant light to see Thy ways--and strength to follow them."
+
+David, feeling strangely awkward at hearing his rabbi pray, save in
+the pulpit, looked longingly at the house, hoping that his grandmother
+would come out and end the discussion which was becoming a little
+difficult for him. But he knew how long it always took her to don her
+Sabbath silk and long gold chain and earrings, and resigned himself to
+listen, should the Rev. Mr. Seixas care to talk to him further.
+
+For a few moments there was silence between them. Then the rabbi
+turned to David again and continued to speak to him as though he were
+really grown up, and not a little boy who had studied Hebrew and
+history with him all winter.
+
+"I am not afraid to go into battle," he said quietly, "but I feel
+that it will take far more bravery to fight for our country right here
+at home. I must be on hand to cheer and comfort my people; to teach
+those who lose their dear ones on the battlefield to look to our God
+for consolation; to teach those who stay at home to do their part too,
+even if it be but knitting and baking dainties for our soldiers. That
+will be easy," he mused, "but how can I endure living here under
+British rule, feeling myself a slave among a slave people?" He threw
+back his head, his eyes glowing with the light of battle. "Our people
+have wandered, many of them, from Spain to Holland, from Holland to
+this blessed land, to be free; how can I, a leader in Israel, bow down
+to the sons of Belial who will come among us!" His hands clenched the
+wickets of the gate; he breathed hard and was silent.
+
+As he spoke in ringing tones, an almost forgotten picture flashed
+before David's eyes. He was listening again to the rabbi's story of
+the days when the Romans besieged Jerusalem and laid it waste and took
+the people captive. He remembered how Mr. Seixas had glowed with pride
+when he told of those ancient Jews--"Fighters all, David, who could
+not live as slaves."
+
+"Mr. Seixas," asked David, suddenly, "in the old days when the Romans
+burned the Temple and everything, what did the rabbis do? Did they
+fight like Bar Kochba and the other generals?"
+
+With a visible effort, the rabbi wrenched himself back to the present.
+"The Romans"--he repeated, vaguely. "What did the rabbis do?" Again
+his voice thrilled with pride as it had done when he had first told
+the child the story of Bar Kochba's rebellion. "They were brave men,
+David; priests and warriors. Rabbi Akiba did the thing I must try to
+do--kept the fighters brave and loyal; and when he could do no more,
+he died as bravely as the bravest soldier of them all."
+
+"But there was one rabbi who didn't die," insisted David. "I forget
+his name, but I liked him better than all the others because he got
+the best of the Romans. Don't you know--he pretended he was dead and
+had his pupils take him to the Emperor in a coffin, that the guards
+wouldn't stop them when they passed the gates. And when the Emperor
+asked him what he wanted, he said 'Just let me build a school and I
+won't trouble anybody! What was his name, Mr. Seixas?"
+
+"You are thinking of Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai," answered his teacher,
+slowly. "You are right--he did 'get the best of the Romans,' as you
+say. He would have died rather than breathe the air of a Roman court
+like Josephus; instead he continued to fight the enemy of his people;
+he handed down to his disciples the sword with which they were to
+fight through the centuries."
+
+"What sword?" asked David, puzzled.
+
+"Not a real sword; the study of our Law, our Torah. He opened a school
+at Jabneh, you remember, and there he taught his scholars to be good
+Jews, even though Jerusalem was destroyed." His eyes widened and again
+he seemed to be looking far away. "Jerusalem was destroyed, even as
+the city of my hope will be taken from me. But Rabbi ben Zakkai
+escaped to Jabneh and continued the battle there!" He spoke almost in
+a whisper and a strange light glowed in his face. "Have you been sent
+to teach me the truth, David? Truly, 'out of the mouths of babes and
+sucklings hast Thou ordained truth.'"
+
+Mistress Seixas appeared at the doorway, a bright-faced young woman,
+pretty in her Sabbath finery of gay silk mantle and flowered bonnet.
+"I am all ready, Gershom," she told her husband as she came down the
+path.
+
+"And I am ready, too, Elkallah," he answered so gravely that David
+felt he meant much more than the simple words implied.
+
+David, as a boy who was not yet _Bar Mitzvah_, sat beside his
+grandmother in the _Shearith Israel_ synagogue that bright September
+morning, while the drums beat in the streets and the frightened
+citizens buzzed excitedly in knots upon the street corners, this man
+contending that the British would be defeated before they even crossed
+the Sound, his neighbor declaring that on the morrow the redcoats
+would surely be encamped in the city. Within the synagogue, the Jewish
+citizens of New York continued to hold their Sabbath services. A
+goodly assembly they were; Jews of proud blood from Spain and
+Portugal, descendants of the early settlers in New Amsterdam, when the
+city of New York was still in the hand of the Dutch; a sprinkling of
+_Ashkenazim_, German and Polish Jews, who at that time were too few in
+number to have a congregation of their own. There were many children
+and young people there, pupils and graduates of the religious school
+the congregation had founded almost fifty years before for the
+teaching of Hebrew, modern languages and the common branches. While
+among the men sat sturdy patriots, Samuel Judah, Hayem Levy, Jacob
+Mosez and others whose names had appeared on the Non-importation
+agreement in 1769, when they with their gentile neighbors had dared to
+protest against the tyranny of Great Britain. Benjamin Seixas was
+there, too, one of the first Jews to become an officer in the American
+Army and several other Jewish soldiers in their uniforms of buff and
+blue sat nearby; while directly before him, his alert face thrust
+forward, sat old Mr. Gomez, drinking in every word of the sermon the
+young rabbi delivered after the Sabbath services were over; an English
+sermon, destined to make Jewish history in America.
+
+At first Rabbi Seixas spoke quietly enough, reviewing for his people
+the causes which had led up to the break between the mother country,
+England, and her colonies. He spoke of the tyranny of the king and his
+slavish Parliament, the unjust taxes, the quartering of troops upon a
+law-abiding and peace-loving people. With quiet bitterness, he
+repeated the old story of the children of Israel who demanded that
+their prophet Samuel set a king over them, and of the prophet's
+warning that only evil would come to a people who served a king
+instead of the Lord of Hosts. "And today," went on Mr. Seixas, "today,
+we the people of the Thirteen Colonies have a king over us far more
+tyrannical and unjust than the oriental monarch Samuel painted of
+old. To this day have I been silent, breathing no word against this
+Pharaoh of Egypt, for the mission of Israel has ever been peace, and
+next to God we have been loyal to the masters He has set over us. But
+in times like these we are serving Him best by defying those who rule
+in His name, but know not His laws of mercy and of justice. The time
+has come at last for us to enter the Valley of Decision. Where will
+you stand now, my people, when the redcoats thunder at our gates?
+Shall we bow before Pharaoh? Nay, the same God who rescued our fathers
+from the Pharaoh of Egypt will rescue us and all who call upon Him,
+from this new tyrant who would bend our necks and fetter us like very
+slaves."
+
+There was a solemn hush in the synagogue, broken only by the murmur of
+the passing crowds outside, the distant roll of drums. For the first
+time that morning David was glad he had not been allowed to run off to
+see the soldiers. This was not an every-week sort of sermon about
+keeping the Sabbath or about some dead kings with long, hard names;
+the rabbi no longer seemed just a quiet man in a dark coat who had a
+great many books and knew everything and taught him Hebrew and
+history. Instead, he appeared like those splendid fighting priests he
+had mentioned that morning, a man who talked to God--and held a sword
+in his hand while he prayed.
+
+For a moment Mr. Seixas stood before his congregation, looking down
+into the tense, upturned faces, yet past them, as though his eyes saw
+visions no other man there might see. Perhaps he was thinking of what
+a great step he had just taken; how his words had outlawed him forever
+in the sight of the English king; had made him an exile from the dear
+city of his birth. Again his hands clutched at his stock and he
+breathed with difficulty, but only for a moment. For his eyes met
+those of his young wife, Elkallah, and he smiled to reassure her and
+give her comfort. When he spoke again, his voice was low and clear,
+but as strong as a trumpet call in battle.
+
+"Tonight, perhaps; surely, tomorrow, the British will have entered our
+city--but they will not find me here. For I will not serve the Lord in
+a sanctuary from which Freedom has departed. I will leave the city and
+seek for a place of refuge where the soldiers of the colonies fight
+for freedom. And, my people, I ask you in the words of Mattathias,
+that warrior priest of other days--'Those who are on the Lord's side
+follow me!'"
+
+Again a long silence, then an uproar from every side. "He speaks
+truly! It is slavery if we remain!" "I cannot leave my property to be
+confiscated by the Crown." "The British will never take the city."
+"They will be here by sunrise." And suddenly little David's shrill
+voice ringing above the others, although he never realized until hours
+afterwards, when he was reprimanded by his grandmother, that he had
+dared to speak out with all the older and wiser members of the
+congregation:
+
+"O Mr. Seixas, please take me along, too! I don't want to live in New
+York any more if the redcoats are here."
+
+"And I will follow you," cried another voice, "although my fortune be
+forfeit and my land be seized by the king."
+
+"And I--and I," rang out from every corner of the synagogue.
+
+Some were silent, those who were to remain behind, and as Tories, know
+the friendship of the invaders. But the greater part of the
+worshippers, those whose ancestors like the Pilgrim Fathers had come
+to these shores to seek freedom before God, responded to their rabbi's
+call like true soldiers about their standard bearer.
+
+"All that the Lord hath laid upon us, that will we do," cried out a
+very old man, rising to his feet and trembling with age as he spoke.
+"My eyes are dim, but He will not close them in death until they
+behold the rising of the sun of freedom upon these blessed shores."
+
+He spoke like an ancient prophet and a hush like death fell upon the
+people. Slowly, like a man in a dream, Rabbi Seixas walked to the Ark
+and took from it the Scrolls of the Law; with the eyes of a man who
+sees visions he clasped the Torah to his breast and spoke: "When
+Jerusalem was destroyed, Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai rebuilt a spiritual
+Jerusalem in the little town of Jabneh where the faithful ones sat at
+his feet and learned the Law. I will not leave our precious Torah
+behind me to be used by those who remain here to serve King George
+instead of the King of Israel. Some time, some place God will
+establish a refuge for His faithful ones and there will we worship Him
+as free men." He spoke with a great hope in his heart, although at
+that moment he never dreamed how during the darkest days of the
+Revolution he would be allowed to labor and serve in Philadelphia
+until he should return to New York in triumph to witness the
+inauguration of George Washington as president of the United States.
+
+At a word from the minister, the _Shammas_ (sexton) and several
+members of the congregation quietly removed the velvet curtains from
+the Ark, taking the silver pointer, the _Ner Tamid_ (perpetual light),
+all the sacred symbols which had made their worship beautiful for
+Sabbath after Sabbath during the years of security and peace. The
+congregation sat motionless, like people in a dream. Laying the Torah
+aside, Mr. Seixas came forward, his hands raised in blessing. His
+voice was tremulous with tears as he spoke: "_Yevorekhekha Adonai
+we-yishm'rekha. Yaer Adonai panov eilekha wi'chunekha. Yisa Adonai
+panov eilekha weyasem lekha shalom._" (The Lord bless thee and keep
+thee. The Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto
+thee. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace.)
+
+Then, the Scroll again close to his heart, he passed among the silent
+worshippers out into the warm September sunshine.
+
+One by one the people followed him as he stood before the synagogue
+where he had hoped to serve so many useful years. His face was grave,
+but his voice was firm, his bearing unafraid. His young wife,
+Elkallah, stood proudly beside him. Though threatened with exile, she
+held her head like a queen. From the synagogue came old Mistress
+Phillips, leaning upon David's arm. "We will miss you sorely, Mr.
+Seixas," she said, sadly, "both as rabbi and as neighbor. I--ah, I am
+too old to leave the city where I was born. But perhaps I will send
+David to his cousins in Philadelphia."
+
+"But I won't stay there," cried the boy, his cheeks flaming with
+excitement. "I'm going to be a soldier--just like the Maccabees." He
+raised flashing eyes to his teacher's face and something that he saw
+there made the happiness die out of his own. Boy that he was, he
+realized the ache in the rabbi's heart at leaving his work and his
+friends behind him.
+
+"I'm sorry you have to go, Mr. Seixas," he said simply.
+
+The young minister turned his somber eyes back toward the synagogue
+which he had entered a year before, his heart burning with great hopes
+for the future. Now, with the Torah in his arms, his congregation
+scattered, he felt himself a fugitive on the face of the earth. He
+looked about him at the older folk like Mistress Phillips whose dying
+bedside he might never comfort, at the little children he could no
+longer teach. Lastly he looked down into the tearful eyes of his young
+bride--a bride of a year, with exile and hardship before her. Then he
+straightened his shoulders and spoke bravely.
+
+"Some day," said Rabbi Seixas, "I will return to serve our God in a
+city that He has made free."
+
+
+
+
+THE GENEROUS GIVER
+
+_The Story of a Jewish Money Lender of the Revolution._
+
+
+Jonas Schmidt, one of the jailors of the Provost, the grim old prison
+in New York, where the British had confined their numerous French and
+American prisoners after capturing the city from Washington in 1776,
+stood before Sir Henry Clinton, the English commander, shifting
+uneasily as he fumbled his cap with his great, hairy hands. Sir Henry
+looked him over coldly with his quiet, keen eyes that cowed man and
+horse alike; then he turned to his companion, General Heister,
+Commander of the Hessian mercenaries, purchased by the British king
+and sent overseas to fight his battles.
+
+"We can get nothing out of this man," he said in a tone of cold
+contempt. "He is either too stupid--or clever enough to appear so!--to
+answer our questions." He nodded to the embarrassed jailor. "You may
+go now. But remember: if escapes become too numerous, I may find it
+necessary to use the gallows in the courtyard yonder and find another
+jailor for my prison."
+
+Jonas bowed respectfully and lost no time in putting the door between
+him and Sir Henry. Tory though he was, the old man hated the English
+commander with all the strength of his simple soul. He had been eager
+enough to secure the situation of jailor at the Provost, never
+dreaming of the horrors he might see there. Now, sickened with the
+prison stenches, with the half-starved prisoners wasting away with
+fever and dying before his eyes, he thought longingly of his little
+farm up in the hills where his placid wife and two stout daughters
+lived as peacefully as though the colonists had never rebelled against
+the mother country and hardly knew that the British held New York.
+"Too stupid to answer," muttered the old man, swinging his heavy keys,
+as he passed down the prison corridor. "But I am wise enough to hold
+my tongue when it profits me nothing to endanger the necks of better
+men than Sir Henry Clinton. Let him use his own eyes, if he will; mine
+will be shut when good Mr. Salomon chooses to walk abroad," and he
+chuckled softly as he passed down the dark, damp corridors.
+
+Sir Henry's teeth clicked angrily as the door closed behind the
+jailor. "Well?" he demanded of the Hessian Commander. "Well, since
+this man seems to bear out the reputation for honesty you gave him, it
+seems that we are on the wrong trail. Yet I mistrust this Haym
+Salomon, though our friendly jailor declares that he knows naught
+against him. It might be well to keep a stricter watch on this Jew
+broker in the future."
+
+General Heister nodded emphatically. He was far too good a diplomat to
+quarrel with Sir Henry or to waste breath defending a man whom the
+Englishman mistrusted. "I only know that he is a man of rare parts,"
+he said, "a man who has traveled much before coming to America and has
+become versed in many tongues. That is why, when I found him among
+the captured Americans two years ago, I deemed it better to use him
+and his talents rather than confine him with the others to rot and die
+of the prison fevers. So I have allowed him greater freedom than the
+other prisoners and found a place for him in the commissariat
+department where his knowledge of tongues and his Hebrew shrewdness
+have proved of great value to me."
+
+Sir Henry gave a short laugh. "That Hebrew shrewdness of your learned
+friend may have proved of equal value to several of the French and
+American lads who have lately escaped from our prison. No, do not
+remove him--just yet. Give the rogue a long enough rope and he may
+find it dangling around his own neck on the scaffold out yonder." He
+turned to the sheaf of papers before him, pushing back his fine lace
+ruffles. "Enough of Haym Salomon. He will be my care hereafter. Now go
+over these lists with me, Heister," and he began to turn the closely
+written sheets with his long, nervous fingers.
+
+At that moment Jonas, the jailor, was talking in low, excited tones to
+a man he had stopped in one of the prison corridors, a grave-faced man
+with shrewd eyes and a tender mouth which smiled now at the other's
+earnestness.
+
+"I can only warn you, Mr. Salomon," repeated the little jailor, "that
+Sir Henry is watching you as a chicken hawk watches a tender pullet.
+Many a time have I lost a choice fowl through the appetite of those
+accursed thieves," he added, half to himself, as his mind wandered
+back to his quiet farm. Then, pulling himself back to the present: "I
+know that many things go on in this prison which--which might not suit
+the pleasure of his majesty over seas, but," with a shrewd chuckle, "I
+cannot be every place and if a lad or two does escape--well, may the
+dear God be as gracious to my one boy should he fall into the hands of
+your George Washington and his rebels. But, Mr. Salomon," detaining
+the quiet man in the black coat who was about to pass on, "do not take
+too many risks just now. Do not allow your kind heart to lead you into
+danger. For if you are discovered being--ah--too kind to some of our
+prisoners, I cannot save you from Sir Henry. Promise me," laying one
+of his great, red hands on the other's arm, "promise me, you will
+attempt no more 'prison deliveries' until his suspicions are quieted."
+
+Haym Salomon shook his head. "I am sorry to cause you anxiety, my
+friend," he answered, kindly, "for you have been a good friend to me.
+And I will try to be careful--if I can. But first there is a promise I
+must redeem. When that debt is paid, I will try to behave so
+discreetly that even Sir Henry Clinton will own his suspicions of me
+unfounded."
+
+"A debt to be paid!" The jailor looked puzzled. "Why, you are one of
+the richest brokers in New York. If you owe any money, give me a word
+to your wife and I will see that the debt is discharged and your mind
+at rest."
+
+Salomon shook his head, smilingly. "It is a debt money cannot pay," he
+answered. "I have pledged my word and that has never been broken, nor
+can I break it now." He passed on and the jailor looked after him, a
+look of mingled respect and affection on his fat, stupid face.
+
+A place of horror even to a well man, the old Provost meant
+unspeakable tortures to a youth slowly recovering from prison fever.
+Young Louis di Vernon, lying upon the dirty wooden floor, faint from
+the fever and sick for home, turned longing eyes toward the grated
+door which had not swung open since Jonas had entered with his
+breakfast of bread and water for the prisoners. But Haym Salomon had
+promised to come later in the day and the boy waited confidently, for
+like many others he trusted the quiet man with the shrewd eyes and
+tender mouth.
+
+At last the door opened and Jonas enter the room, wooden bowls of a
+sticky, floury substance he called "gruel" on his tray. He passed
+between the men, leaving his bowls besides them on the floor. When
+they complained of thirst, he stopped for a moment to ladle out a
+dipperful of water from the wooden pail he carried upon his left arm,
+while now and then he stopped to hear some complaint of a weary man,
+to promise aid or seek to jest away the prisoner's melancholy.
+
+"The broth too salt?" he repeated, gravely. "How can that be when one
+of your rebel friends serves behind the soup kettle this month? Now if
+a poor Hessian or loyal Englishman like myself were cook, you might
+have reason to complain that he spitefully over-seasoned your
+victuals. Or is it that the cooking of your rebels is as evil as your
+politics?" And again: "Too crowded, eh? Well, some folks are never
+satisfied and you'd be among the growlers, my friend, if you slept on
+down and fine linen. Why among the well prisoners, 'tis so cramped for
+space that when their bones ache from the floor at night and they
+would turn, they find themselves wedged in so tight that not a man can
+budge till I give the order, 'Left, Right!' when they turn in a solid
+body and ease their weary sides. And you, who sleep in what they would
+consider a palace, poor souls, call yourself suffering for room."
+
+He had reached Louis by this time and his quick eye noted how flushed
+the lad was, while his eager glance kept turning toward the grated
+door. With an impatient gesture the Frenchman pushed away the bowl the
+jailor set beside him. "I am sick of prison fare," he cried, hotly.
+"When I left France to follow Lafayette I never dreamed that I might
+die of prison fever in a hole like this. Take away your food; the
+sooner I starve, the sooner I am free."
+
+Jonas looked him over sympathetically, but could say nothing of
+comfort; instead he pushed the bowl toward him again, thinking,
+perhaps, the dinner might do something to restore the boy's peace of
+mind. But the prisoner again shoved him aside and sat up, his eyes
+straining toward the grated door, where some one now rattled the bars.
+
+"Let me in, friend Jonas," said the voice of Haym Salomon, "and I
+promise not to steal any of the good dinner you have brought your
+fledglings."
+
+The heartsick prisoners smiled at the poor jest and more than one man
+turned eagerly as Jonas unlocked the door and admitted the Jewish
+broker, a prisoner like themselves, yet bringing with him the free
+air of the outside world. Haym passed from one to the other, with
+here a smile, there a word of comfort or bit of quaint philosophy.
+Into the fever-hot hands of one flaxen-haired farmer lad lying half
+delirious and dreaming of home, he dropped a few flowers plucked in
+the prison yard that morning; to a lonely, discouraged Frenchman he
+spoke in his own tongue, uttering a homely proverb that caused the
+homesick foreigner to laugh back into his smiling face. At last he
+came to Louis, and, with a nod toward the puzzled Jonas, lifted the
+bowl of soup and placed it to the boy's lips.
+
+"Drink," he commanded gently, but gravely. "You must eat and drink and
+grow strong or you will not be able to go back to your sweetheart in
+France. I have not forgotten my promise to write to her for you, but
+first you must please me and eat. And, now, Jonas, some of your good
+clear water--as sparkling as the wines of sunny France. Did I ever
+tell you, Louis, my lad, of the little inn where I ate my first meal
+in your country and how the good landlord laughed at my blunders, for
+then I knew little of your tongue?"
+
+Never taking his eyes from his friend's face, the boy obediently ate
+and drank and Jonas looked on, well satisfied. He knew that his
+masters did not concern themselves whether the prisoners starved or
+not; yet, somehow, it made him uncomfortable at times to see boys no
+older than his own son wasting away before his eyes. He wondered
+whether he was hardy enough to be an efficient jailor.
+
+Something of his thoughts must have been written upon his broad, red
+face, for Salomon looking up quickly, nodded as though he understood.
+"Louis is a good lad, Jonas," he said, taking out his writing material
+and spreading it upon his knees. "There are many good lads here--boys
+like your boy who chooses to serve the king instead of the colonies.
+My little one is not yet old enough for the army; such a tiny mite,
+Louis!--but if he were, I should find it hard not to hate the man who
+caged him here behind bars like a beast and kept him stiffling in the
+prison darkness. You are too tender a man for such devil's work,
+friend Jonas. Ploughing and milking your peaceful cows might bring you
+less gold, but there would be no heart ache when the day's work was
+over."
+
+Jonas scowled heavily. Rumors had reached him before of certain
+English sympathizers like himself who had found their work distasteful
+after a quiet talk with Salomon and had suddenly left their posts,
+declaring that they no longer desired to serve the king and his cause.
+To be sure, he, Jonas Schmidt, would remain a loyal servant to King
+George until the end of his days, and yet--why, should this quiet man
+prod his sleeping soul with disquieting thoughts?
+
+"And now," Haym spoke briskly to the young Frenchman, "we will write
+to your sweetheart and tell her how well you are getting on and that
+as soon as the wound in your hand is healed you will write to her
+again." His pen raced over the paper. "Perhaps you will care to look
+it over and correct my spelling which is even worse in French than in
+English," and he handed the sheet covered with French characters to
+Louis. The boy took it languidly enough, but his weary eyes brightened
+as he read:
+
+"Do not show any surprise, but I must communicate with you in this way
+lest there be spies among the prisoners who would betray us. You are
+to grow weaker and tomorrow morning the jail physician, whom I have
+bribed, will find that you have died in the night. The grave digger
+will turn your body over to friends of the cause who will help you to
+leave New York and reach the Colonials in safety. If I am ever free
+and you need a friend, call upon me without reserve."
+
+The boy, his eyes filled with sudden tears, reached out and would have
+pressed Salomon's hand, but the latter drew back laughingly. "Why such
+gratitude over a mere letter which has taken me but a moment to pen?"
+he said lightly, speaking loudly enough to be heard by those about
+him. He folded the sheet carefully, placing it in his breast; as he
+did so, he felt the eyes of a prisoner upon him; a newcomer who looked
+him over carefully; then turned away with an indifference that Haym
+believed was wholly feigned. But if Salomon felt that the man was an
+informer he gave no sign. "Now I must about my work," he told Louis.
+"I will see that your missive leaves by the next ship. So eat, my
+little friend, grow fat, and cease to worry. _Au revoir._"
+
+"_Au revoir_," answered Louis, with equal lightness. "I know my
+betrothed will rejoice to see your letter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In one of the darkest cells of the old Provost sat Haym Salomon with
+chains about his wrists and ankles. From the courtyard he could hear
+the merry laughter of the British soldiers and their Hessian comrades
+as they smoked and jested after their evening meal. Like true
+soldiers, they took it all in a day's work and there seemed to be no
+lack of spirits among them even if they were assigned the grim task of
+hanging a man upon the morrow. And Haym Salomon, being condemned to
+death by a military court, smiled his grave, gentle smile to hear
+their mirth. He had played the game of chance and he had lost, so why
+should he complain?
+
+Down the damp corridor came the shuffling of feet and a moment later
+Jonas Schmidt entered, a lantern in one hand, a straw basket on his
+arm. "Your wife has sent you something for your evening meal," he said
+gruffly, placing the basket on the bench beside the condemned man. He
+spoke loudly as he noticed a red-coated Briton loitering at the end of
+the passage. "Faith, she has sent you enough to feed a regiment. But
+women are ever foolish. My own wife is waiting for me below. She has
+come all the way to New York merely for advice about our milch heifer
+and traveled weighted down with cakes and eggs and butter--which all
+her careful packing could not shield enough from the August sun, and
+it has oozed through her finest linen napkin and she is sorely
+grieved. But not an egg is broken and tomorrow Sir Henry Clinton will
+eat eggs laid by loyal Tory hens for his breakfast with my
+compliments."
+
+Haym glanced sharply at his old friend who seldom indulged in such
+lengthy speech. He was about to the basket, touched at his poor wife's
+thoughtfulness, when the jailor gave a warning gesture and tiptoed to
+the door. Then he came back, nodding, well pleased at his own craft.
+
+"The lobster has disappeared," he whispered. "I thought that my
+chatter would mislead him. But we have not a minute to lose. Open the
+basket and dress quickly in the woman's raiment you find there." Then,
+as Haym stared at him bewildered, "Dress, I say," and he pulled from
+the basket a calico dress, tightly rolled, a gay shawl and a woman's
+deep straw bonnet. "When you were pronounced guilty--and every man in
+New York knew what the outcome of your trial would be--I said that I
+for one would not have your blood upon my hands. No, no, Haym Salomon.
+You may be an infidel Jew, but you are a better Christian than all who
+worship in Trinity Church every Sabbath. By the will of God, my son
+passed through New York on his way home for a moment's visit with his
+mother. I entrusted him with a letter I dared not send through the
+post, telling her to come to me at once, bringing a set of garments
+exactly like those she herself would wear." He chuckled. "She came,
+thinking me quite mad, but obeying me as is her habit. In a moment, I
+had told her all. She left the extra clothes in that basket with me
+and now waits us beyond the courtyard, where Sir Henry and his friends
+will find an empty scaffold tomorrow."
+
+Thus the little jailor, unlocking Haym's chains as he spoke.
+
+"But I do not understand--" Haym was still bewildered, after his long
+hours of torturing doubt and uncertainty--"You never spoke to me of
+escaping."
+
+"I dared not raise your hopes too high. What if Sir Henry decided I
+was not so stupid after all and put another jailor in my place? But
+now all is ready. The sentinels below have seen my wife visit me today
+and I took pains to let them believe she was dining in my room,
+whereas she slipped away when the guard was being changed. Now when
+you leave the prison with me, I have but to say that I am taking my
+good dame to the stage coach." Again he chuckled, half forcing Salomon
+into the calico dress. "Instead, we will meet her at the appointed
+place, you will slip off these flounces--she cautioned me that you
+should not tread upon them and tear them down, as she loves this frock
+dearly,--and seek your good friend, General McDougall, who commands
+the rebel forces in our neighborhood and will grant you protection,
+while my wife and I will hurry back to our little farm."
+
+"But your position here--" Haym fumbled with the unfamiliar buttons of
+the dress.
+
+"I do not care to remain here and have Sir Henry Clinton try me in his
+court," answered the other, simply. "So a week ago I handed in my
+resignation--my rheumatism cannot endure this prison dampness--my wife
+insists that unless I come home for the harvest, she will come to
+fetch me--and other strong proofs that I must leave the dear old
+Provost. And, fortunately, my friend, the noble gentleman who secured
+this post for me has fallen in battle, and no one else knows where to
+look for the stupid jailor who helped Haym Salomon to escape."
+
+"But, my friend, I cannot allow you to take such a risk for me,"
+protested Salomon. "And even if you are not punished--do you care to
+give up your post for my sake?"
+
+"I, too, have grown tired of this devil's business," answered the
+little jailor. "Even if you were to die tomorrow, I should give it up
+and go back to my little farm where I might feel myself an honest man
+again."
+
+Suddenly Haym sat down upon the bench, his mouth grim and stubborn. "I
+will not go. My name has always been spotless. But if I escape, there
+may be some who will believe that the charges brought against me are
+true, that I have acted as a secret agent for General Washington,
+endeavoring to burn the British warships and warehouses at his
+instigation. Whereas you know that my one crime was helping those few
+poor lads escape from their torture."
+
+"Will you stay here and argue until morning when the guards will take
+you below to let you swing for your folly!" muttered Jonas, now
+thoroughly exasperated. "You and I and the world know that not even
+Sir Henry himself believes the charges brought against you at your
+trial. It was only when that young Frenchman escaped two months ago
+and one of Sir Henry's ready spies betrayed you, that you were clapped
+into his cell to face charges in his court. I warned you then how it
+would be and you would not heed my words. Now let me save you before
+it is too late."
+
+"But my wife and little son," murmured Salomon, as the other adjusted
+the heavy shawl about his shoulders. "Who will care for them?"
+
+"You can send for them when you have found shelter. And if you stay
+and are hanged, who will protect them?" He pushed the large bonnet
+upon Salomon's head, nodding with satisfaction to see how it concealed
+his face. "Now, remember, say nothing and try to walk slowly--no, no,
+shorter steps! And put the basket on your arm." He stepped back to
+admire the result of his scheming. "Mr. Salomon," he said, seriously,
+"if I did not know that my good wife was waiting for me outside I
+would swear she stood before me. Come, take my arm,--remember, walk
+slowly--" and the two passed out into the sultry August night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Revolutionary War was over, and young Louis di Vernon, still very
+much of a boy despite the down upon his lip and the manly assurance
+achieved by almost seven years hard soldiering, leaned back in the
+shabby arm chair and looked questioningly at his host across the
+table. Since his escape from the old Provost, he had often heard tales
+of Haym Salomon's great wealth, the magnificent sums he had lent the
+government, his generosity toward the nation's unpaid representatives,
+especially his young friend Madison. And yet this man of almost
+fabulous wealth, this patriot who with his business partner, Robert
+Morris, had made it possible to feed and clothe Washington's starving
+and naked soldiers, this financier who had negotiated loans with
+Holland and France, now sat before him, meanly dressed, his brows
+wrinkled with care, his drooping shoulders too expressive of defeat
+for one who had helped his country win a glorious victory.
+
+"It is good to see you again," said Haym, slowly. "I have not
+forgotten you, but I thought you might have forgotten me." He coughed,
+a hard, dry cough, leaning his fast graying head upon his hand.
+
+"We are used to having our friends forget us," murmured his wife, who
+sat sewing beside the lamp. She was a brisk, dark-haired woman, a
+member of the famous Franks family which had served the country so
+well during the dark days of the Revolution. "Of the many youths my
+husband aided in prison, you are the first one who came to thank him
+for his service."
+
+"Nay, Rachel," her husband chided her gently. "I did not seek for
+thanks. And it was not those brave soldiers I tried to serve, but
+freedom." His tired eyes glowed with a warm light as he turned to
+Louis. "I was born in unhappy Poland, so it is not strange that I
+loved freedom with all my heart and with all my soul. And when I was
+in prison, no longer free to serve this country which had welcomed me
+so heartily, I thanked God that I was permitted to aid those who were
+fighting her battles and seeking to make her free before the world."
+
+"And after he escaped here to Philadelphia," added his wife, a note of
+pride in her voice, "he fought for the colonies just as surely as
+Colonel Franks upon the battlefield. You have heard of the vast sums
+of money he lent the bankrupt government--and without a bit of
+security, too."
+
+Haym held up his hand in protest. "What security did I need? If I
+could not trust my country, whom should I trust?" he asked her in
+quiet sincerity.
+
+She bent her dark head over the little garment she was mending, her
+lips curved a bit scornfully. "I try not to be impatient. I know that
+even though peace has come, commerce is still languishing; that it
+will take many, many months for the government to pay its debts. Yet
+it hurts me to see you so worried, so hampered because you lack
+capital to go on with your business." Her dark eyes sparkled with
+indignation. "You are only forty-five, Haym," she declared, almost
+fiercely, "and yet your many cares make you seem almost an old man."
+
+"I am glad to have been able to give my youth to my country," he
+answered. Then, turning to Louis di Vernon: "Do not think my wife too
+bitter? She has had sore trials," and he gently patted her work-worn
+hand. "I know it is not for herself she grieves, but she is troubled
+for me and for our little ones. And, in truth, things have grown dark
+for us of late. My business has suffered during the war and I was
+obliged to neglect it while I attended to affairs of state. And now
+that peace has come at last, I find that my old good fortune has
+deserted me."
+
+"If you had only kept the remnant of your fortune," sighed his wife,
+"the sixty-four thousand dollars you lent to Mr. Morris for his bank
+would have tided us over these evil times."
+
+"But I could not allow the National Bank to fail," protested Salomon.
+"Somehow," turning to his guest, "I have grown like the old
+philosopher of my people who was so unfortunate that he once declared
+that if he took to making shoes everyone would go barefoot, if he
+became a shroud maker, no one would die." He laughed softly, then grew
+suddenly grave. "The merchants to whom I have extended credit have
+failed. There have been losses at sea--" he shrugged, and became
+silent, his eyes grown strangely large in his thin white face, seeming
+to look into the far future. "Mr. Madison and my other friends will
+not forget me," he said slowly, "and my country in whose keeping I may
+have to leave my wife and infant children before long, will be glad to
+repay her debt and care for them." A strange look of peace swept over
+his tired face; it was well that his dimming eyes could not see the
+long years during which his country would forget to be grateful and to
+repay.
+
+A feeling half of pity, half of shame filled the young man's heart.
+"I--I am sorry," he stammered.
+
+"You need not pity me." Salomon smiled his old gentle smile. "I have
+been given a chance to serve the cause of freedom with my fortune; I
+have been of service to my own people, too, the Hebrews of
+Philadelphia, and it gladdens my heart to believe that my children's
+children will worship the God of our fathers here in this place in the
+synagogue I have helped to build. I do not think my life has been such
+a very great failure after all," he ended, naively. "And it is good to
+know that what I have done has borne fruit. That is why your coming
+here tonight to thank me has heartened me more than news of the safe
+arrival of those missing merchant-ships at port."
+
+Louis arose, his honest face red with shame. "I did not want to hurt
+you," he said, speaking with difficulty. "When I came here tonight and
+you both thought it was just to thank you before I set sail for
+France, I was ashamed to tell you the reason of my visit. For I am
+like the others; I would not have come to thank you for favors past;
+not knowing of your misfortune, I only came to ask new bounties; that
+is why I am ashamed."
+
+"Then why do you tell me now?" Salomon's voice had grown very tired.
+"I should have liked to believe that you were not here for favors."
+
+"I could not go away and have you believe a lie. You are too honest a
+man to lie to, Mr. Salomon. Are you sorry I told the truth?"
+
+"No. That takes the pain away." A long silence while the January wind
+howled outside. At last Haym spoke. "What did you wish of me--though
+now I may be unable to grant it."
+
+"I leave shortly for France," answered the young man, flushed beneath
+the other's quiet gaze. "Although I return a poor man, my betrothed
+has waited for me and I desired to buy a bit of land for my own that
+we might become householders as our parents were before us. I knew you
+would trust me and that is why I came to you, my one friend in
+America."
+
+"Now I am truly sorry for my losses," answered Salomon. "If I could
+only help you--but, perhaps, Mr. Morris--yes, I will give you a note
+to him, and though I am not prosperous today, he will be willing to
+trust me as your security."
+
+But Louis di Vernon shook his head. "I cannot think of it," he
+answered, stubbornly. "Do not insist, or I shall be sorry that I told
+you of my desires. Please have this visit as it should have been; to
+thank you for your great kindness to me; not to ask more favors."
+
+"As you will," answered Haym with a smile. "But you must not leave us
+without a little token for your betrothed." Going to the mantel piece,
+he took down a silver cup, quaintly carved, and slipped it into the
+young man's unwilling hand. "Nay, lad, take it, it is all I can give
+you--this and my blessing for your future." Again the wind shook the
+window pane. "It is a bitter night outside. We have no guest chamber,
+but if you care to sleep beside our fire----"
+
+"Nay, after Valley Forge a soldier is not afraid of the storm,"
+laughed the Frenchman. "And I cannot thank you for this--and all your
+kindness. But she is a woman and when I tell my Mairie, she will write
+you all the love and gratitude that is in our hearts." He bent over
+Mistress Salomon's hand with all the courtly breeding of his race.
+"It is only _Au revoir_ tonight, Madame, for I will try to see you
+again before I leave Philadelphia."
+
+He gathered his cloak about him and went out into the storm, leaving
+Salomon to meet his wife's reproachful eyes. "Yes, I know, heart's
+dearest, that I should not give silver cups to beggarly Frenchmen," he
+told her with a whimsical smile, "for who knows when we will have to
+pawn the little that remains of our silver. But until then--" he
+shrugged goodnaturedly, and a fit of coughing drowned the rest.
+
+Several days later young Louis di Vernon sat in a coffee house, his
+traveling bag and a bundle of toys and goodies for the little Salomon
+children at his feet. Over his cup he read the latest edition of the
+"Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly Advertiser," pausing to stare at a
+modest notice tucked in an obscure corner of the sheet. He put down
+his cup untasted and read it again with whitening lips: "On Thursday
+died Haym Salomon, a broker."
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE WATERS
+
+_A Story of the City of Refuge Planned by Mordecai Noah._
+
+
+The two children stood hand in hand in a corner of Mr. Mordecai Noah's
+handsome library in New York, both badly frightened, although the boy
+tried hard to appear at ease in his strange surroundings. They still
+wore the dress of their native Tunis; Hushiel in silken blouse and
+short black trousers, with mantle and fez such as Mohammedans wear,
+his little sister, Peninah, a quaint picture in her short jacket,
+baggy trousers and pointed cap. No wonder the old family servant, who
+had gasped when admitting them, had gone off to summon his master,
+declaring to himself that these visitors looked even more heathenish
+than the painted Indians who occasionally called upon Mr. Noah at his
+Buffalo home.
+
+"Do sit down, Peninah," suggested the boy in a half-whisper, too
+overawed by the elegant furnishings and long rows of books to speak
+out loud. He pointed to a tall, carved arm chair but Peninah shook her
+head and clung more tightly to his arm.
+
+"It's all so strange," she whispered back, "just like an old tale
+Nissim, the story teller, used to tell sometimes at home--all of it,
+the big ship, and the many people when we came on shore in New York
+and this room--" with a gesture towards the table on which stood a
+tea service of heavy silver. "He must be a prince to have such
+treasures. Aren't you afraid to speak to him when he comes in?"
+
+"A man is never afraid," answered twelve-year-old Hushiel, stoutly.
+"He may not remember me, but I am my father's son and he will do us
+kindness for his sake." He stopped suddenly as Mr. Mordecai Noah
+entered the room.
+
+The master of the house was about forty, with deep, kindly eyes and a
+heavy mane of black hair brushed back from his benevolent forehead. He
+carried himself with the dignity befitting an author and statesman who
+was, perhaps, the most distinguished Jew in America in 1825. Yet in
+spite of his touch of hauteur there was a real kindliness in the
+manner in which he held out his hands to the strangers and bade them
+welcome.
+
+"You have come a long way," he said, with a quick glance at their
+foreign garb. "Let me make you welcome to America." He drew them to
+one of the carved settles he had brought from England and seated
+himself in the great armchair before it, smiling at the quaint picture
+little Peninah made, her slippered feet dangling high above the floor.
+"And how can I serve you?" he asked graciously.
+
+Hushiel felt his shyness disappearing before the great man's courtesy.
+"We are from Tunis," he answered, "and you may remember me, though I
+was but a tiny lad when you were the American consul there and visited
+my father about ten years ago. My father was Rabbi Reuben Faitusi," he
+added, not a little disappointed as the loved name failed to awaken
+any memories in the eyes of the man before him.
+
+"I met so many rabbis while I was in the East," apologized Mr. Noah,
+"that the name means nothing to me for a moment. But if I were to meet
+your father again I am sure I should know him at once," he ended
+politely.
+
+"My father died six months ago," answered the boy, "my mother when she
+was born," and he nodded toward Peninah, who sat clutching his sleeve
+in her pretty bashfulness. "Before he died he told me how you visited
+our house and spoke long and bitterly of the persecution of our
+brethren which you had encountered through Europe and Africa on your
+travels. My father knew of what you spoke only too well, for the lot
+of our people has often been a harsh one in Tunis. And we have
+suffered for a long time." He drew himself up proudly. "My father's
+house are of the Tunsi, who some believe have been in the land for
+centuries--even before the First Temple was destroyed. And he told me
+what it meant for him to listen to the words of a stranger from a new
+land which was a land of hope for our ancient people."
+
+A satisfied smile played about Noah's lips. "Yes, he was like so many
+others," he nodded, "thirsty for the message of comfort I brought my
+brethren across the seas. For, as I told him, I dreamed even then that
+this America of mine would be a Land of Promise for the Jews over the
+entire earth and that I might be permitted to be the Messiah to lead
+them here."
+
+Hushiel tried not to look shocked. He had heard too many tales of the
+Messiah, the princely leader of the House of David, who would some day
+appear in all his glorious might to restore the Chosen People to their
+own country, not to wonder how even this powerful prince in Israel
+should dare to use his name so lightly. But his eyes sparkled at the
+memories his host's words had awakened.
+
+"My father spoke to me of his talk with you many times," he told Mr.
+Noah, "and how he dreamed that he might come to dwell in the city of
+refuge you planned for our people. And he promised to take me and
+her," with a gesture toward Peninah, who nodded vigorously. "But his
+eyes closed before he could behold our return. Year by year he had
+saved a little to make the journey; this he gave me and to it I added
+my mite that I had laid aside from my earnings as a mechanic; then I
+sold our household goods and came with Peninah to you that we might be
+among the first to enter your city, even as our father wished us to
+be."
+
+A strange look crept into Mr. Noah's eyes; a look of exultation and
+joy; he seemed for a moment like a man who sees a great hope fulfilled
+and is glad. "Your father had the faith of God in his heart," he said
+at last, "and you two are worthy of being called his children.
+Sometimes I myself have doubted whether I could forge my dream into
+reality. But when you come to me with your young and fearless hearts,
+trusting so in my mission, I must believe that I cannot fail. And you
+seem to have been sent here by a miracle. All through the ten years
+since I was consul to Tunis I have planned for a city of refuge for
+our people. Perhaps some day we will return to Palestine, but
+meanwhile--" he made a sweeping gesture--"meanwhile the virgin
+wilderness of this land awaits our people. Here we will build and
+plough; here we will launch our trading vessels--the Phoenicians of
+the New World." He had forgotten his listeners and spoke as though
+addressing a great multitude. "And others have shared my dreams. My
+good friend, Samuel Leggett, although a Christian, has seen my vision,
+and has aided me with his sympathy--and his gold." His dream-filled
+eyes actually twinkled and now he spoke simply with no thought of a
+vast audience to listen. "I am grateful for his sympathy, but his
+gold--with my own private fortune--helped me even more. With it I have
+purchased a great tract of land on the Niagara River for the site of
+our Jewish colony. Yes," he repeated, proudly, "I have purchased over
+two thousand acres of land on Grand Island. Persecuted Jews from all
+over the world will plant their farms there. And some day it will be
+one of the greatest commercial centers of the world, as well as a
+farming colony, for it lies close to the Great Lakes and opposite the
+new Erie Canal, through which our vessels loaded with the produce of
+our farms will sail to feed the nations."
+
+He paused for breath and Hushiel nodded, understanding but little the
+reason of his hosts' enthusiasm, but at least grasping the fact that
+the city of refuge of which his father had dreamed so long was about
+to be built.
+
+"And what will you call your city?" he ventured.
+
+"Ararat," answered the founder. "Some of my friends have tried to
+persuade me to name it after myself; this I would not do, but since I
+would have future generations know of my share in the building of the
+city, I shall call it Ararat, which they may interpret as the city of
+Noah. But above all would I remind all that hear its name that it is a
+city of refuge, even as the mountain Ararat was a place of safety
+after the flood which destroyed the earth in the days of Noah of old.
+Our people, tossed for so long upon the seas of bitterness and hatred,
+will rest here as the ark rested upon the mountain Ararat when the
+waters of the flood subsided."
+
+"But will only Jews be welcome there?"
+
+"It will be as open as Abraham's tent to every wanderer who seeks
+shelter there," replied Mordecai Noah with a magnificent gesture.
+"Especially to our brethren, the Indians. For I firmly believe," he
+went on, not pausing to think that the boy from across the seas could
+not possibly understand him, "I firmly believe that the red men are
+descended from the lost tribes of Israel and are ready to extend to us
+the hand of brotherhood and forsake their own gods for the God of our
+fathers. You have never seen our Indian brothers?" Hushiel shook his
+head, but Peninah, thoroughly worn out by her journey and the long
+talk which she could not comprehend, had fallen asleep and could not
+answer. "Then you will see them for the first time at the dedication
+ceremony of our city of Ararat," he promised graciously.
+
+"And when will the city be dedicated?" The boy's tone was eager.
+
+"Next week. And I will take both of you to Buffalo with me that you
+may see the ceremonies. You see you have come in good time," answered
+Mr. Mordecai Noah.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"But I won't go in these clothes," objected Peninah hotly.
+
+For almost a week she and her brother had been guests in Mr. Noah's
+household, and every day one or another of his Christian or Jewish
+friends had come to visit them. They were very wonderful people, these
+Americans, thought Peninah, and most wonderful of all were the little
+girls of her own age, with their full skirts and dainty bonnets. True,
+they had never seen the Sahara Desert or crossed the mysterious ocean,
+yet she envied them their pretty clothes, feeling outlandishly queer
+in her pointed cap and baggy trousers. Mr. Noah had been very kind to
+her; he had brought her several pretty trinkets and a box of
+sweetmeats, almost as good as those one could buy in the bazaar at
+home, she told Hushiel--but on one point he was firm and nothing could
+move him.
+
+"Tomorrow will be a great day for every Jew upon the face of the
+earth," he had told the children the evening before the day set for
+the dedication ceremonies for which he had brought them to Buffalo. "I
+should like to purchase a little present for each of you, some token
+that you may show your children some day when you tell them of the
+founding of Ararat, my city. What shall it be?" he asked, smiling into
+their eager faces.
+
+"You have given us too much already, more than we can ever repay,"
+protested Hushiel, but his modest answer was quite drowned by
+Peninah's shrill:
+
+"I want a new dress and a bonnet with strings and slippers like the
+little American girls wear!"
+
+"Peninah! Aren't you ashamed to ask for so much," chided her brother.
+
+"And I want a little black silk bag to carry tomorrow," went on
+Peninah, unabashed. "And I think I'd like blue ribbons on the bonnet."
+
+Mr. Noah smiled indulgently, but he shook his head. "I will get you an
+outfit such as little American girls wear," he promised, kindly, "but
+you must not wear it tomorrow."
+
+Peninah stared at him. "But I want them for tomorrow," she protested.
+"All the little girls I have met here in your house are coming
+tomorrow and if I am dressed as they are, they will not stare at me as
+though I were a dancing girl at a fair. I'm going to take off these,"
+she tugged angrily at the bright beads about her neck, "and these,"
+and she gave a defiant twitch to her hated Oriental trousers.
+
+"Your clothes are very pretty," soothed Mr. Noah, "but if you prefer
+to dress like the people of our country, I will buy you everything you
+need. Only tomorrow you must wear the clothes you wore at home--even
+if the people stare."
+
+"But why?--I look so different----"
+
+"It is just because your clothes are so different," explained
+Mordecai Noah patiently, "that I want you to wear them. My dream is to
+have our city a refuge for the Jews of all the nations of the earth.
+Many people of Buffalo have heard your story, but they have not seen
+you. When they see you and Hushiel in your native dress, it will
+impress them greatly as they realize that even the children of the
+lands far across the sea have sought my city and long to make their
+home there. You understand, don't you?"
+
+Hushiel nodded, but Peninah stamped her small, slippered foot angrily.
+"I won't go if I have to wear these horrid clothes which make people
+stare at me," she declared angrily, and ran from the room, crying as
+she went. Mr. Noah seemed really disturbed and was about to call her
+back, but Hushiel only laughed a little and shrugged at her anger.
+
+"'The camel wanted to have horns, so he lost his ears for his
+greediness'," he quoted in Hebrew. "It is hard to satisfy a woman.
+Just let her have her cry and she will be as gentle as a lamb in the
+morning."
+
+But Peninah was decidedly sulky at breakfast the next morning and as
+the hour to attend the dedication ceremony drew near she grew actually
+violent in declaring that she wouldn't leave the house to be "a show
+thing for all those strange people to look at!" "They can look at you,
+Hushiel, all they want to," she exclaimed, "but I won't go out into
+the streets until I have new clothes!" She folded her small arms
+defiantly and glared angrily at her brother.
+
+Hushiel, usually patient and long-suffering, was now really angry. He
+grasped her shoulders and shook her so energetically that her bright
+beads rattled merrily together. "Now listen to me," he began sternly,
+as he released her, and she stood gasping for breath, staring at him
+with eyes wide with hurt astonishment. "I've been listening to your
+foolish words till I'm tired. So you must listen to me now and obey me
+for I take our father's place in our household, don't I?" She nodded
+sullenly, for she knew that in their native country a lad as young as
+Hushiel would be considered grown to manhood. "If he were here today
+he would command you to dry your foolish tears and come to the place
+where they are celebrating the founding of our new city. If he who has
+given us so many gifts and welcomes us to his home desires you to go
+there in your native dress, you will obey him. Else you will have to
+deal with me," and he scowled so fiercely, that even the dauntless
+Peninah was a little frightened. "Besides," he ended, craftily, "you
+are so anxious to see the Indians and Mr. Noah himself has promised
+that there will be red men at the great festival today."
+
+With a shrug of elaborate carelessness which didn't deceive her
+brother in the least, Peninah dried her eyes and began to smooth her
+rumpled attire. "I'll go," she said, indifferently, "but not because I
+have to obey you. It's just because I do want to see those Indians."
+
+Peninah's wish was gratified, for there was a goodly sprinkling of red
+men at the dedication ceremonies of the city of Ararat held in Buffalo
+on that bright September day so long ago. So many citizens had
+expressed their desire to be present that it was discovered that it
+would be impossible to secure enough boats to convey them to Grand
+Island. So, although a monument was erected on the spot where the city
+of Ararat was to be built, the dedication ceremonies were held in the
+large Episcopalian church of Buffalo, which was soon crowded with
+those who either wished Mr. Noah success in his strange undertaking or
+were drawn by idle curiosity to witness the festival.
+
+Neither of the children from Tunis ever forgot that day. First there
+was the long and impressive procession down the main streets of
+Buffalo, led by a band of musicians playing stirring melodies all the
+while. After the musicians came companies of soldiers, many of whom
+had distinguished themselves in the war of 1812, in which conflict
+Noah had received the rank of major; behind them, garbed in their
+picturesque regalia, walked several companies of Masons, for Mr. Noah
+was a prominent member of that organization; and then came Mordecai
+Noah himself, wearing a magnificent robe of crimson silk trimmed with
+bands of ermine. Behind the Governor and Judge of Israel, as he styled
+himself, followed men prominent in the affairs of the city and state,
+a distinguished company, all eager to show their interest in the
+proposed Jewish city of refuge. At last the procession filed slowly
+into the church. The dim, rich light struggling through the stained
+windows fell like an enchanted robe upon those who had marched and
+those who were gathered there; it was a picture the like of which has
+never been seen in America since that day.
+
+The two children from across the seas sat wide-eyed as they looked
+about them. The citizens of Buffalo, the richly garbed officials and
+soldiers who had marched in the procession, above all, the Indians in
+their feathers and blankets and beads, stern-faced and tall and
+slender, seemed people from another world. For a moment Hushiel was
+troubled: would his father think it right for him to attend a
+Christian church even on such a day? Then he forgot his scruples as
+Mordecai Noah, still in his crimson mantle, advanced on the platform
+to speak to the people. The boy looked from his regal figure on the
+Christian clergymen in their dark, plain robes, and his heart thrilled
+with pride. Mordecai Noah, he thought, stood head and shoulders above
+all other men, as Israel, under his wise guidance, would some day
+stand above the nations. He heard not a word of the long oration that
+followed. Instead he dreamed of the city which would arise on Grand
+Island, a city as mighty as Jerusalem of old, and in his dream he saw
+the nations of the earth entering its gates to pay tribute to its
+crimson-clad king. So he happily built his city of the clouds until
+the ceremonies were almost over and a salute of twenty-four guns made
+little Peninah start with terror and cling to him, crying aloud in her
+fright.
+
+And now came busy, happy days for Hushiel and Peninah. Peninah,
+dressed "just like a little American girl," as she proudly told
+herself a dozen times a day, was sent to a school. But Mr. Noah,
+really interested in Hushiel, undertook to teach him himself,
+delighting in the boy's fine mind, so well trained by his long
+Talmudic studies with his father. As soon as he learned to read and
+write English, the lad proved to be of great assistance to his
+benefactor, copying Mr. Noah's manuscripts for the press, for that
+gentleman was an eminent journalist and one of the most popular
+dramatists of his day, and, in time, even assisting him with his
+foreign correspondence.
+
+The letters from abroad grew extremely heavy, for directly after the
+dedication ceremonies, Mr. Noah, as self-appointed Judge of Israel,
+sent a proclamation to all of the leading Jewish communities of the
+world, declaring that Ararat was established and inviting citizens of
+every country to come and make their home there. Those who were
+content in their adopted lands, he wrote, might remain in their homes,
+and he begged all Jewish soldiers in foreign armies to remember that
+the Jew must be true to the obligation of the state in which he lives.
+But he urged every loyal Jew who longed for the restoration of
+Israel's glory to pay a yearly tax of three shekels (ancient Jewish
+coin worth about a quarter in our currency) and to appoint deputies in
+their respective countries who would elect a new ruler or Judge of the
+Jewish state every fourth year. And that the new state should be
+thoroughly democratic, Mordecai Noah appointed influential Jews in
+every important Jewish community to act as his commissioners in
+governing the city of Ararat.
+
+To Hushiel the proclamation seemed all that could be desired and he
+waited eagerly for the warm response he felt must come from every Jew
+to whom Noah appealed. But to his great surprise, the post brought
+letter after letter either of ridicule or denunciation; even the Jews
+who lived in the countries of darkest persecution refused to listen to
+his offer of a home in the new Jewish colony. True, many of them
+longed to emigrate to America, the land which had been a place of
+refuge to their brothers for so many years. Others dreamed of a return
+to Palestine, willing to live there as exiles in their homeland until
+the coming of the Messiah brought Israel's freedom. Letter after
+letter from across the seas refused to aid Noah in his dream for
+Jewish emancipation. "We are happy in our adopted land," wrote one.
+"When God in His mercy sends the Messiah, then will He lead Israel
+back to the Promised Land, Palestine, and not before," wrote another.
+While the Jews of America, in their pride as American citizens, were
+as swift as their brethren abroad to ridicule Noah's plans for Ararat,
+denouncing them as impious or impractical.
+
+But the boy's faith in the project never wavered. He did not venture
+to offer his master sympathy for his disappointment, but in his shy,
+boyish way, he did manage to assure Noah again and again that he still
+believed in the city of refuge and longed to dwell there. And Noah
+never failed to smile at his half-uttered assurances, although he
+never answered them directly. Once he kindly placed his hand upon the
+boy's shoulder and Hushiel felt as proud as a young squire whom his
+master had dubbed knight.
+
+Gradually the correspondence concerning Ararat diminished and finally
+it ceased altogether. Mordecai Noah made no comment; there was still
+plenty of work for Hushiel with the newspaper articles; he also copied
+portions of the Book of Jasher which Mr. Noah was translating from the
+Hebrew. So the two labored together day after day, but neither even
+mentioned the dream that had called Hushiel across the seas.
+
+"I am going to Washington on business," his master informed Hushiel
+one morning as they sat in his study, ready to begin work on the day's
+tasks. "I may be gone for some time. You have been working hard and
+faithfully," he added kindly, "and you deserve a holiday. Would you
+care to go to Washington with me?"
+
+Hushiel answered with difficulty, his eyes seeking the floor, for
+suddenly a daring idea had captured his brain. "You are very kind," he
+stammered, "but--if I might--may I spend my holiday as I please, if I
+am back at my tasks in time?"
+
+"Surely." Noah's hand sought his wallet. "Here is money. Give Peninah
+a little treat, too, and do not hurry back to your desk too soon. When
+you are ready for work again, you will find plenty of manuscript which
+I will leave for you to copy during my absence. I think I will be gone
+a fortnight."
+
+"My holiday will not last that long," answered the boy, turning back
+to his papers. "And, please sir, do not mention this to Peninah. I
+will buy her some pleasure with the money you have just given me. But
+I must have my holiday alone."
+
+So Hushiel was alone when he stood before the monument of brick and
+wood which had been erected on Grand Island, the proposed site of the
+city of Ararat. To the lad, unused to the wilderness of America, the
+journey down the river had been a fascinating one. Now he stood alone
+in the vast silence, broken only by the roar of the Falls in the
+distance. How long he stood here before the pile of bricks and wood
+Hushiel never knew. When he tried to recall the scene years
+afterwards, he pictured clearly a slender, dark-skinned boy lying upon
+the ground, weeping bitterly as he listened to the rumblings of
+Niagara which seemed to mock him as he grieved for the city which had
+perished at its birth. For now he realized without a word from
+Mordecai Noah that the dream had failed--that his people must wait a
+little longer for a real Messiah to lead them into the Land of
+Promise. Bitterest of all, even more bitter than the breaking of his
+dream, was the realization that Mordecai Noah, for all his lofty
+ideals, his generous motives, was not of the stuff of which leaders
+are made. His voice, no matter how eloquent, would never be heeded
+should he again seek to call the wandering children of Israel
+together. And thinking of these things, the boy wept like a little
+child.
+
+Years later, when the monument on Grand Island had fallen into decay,
+Hushiel saw the cornerstone of the dream city, Ararat, displayed in
+one of the rooms of the Buffalo Historical Society. He was no longer
+a sensitive boy, yet the tears sprang to his eyes as he re-read the
+old inscription which you may still read if you visit the Society's
+rooms today: "_Shema Yisroel, Adonoi Elohenu, Adonoi Echod_ (Hear, O
+Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One). Ararat, a City of Refuge
+for the Jews, Founded by Mr. M. Noah in the month Tishri, 5586, Sept.,
+1825, and in the 50th year of American Independence."
+
+
+
+
+THREE AT GRACE
+
+_The Story of the First Jewish Settler in Alabama._
+
+
+Colonel Hawkins, the Indian agent for the government at Pole Cat
+Springs, Alabama, in 1804, leaned across the pine table to extend a
+cordial hand to his visitor. Abram Mordecai, who stood before him,
+although almost fifty, gave one the impression of a much younger man.
+Lean and lithe as a panther, with shaggy black hair and keen eyes, his
+distinctly Jewish features were so tanned and weather-beaten that he
+looked far more the Indian than the Jew. He nodded gayly to his
+employer before he flung himself into a chair, his gun-stock between
+his knees, his great brown hands clasped behind his head. As he sat
+there dressed in the buckskin shirt and trousers of his half-civilized
+Indian neighbors, every free movement of his large body suggesting his
+life in the wilderness, the Jewish adventurer presented a perfect
+picture of the pioneer of his day.
+
+"I have come, Colonel Hawkins," he began in his usual abrupt manner,
+"to ask your help in building a cotton gin. Yes," as the other showed
+surprise, "I know the enterprise seems a strange one for a rover like
+me to suggest, and, perhaps, a foolish undertaking in the wilderness.
+Yet the wilderness must pass and we must build now for the days to
+come."
+
+"Go on, Mordecai," encouraged his chief. "What are your plans?"
+
+"I know how eager you are to civilize the Indians in our region and
+teach them the arts of peace," went on Mordecai. "Thus far we have
+done nothing but trade with them for pelties and healing barks and
+oils. But could we not have the squaws raise the cotton and bring it
+down the river in their canoes and prepare it in our gin for the
+market in New Orleans?"
+
+"Good." Hawkins nodded approvingly. "First we must gain permission of
+the Hickory Ground Indians for the erection of our gin, for it will
+not be wise to risk their enmity at the outset. But there is not
+another gin in the state. Where shall we find a pattern; where shall
+we get the workmen to fashion one for us; or the needed tools?"
+
+"I have thought of that," Abram Mordecai told him. "There are two Jews
+of Georgia, Lyon and Barrett, who have both the tools and the skill
+for the task. I met Lyon when we were both young men serving in the
+army under General Washington. You can rely upon him for faithful
+service."
+
+A little smile curved the agent's lips. "You Jews!" he exclaimed. "Is
+there any enterprise in which you have not had a hand? Even back to
+the building of the pyramids in old Egypt! It is like a Jew to plan
+the first cotton gin in Alabama--and to bring two of his race to build
+it."
+
+"We are indeed builders," answered Mordecai a little dryly, "but not
+always for ourselves." He rose. "Shall I send for them?"
+
+"The sooner the better. And it will be good to meet your fellow
+Hebrews again, eh, Mordecai?"
+
+Abram Mordecai, already at the door, turned a moment. His eyes, a
+striking hazel in the tan of his roughened face, grew wistful for a
+moment. "I am more Indian than Jew, more savage than white man," he
+answered gravely. "Perhaps it is a pity," and he was gone.
+
+Mordecai, the child of the wilderness, where the struggle against
+savage and beast of prey sharpen the wits and teach the pioneer the
+need for rapid decisions, lost no time in executing his commission. As
+soon as word could reach Lyon, he informed his old comrade of the work
+he had in mind for him. The next post told Mordecai that the two men
+with their tools, gin saws and other materials loaded upon pack
+horses, were already on their way to Alabama. He waited eagerly for
+their arrival. The gin meant more to him than a source of revenue,
+were he successful in the cotton market. For, as Hawkins had observed,
+the Jew was not content to be a mere trader and hunter, like so many
+adventurers of the back woods. He longed to build, to create something
+lasting even in that ever-changing wilderness. And perhaps, mingled
+with his impatience, was a queer longing to see his own again, not
+merely white men like Colonel Hawkins, but Jews such as he had known
+before leaving his native Pennsylvania so many years ago. He smiled to
+find himself actually counting the days before he could expect Lyon
+and Barrett to arrive.
+
+They came at last one evening near sunset, two brown-skinned rovers
+in half-savage dress affected by the backwoodsmen of that day; Lyon,
+grave and silent, Barrett, with a boy's laugh, despite the sprinkling
+of gray in his curly hair. Mordecai stood at the door of his hut to
+greet them. A little behind him, humbly respectful like all the women
+of her nation to her lord and master, stood a squaw clad in a blanket
+with strings of beads woven in the long, dark braids of her hair. Her
+bright, black eyes sparkled with interest as she surveyed the
+strangers; but as they came nearer, she turned quickly and went back
+into the hut, where she continued to prepare the evening meal. But
+Mordecai advanced toward the travellers, his hand extended in welcome.
+
+"_Shalom Aleichem_," he began, his tongue faltering a little over the
+old Hebrew greeting he had not used for so long. "I am glad you have
+come at last."
+
+"_Aleichem Shalom_," answered Lyon. "It is long since we have met,
+Abram Mordecai." He took his old comrade's outstretched hand and
+indicated Barrett with a curt nod. "My friend," he said, briefly. "He
+will help us build the gin."
+
+"You are both welcome," their host assured them. "Becky," he called,
+and the Indian woman appeared at the door, "unload the horses and bed
+them for the night with ours," and he indicated a roughly constructed
+barn a little way from the hut which it so resembled. "But first bring
+a pail of fresh water from the spring that these gentlemen may wash
+after their journey."
+
+Becky, still devouring the newcomers with her eyes, curiously, like
+those of an inquisitive squirrel, caught up a wooden bucket that stood
+by the open door and started down the winding path that led to the
+spring. "My wife," explained Mordecai, pretending not to see the look
+of surprise with which his former friend Lyon greeted his statement.
+"Yes," half in apology, "I know it seems strange to you. But for so
+many years I felt myself a part of the Creek nation, that when I was
+ill with malarial fever and she nursed me back to health, I was glad
+to lessen my loneliness and make her my wife according to the customs
+of her people. Yet," and he smiled a little bitterly, "yet, strange as
+it may seem, I still remember that I am a Jew."
+
+He led them into the little cabin with its one window and floor of
+clay. At one end stood a rude fireplace made of bricks where a huge
+kettle swung Indian-fashion above the logs. At the other end of the
+room several heavy blankets indicated a bed, the only furniture being
+a few rough chairs, a table and an old trunk half covered by a gayly
+striped blanket such as Indian women weave. "A rough place, even for
+the wilderness," confessed Mordecai, "but I dare attempt no better. Of
+late, the Indians once so friendly, have grown surly and suspicious;
+they rightly fear that the white man will wrench the wilderness from
+them. Especially Towerculla, a neighboring chief, who hates the ways
+of the whites and has been murmuring against me ever since he has
+heard that a cotton gin will be erected through my agency. So who
+knows when I will be driven from this place by the red men--providing
+that they allow me to escape with my life."
+
+"And have you no white neighbors?" asked Barrett, who had seated
+himself upon the trunk, where he sat loosening his dusty leggins.
+
+"There is 'Old Milly'." Mordecai's hazel eyes twinkled a little. "She
+is the wife of an English soldier who deserted from the army during
+the Revolution. After her husband's death she took up her abode here.
+She is a woman of strong and resolute character and has considerable
+power over the Indians of this district, who stand greatly in awe of
+her. She lately married a red man and is really a great person in our
+little community, for she owns several slaves and many horses and
+cattle. Tomorrow I will introduce you to my only white neighbor. But
+here is Becky with the water," as the squaw entered with the brimming
+pail. "Wash the dust from your faces that we may sit and eat, for you
+must be nearly famished."
+
+The travelers, having washed in the wooden basin that stood on one of
+the chairs and shaken some of the dust from their garments, now came
+eagerly enough to the table, which the silent Becky had prepared for
+them. Upon the bare boards she had set several mugs and heavy crockery
+bowls, pewter forks and a large, steaming vessel of the stew which she
+had taken from the fire, as well as several cakes made of corn flour
+and cooked in the ashes. Such fare was familiar enough to the
+pioneers, but the two guests could not help staring at the book that
+lay at each plate, a worn _Sidur_ (prayer book), the ancient Hebrew
+characters looking strangely foreign in the primitive forests of
+America. Abram Mordecai saw the two men exchange glances and flushed a
+little beneath his tan.
+
+"A foolish thought of mine," he murmured. "When I left my father's
+house in Pennsylvania I carried one of these in my pack, wrapped in
+the _talith_ (praying shawl), he had brought with him from Germany.
+And later I found the two others in the bundle of a Jewish peddlar
+murdered by the Indians. The Indian agent at St. Mary's sent me to
+ransom him and several other captives taken by the Creeks, but I came
+too late. Somehow, I could not bear to throw them away or destroy
+them. They have been with me in all my wanderings and more than once
+when I thought it about time for the fall holy days have I read the
+prayers and wished that I might have a few of my brethren with me to
+observe them aright. And tonight--" for a moment the confident,
+self-reliant adventurer seemed as embarrassed as a bashful child, "and
+tonight I hoped that since there would be three of us at grace, we
+might read the benedictions together--if you care to--and I would know
+how it feels to be a Jew again."
+
+Barrett laughed, his hearty school boy laugh, as he flung himself
+unceremoniously into a chair beside the table. "It's many a day since
+I've said or heard a _brocha_ (blessing)," he said, "but I'll go
+through it without any book, thank you."
+
+Lyon said nothing, as he took the place Mordecai assigned him at the
+foot of the table, but there was a tender look about his grave mouth.
+Perhaps he realized how difficult it had been for Mordecai to confess
+his loneliness for the customs of his people; but, according to his
+wont, he said nothing.
+
+Smiling almost childishly, Mordecai passed a bowl of water to each of
+his guests that they might wash their hands, which they did, murmuring
+the blessing as they did so. Then, taking his place at the head of the
+table, he poured water over his own hands, saying the Hebrew
+benediction as he wiped them upon a faded red napkin which lay beside
+his _Sidur_. Somehow, after his brief confession, he felt ashamed to
+tell his guests that the napkin had belonged to his mother and had
+rested beside the neglected _Sidur_ for so many years. Then, breaking
+a bit from the bread and handing it to each of the men, he repeated
+the blessing for which, although he had not recited it for so many
+years, he need no prompting from the worn black book beside his plate.
+
+"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who bringest
+forth bread from the earth," he said in Hebrew.
+
+Becky, as her husband called her, stood in the background as silent as
+a bronze statute until the little ceremony was over. If she was
+impressed by the strangeness of it all, she gave no sign. For so many
+of the customs of her husband's alien race were strange to her that
+she had long ago ceased to wonder or desire any explanation. Now at a
+sign from Mordecai, she took away the bowl of water, and, filling a
+plate with the savoury stew, took it to the corner of the hut, here,
+crouched upon the blankets, she ate her supper, quite content to
+watch the white strangers from a distance.
+
+Mordecai served his guests, then himself, and over the stew and corn
+bread the men exchanged stories of their experiences in the
+wilderness. The host told a little of his own adventures since leaving
+the east, of his life as a trader with the Indians, of the peace
+treaty he had brought about with the Chickasaw nation, of his journeys
+south to New Orleans and Mobile, his furs and medicinal barks piled
+high in the barge with no companions but the painted savages to assist
+him. A life of highly-colored adventure with variety enough to satisfy
+any spirit, but even now Mordecai was growing restless and longed for
+another enterprise to occupy him after the cotton gin should be
+completed.
+
+Then, the meal being over, Mordecai, with the same shamefaced
+bashfulness he had shown when speaking of the _Sidurim_, turned the
+pages of the book, saying almost wistfully: "I know that tonight is
+not a festival or Sabbath with us, gentlemen, but if you would care to
+go over the psalm with me----"
+
+"We've been waiting a long time for this and we'll give good measure,"
+laughed little Barrett, but his eyes did not jest as Mordecai in the
+quaint old sing-song of the synagogue began "When the Lord turned
+again the captivity of Zion" and Lyon gravely followed.
+
+"And now," Mordecai's face fairly glowed with pleasure, "now we will
+have the special grace, since there are three of us at the table."
+
+"Let us say grace," he began, with hardly a look at the Hebrew.
+
+"Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth and forever,"
+responded his guests.
+
+"With the permission of those present," went on the host, "we will
+bless Him of whose bounty we have partaken."
+
+"Blessed be He of whose bounty we have partaken," answered the others,
+"and through whose goodness we live."
+
+As Mordecai repeated the Hebrew phrases, learned in his almost
+forgotten _Cheder_ (Hebrew School) days, a great longing came upon him
+and the tears coursed down his cheeks. To return again to this home,
+to keep the customs of his people and to die at last with Jewish
+friends about him and the Hebrew's declaration of faith upon his lips!
+But, as he closed the book, his eyes glanced about the little room and
+they grew dark with pain. The gun standing in the corner, the furs
+drying upon the wall, Becky crouching upon the blankets--all spoke to
+him of a life he had lived too long to exchange for the quiet
+existence of which he sometimes dreamed. He rose, and, with an abrupt
+gesture, pointed to a shaggy robe before the fire place.
+
+"I have no better bed to offer you," he said, "but I know you are not
+used to a soft couch. You must be tired from your journey. Becky will
+tend to your horses so you had better sleep now, that tomorrow we may
+start out early and visit Colonel Hawkins. He would see you before you
+begin work on the cotton gin."
+
+The cotton gin, the first to be built in Alabama, was completed in due
+time, and Barrett and Lyons, their pack horses again loaded with their
+tools, were ready to return to Georgia. If Mordecai felt any pain at
+having his co-religionists depart, he was skilful in concealing it.
+For, after his confidence over the supper table, he had slipped back
+into his stoical reserve and not even the taciturn Lyon was more
+silent or chary of speech in anything that did not directly concern
+the business in hand. So it was merry little Barrett who alone
+mentioned the occasion that for a moment had brought the strangers of
+the wilderness together and had made them brothers.
+
+"We'll be coming back again when we want a taste of Becky's good
+stew--and a blessing afterwards," he jested as he swung himself into
+his saddle and reached down to shake hands with Mordecai.
+
+"Or to build another gin if the Indians do not molest this one and
+drive me off," answered Mordecai lightly, but the jest lingered in his
+mind. His life among the superstitious savages, his solitary hours in
+the wilderness, had helped to tinge his shrewd, practical mind with a
+strong mysticism. He tried to dismiss the matter; but, as he walked
+back to his hut that evening, Barrett's light words haunted him and
+gave him no rest. "Perhaps," he muttered, "perhaps, before my life is
+over, we will meet again and there will be three of us at grace."
+
+But his fancies fled and his dreamy face grew hard and alert as he
+came to the clearing before his hut. There, in the midst of his
+Indian followers, all armed with long poles, stood Chief Towerculla,
+threatening Becky. The squaw had placed herself in the door of the
+hut, where she stood with folded arms, listening to the Chief's angry
+threats. If she felt any fear, there was no trace of it in her
+expressionless face. Nor did she seem relieved when Mordecai pushed
+between her and the angry Indian and demanded what business had
+brought him there. She merely shrugged a little, hitched up her
+buckskin skirt and resumed her task of pounding corn between two
+stones at the door of the hut, appearing to take no interest in the
+quarrel that followed. For like a good squaw, she did not think it
+seemly to interfere in her husband's business affairs.
+
+"And now, Towerculla," began Mordecai in the Indian tongue which he
+spoke fluently. "Why do you come here and seek to frighten my squaw in
+my absence? And why have you brought your men with you?"
+
+The Chief grunted in disgust. "And why do you bring the pale face here
+to build?" he answered Mordecai question for question. "Our squaws are
+well satisfied to work in the fields, to make oil from the hickory
+nuts, to weave blankets. But you would have them sell you cotton to
+make you rich; you would build a store and other white men would be
+greedy to trade with our women and build other gins and other
+stores--and soon there would be many of your people while we--" he
+waved his hand toward his warriors, "we children of the red men would
+be driven further into the wilderness. You have already driven us too
+far, you white men. I am willing to spare you for the sake of 'Old
+Milly,' whom we do not fear, for she is one of us. And she has pleaded
+for you more than once. So I will allow you and your squaw to depart
+in peace. By tomorrow morning leave for some other place--for it is
+not good to dwell here any longer."
+
+For a moment Mordecai was too astonished to answer. Then he laughed
+boldly into the Indian's angry face. Towerculla sprang for him, but
+Mordecai swiftly stepped aside, and crouching, sprung upon the Chief
+and struck him to the ground. For a minute the two struggled together.
+Then the Indians fell upon Mordecai and released Towerculla, who rose
+from the dust, his face terrible in his anger. Mordecai struggled in
+vain against the blows of Towerculla's followers. As he sank to the
+ground overpowered, he caught himself murmuring, "They cannot kill me,
+until we three say grace together again," even while he longed for
+death to cut short the agony which was beginning to wrack every limb
+of his cruelly beaten body. Then out of the mist of red which seemed
+to swim before his eyes, a merciful black cloud descended and he knew
+nothing more until he regained consciousness and found himself in "Old
+Milly's" cabin, with Becky, still calm of face and quiet of voice
+bathing his wounds with cool water from the spring.
+
+"What has happened?" he asked, trying to rise, but falling back
+moaning in his pain.
+
+"Old Milly," a tall, sharp-faced woman, who sat weaving a basket as
+skillfully as any squaw, answered him. "Towerculla would have slain
+you, had not Becky brought me in time. He is not a good enemy to have,
+Abram Mordecai. When you are stronger, you must take his advice and go
+away. The Indians did not burn the barn, so your horses are safe, but
+the house was in flames before I could reach it and persuade
+Towerculla to leave you in peace."
+
+Becky rose and walked to the table. Returning to where her husband
+lay, she placed in his hand three books with worn black covers and a
+faded red napkin. "I ran and got these when I saw they were destroying
+our cabin," she told him. "I knew you had kept them long; that they
+were dear to you as the gods of our people are to us--like a charm,
+maybe, to keep death away. And perhaps, when the white men come again,
+you will want to have them on the table and sing."
+
+For the moment, Mordecai forgot that Becky was only a squaw,
+undeserving, according to the custom of her people, either thanks or
+praise. "You are a very good wife," he said, gently, "and I will buy
+you real gold earrings with the first money I earn from the cotton
+gin." And since he was so weak, neither woman dared to tell him for
+several days that the vengeance of the Indians had extended to the gin
+house, which now lay a heap of black ruins hear the river.
+
+Broken in body and ruined in fortune, Mordecai accompanied by the
+faithful Becky, bade farewell to Colonel Hawkins and journeyed further
+into the wilderness. For the Indian agent prudently refused to erect
+a second gin while the Indians still planned to injure Mordecai, and
+the adventurer himself felt that it would be hopeless to seek to gain
+the friendship of the embittered Chief. Trader and trapper, he led his
+solitary existence in the south, with no companionship but Becky's,
+until her death left him entirely alone.
+
+He had regained his former vigor by this time and sometimes dreamed of
+returning to his boyhood home. But from the pioneer towns springing up
+wherever he passed, he knew that a new civilization was rising in
+America; that he was of the generation that must pass away as surely
+as the Indian and he realized that he would feel sadly out of place in
+the surroundings that he had known as a boy. Yet, dreamer that he was,
+he never ceased to picture himself, a sober stay-at-home citizen,
+living out the last years of his life in communion with his fellow
+Jews, who had never left their quiet firesides. Nor in all his
+wanderings did he ever part with the three _Sidurim_ and the faded red
+napkin. For as he grew older, the fantastic notion grew ever stronger
+that before he died he would again say grace with the builders of his
+cotton gin.
+
+Almost a century old, he wandered back at last to Montgomery county,
+seeking the very spot where his hut had stood before Chief Towerculla
+had driven him away. Now the settlement of Dudlyville, so close at
+hand, made him feel cramped and uncomfortable. Colonel Hawkins had
+long since left Pole Cat Springs; Chief Towerculla, driven away by
+the white men he had always feared, was dead; "Old Milly" no longer
+lived in her savage kingdom with her husband and her slaves.
+
+But he felt too tired to travel further; perhaps he realized that no
+matter where he went he would feel lonely as the survivor of another
+day and generation. So he built a tiny cabin for himself, even putting
+together some crude furniture. Here he lived, never seeing a human
+face unless he walked to the village to secure supplies, which the
+settlers, vaguely touched by his loneliness, never failed to press
+upon him. He talked to them sometimes of the days before the
+wilderness had been conquered, speaking too, of the first cotton gin,
+which the Indians had destroyed. "I love the spot," he used to say,
+"but it is growing too crowded; yes," with a shake of his white head,
+"too crowded for one who needs plenty of fresh air to breathe. Next
+spring I must journey on." But when spring came, he would wait until
+fall, and again through the long winter. For his old ambition had left
+him and though his heart still wandered afar through the forests, his
+feet were too weary to follow it.
+
+But one evening he felt strangely strong and refreshed. He had worked
+hard all the afternoon cleaning his little hut and now the humble room
+looked as spotless as spring water and vigorous scrubbing could make
+it. Even the table and chairs were scoured and the fireplace cleaned,
+while, to complete the day's task Mordecai had emptied an old barrel
+in the corner, burning the heap of odds and ends which had accumulated
+since his return. But now as he stood behind the table he held in his
+hand three black books and a faded napkin which he could not bring
+himself to destroy. As he stood there with the rays of the setting sun
+falling through the open door on his shaggy white head, old memories
+burned in his faded eyes and a strange, dreamy smile played about his
+mouth.
+
+"I have found the books--it is time for them to come and say 'grace',"
+he murmured to himself. "I have put my house in order. I know it is
+time for me to go away--into the Great Wilderness--but not until we
+have three at grace once more."
+
+Carefully placing a book at each place, he drew up two chairs and a
+box, spread the napkin at the head of the table and set out his few
+poor dishes and humble evening meal. Then he took his place, opened
+his book and waited. The Hebrew letters seemed strangely blurred; for
+the first time in his life his keen eyes failed him. But, glancing up,
+he thought he saw his two guests, Lyon and Barrett in their places
+waiting for him to begin the blessing before the meal.
+
+"I am ready," he said, and even as he spoke, his head dropped upon the
+open book and Mordecai's restless spirit was at rest forever.
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY STONE
+
+_The Adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the First Naval Officer of
+his Day._
+
+
+A little brown sand piper scudded along the beach. Uriah Levy, a
+brown-faced lad who looked several years older than a boy who had just
+passed his eleventh birthday, lay upon the shore and smiled to see it
+flirt importantly past him as though in a tremendous hurry to reach
+its destination. Then his keen eyes turned toward the sea, blue and
+stainless, as level as the long looking glass in his mother's parlor
+at home. Several sea gulls skimmed the quiet waters, now rising until
+their gray-white plumage melted into the clouds, now seeming to float
+upon the tide. Uriah was a trifle sorry when they disappeared at last,
+for he loved the sea gulls dearly. They seemed so akin to him in their
+wild freedom, in their love for the solitary waste of waters. Ever
+since he could remember, he, too, had loved the sea, since the days
+when he was a tiny boy, sailing his paper boats to strange ports
+across the ocean. And tomorrow he was going to sea at last--a real
+cabin boy in a real vessel! He threw himself back upon the warm sands
+and with half-closed eyes lay dreaming of the future.
+
+He was aroused from his day dreaming by the strange uneasiness that
+comes to one who feels that he is being observed. Sitting up, he saw
+that Ned Allison, a lad whose father owned a fishing shack near by,
+had come down to the beach and was now standing over him, his hands
+thrust into the pockets of his ragged trousers, his bare, brown toes
+kicking among the pebbles at his feet. The newcomer was a few years
+younger than Levy, a grave, stolid lad with bright, restless eyes.
+
+"Hello, Ned," Uriah greeted him. "Did you know I was going to sea
+tomorrow?"
+
+"No. You're lucky." The other's tone was delightfully envious of
+Uriah's good fortune. "I've got to wait till I'm twelve or maybe
+fifteen, I guess. Father's rheumatism is bad lately and I have to help
+him. How're you going?" He sank beside Uriah on the sands and gazed
+longingly over the blue waters.
+
+"I'm going to ship as cabin boy; but I won't be gone long." Uriah
+couldn't help bragging a little as he told his good fortune. "I'm
+going to be like Paul Jones and that crowd--if it takes a hundred
+years."
+
+"You'll be too old then," observed Ned dryly. He began to turn over
+the heap of pebbles that lay between them. "Now if you were to find an
+oyster or clam shell with several big pearls you could buy a ship of
+your own right now and----"
+
+"I'd make you first mate," promised Uriah, generously. Leaning on his
+elbow, he too began to turn over the pebbles, for like every boy of
+his years he never gave up hope of finding an oyster shell thickly
+studded with pearls, each one milk-white and shining and worth a
+king's ransom. "Yes," he went on, dreamily, "I'd rig out a brig right
+away and sail the seas till I got tired. First, I guess, I'd clear
+the Spanish Main of pirates and then I'd visit far-off countries
+across the ocean. Remember what old Captain Ferguson told us about
+'em; palm trees, and naked black men who'll sell you ivory and
+precious stones for a string of beads or a piece of red cloth? That's
+what I'd do if I had a ship of my own."
+
+"I think I'd rather go to war," observed Allison with equal
+seriousness.
+
+"Of course! If there would only be a war with some country or other,
+I'd like to be captain of the American Navy and capture all the other
+nation's vessels and tow 'em into port." His eager face clouded. "But
+I've heard my father say that this country's lucky to have peace after
+the Revolution; that we have to rest and grow strong. I suppose it
+isn't any more likely than either of us ever finding a pearl among all
+these stones." Suddenly he interrupted himself with a shrill whistle
+of delight. "I found a lucky stone," he exclaimed, "a beauty," holding
+it up for Ned's inspection. "And I'm going to wear it for luck as long
+as I'm a sailor." He took a piece of string from his pocket and ran it
+through one of the holes. "Maybe," he laughed, hanging the charm about
+his neck, "maybe this is almost as good as finding a pearl. Anyhow, I
+don't care about being rich as long as I can go to sea."
+
+Uriah Levy stood upon the sea shore, no longer a dreaming boy, but a
+stalwart youth of twenty. At sixteen he already held the position of
+first mate after becoming part owner of the brig, "Five Sisters," on
+which he had made five voyages. It had not been easy for a youth with
+the down of manhood scarcely visible upon his cheeks to rule a crew
+gathered in that day from the riff-raff and scum of the sailing-ports.
+Yet the Jewish lad, who one day was to make it his boast that he had
+abolished the barbarous custom of corporal punishment from the United
+States Navy, by resorting to force ruled without difficulty when his
+lawless seamen once realized his courage and the strength of his
+fists.
+
+But in the year 1812 the times were still wild times upon the ocean
+and it was no uncommon thing for a law-abiding crew to grow weary of
+the restraints of their commander, mutiny and follow the sea after the
+manner of the pirates who still ruled the Spanish Main. And so, when
+Uriah P. Levy became master of the schooner, "George Washington," not
+even his iron discipline was strong enough to withstand the plotting
+of several of the bolder spirits of his crew. Almost under his very
+eyes, the mutiny had been hatched and had grown to a head.
+
+Standing upon the lonely sea shore, Uriah recalled the swarthy,
+leering face of Sam Jones, recently punished for infraction of
+discipline, and the crooked smile of Martin, he who puffed
+everlastingly at his pipe and wore a red handkerchief for a turban and
+earrings of heavy gold. He had known them for the ringleaders in the
+plot against him, even before they had seized command of the vessel
+and taken possession of the cabin that they might hold council whether
+their master should be spared or cast into the sea.
+
+"He's but a boy," Martin had argued. "Let him go. Put him in a boat
+and set him adrift. We're off the coast of Carolina now and even if
+he gets there with a whole skin, he's not likely to worry us when
+we're flying the black flag on the Main."
+
+But Sam Jones had urged instant death. "Let him walk the plank," he
+suggested, his small eyes glittering with hate. "He's only a boy, but
+I tell you I'm afraid of him--sore afraid."
+
+Martin laughed scornfully, puffing at his pipe. "I'm willing to take
+the risk," he declared, "though it's no concern of mine. So let's
+shake dice and the man who wins will say what's to be done with him."
+
+There in the dimly lighted cabin, Levy with his arms bound behind him,
+had watched the game of dice as calmly as though his life did not lie
+in the hands of the two who played for such a ghastly stake. Out on
+the deck, the mutineers drank and jested and sang uproariously in
+their new freedom. He wondered if that were to be the end: a short
+plank, a blow to thrust him into the dark waves of the ocean which he
+had loved so well. Uriah closed his eyes, swaying a little; but he was
+quite calm, even smiling, when Jones sneered in disgust:
+
+"Born to hang, will never drown. You win, Martin." He pushed the dice
+aside and rose to release Levy from his bonds. "Here you," he called
+to several sailors loitering near the door, "get a small boat ready
+and set him adrift."
+
+"And put in a pair of oars," added Martin. "Give the lad a fighting
+chance, can't you? And some bread and a jug of water, too." Somehow he
+felt suddenly uncomfortable before the boy's quiet gaze. "Aren't you
+going to thank me?" he half blustered.
+
+"I am an American gentleman," answered Levy, very slowly, "and I hold
+no speech with outlaws and pirates." And before the astonished
+mutineer could answer him he followed the sailors from the cabin.
+
+And now his perilous journey was over at last, although his frail boat
+had been destroyed on the rocks before he reached the shore. An
+excellent swimmer, Levy had stripped off his shoes and coat and jumped
+into the water. Cleaving the waves with long powerful strokes, he soon
+reached land, where for several hours he lay wet and exhausted, so
+bitterly discouraged that he almost wished Jones had prevailed and cut
+his throat or forced him to walk the plank. Better to have fallen
+asleep beneath the waves, he thought, than try to live, a hopeless and
+a defeated man.
+
+It was now past sunset and Levy mechanically set about building a fire
+to warm his aching limbs and keep off any prowling beasts while he
+slept. Scooping a hollow in the sand beyond the reach of the tide, he
+gathered dry drift wood which he finally lighted by the aid of a spark
+struck from two stones. He was hungry now and even more anxious for a
+smoke than for food; at that moment he hated the crew less for making
+off with the vessel in which he had had a third interest than for
+casting him on this deserted shore without even the solace of his
+evening pipe. Muttering angrily, he leaned over the fire to stir the
+blaze; as he did so the damp string about his neck swung free and he
+noticed the little lucky stone still fastened to the end.
+
+Strangely enough, the sight of the pebble he had worn as a charm for
+so many years gave him courage. His bold spirit which for a little
+while had lain bruised and discouraged grew strong again; he felt that
+he was not the man to submit tamely to treachery and misfortune. He
+must win back all that he had lost that day, not only the stolen
+vessel but his self-respect. He must not allow himself beaten.
+Crouching by the fire, his chin resting on his clenched fists, his
+eyes on the flames, the boy vowed not to rest until he had defeated
+his enemies and secured what was his own. "I'm strong and young," he
+told himself, confidently, "and so far my luck has never failed me."
+And he fingered the little stone on the string about his neck. At last
+the fire died down, but there was no one to stir the dying embers, for
+Uriah Levy had fallen asleep upon the sands, the luck stone still
+clutched between his strong, brown fingers, a confident smile upon his
+lips.
+
+In the days that followed, it was not an easy thing for young Levy to
+smile confidently in the faces of those who predicted certain failure
+in his undertaking. "Other merchants and commanders have suffered from
+pirates and mutinous crews before your day," he was informed at every
+turn. "Better ship again and look for better luck."
+
+Kindly and well-meant advice, but Levy would have none of it. He still
+smiled, though now somewhat grimly, as he went from friend to friend,
+insisting that he would not fail to bring his piratical crew to
+justice. And so confident was he that he would eventually find a
+backer, that he even spent several days roaming about the wharves in
+order to pick out a trustworthy crew, should he find anyone willing
+to send him to sea on his own vessel again.
+
+"Why, Uriah Levy," exclaimed a deep voice as a stout sailor came
+toward him. "You surely haven't forgotten me?"
+
+"You're Ned Allison," said Levy after a long look had convinced him
+that the slender fisher boy had grown into the burly man before him.
+"And do you follow the sea now as you planned?"
+
+"Yes. My poor father died two years ago. So I sent mother to live with
+her sister and here I am. I just hit port last week and now I'm ready
+to leave again as soon as I find a good berth. Just can't feel at home
+on dry land anymore."
+
+Levy nodded understandingly. "Take me to a good tavern around here,"
+he suggested. "I want to talk to you."
+
+Allison willingly led the way to a tavern in the neighborhood much
+frequented by sailors, chatting lightly as they walked. Levy hardly
+knew him for the shy, taciturn playfellow of his boyhood. He sipped
+his ale slowly as he studied Ned's bright, eager face. Somehow he felt
+encouraged at the thought that he might induce Allison to accompany
+him, should he set out on what seemed to be a hopeless voyage.
+
+"And what have you been doing?" asked Allison, pausing for breath.
+"The last I heard of you, you were master of the 'George Washington'
+and part owner. Not that you look very lively and prosperous," he
+added with a keen glance.
+
+Levy briefly related the story of the mutiny and his hope to pursue
+and punish his mutinous crew. "And I'll do it, too," he added,
+passionately. "Though I suppose you, like the rest, think it's a mad
+venture," he ended, doubtfully.
+
+Allison put down his mug before replying. "I can't say that I do," he
+answered slowly. "Though it's risking a good deal if you catch up to
+the dogs and they sink your ship in the scuffle. You couldn't afford
+that, could you?"
+
+"I'm not thinking of the money alone," insisted Levy. "Nor of revenge;
+although I've been treated pretty shabbily and they'll pay for it, if
+I live long enough to track them down. But it's a matter of conscience
+with me, too, Allison. I'm going to do my share in making the sea
+clean of piracy. Maybe there won't be a war in our time, though they
+say there's trouble threatening with England, but I'll serve my
+country in this way at least. Want to help me?" and he leaned across
+the table, looking straight into Ned's eyes.
+
+"I'd rather ship with you as master than any man I know, Sir,"
+answered Allison, gravely.
+
+Less than a week later, Uriah Levy succeeded in convincing several
+wealthy friends of the sanity of his plan. They advanced the necessary
+funds and with a carefully picked crew he started out on a vessel of
+his own with Allison as first mate in pursuit of the sailors who had
+cast him afloat near the Carolina shores.
+
+Of all the tales Ned Allison loved to tell his grandchildren when he
+had grown to be an old man, they clamored most for the story of the
+sea fight in which Uriah Levy conquered the pirate crew of the "George
+Washington." It was a short battle, but a terrible one, which he
+fought a year after the mutiny; and before the mutineers finally
+lowered their black flag in token of surrender, a third of the crew
+lay dead or wounded upon the slippery decks. Old Martin, his pipe
+still between his teeth, lay among the dead, but Sam Jones, his right
+arm hanging limp and useless at his side, was among the survivors who
+were put into irons when their vessel was taken in tow and Levy turned
+his face homeward. Like the other mutineers Jones never doubted what
+his fate would be, for those days were hard days and the men who lived
+by the sword knew only too well that at any moment death by the sword
+might be their portion. Hourly they waited for Levy to pass judgment
+upon them, to hang them from the yard arm of the ship which they had
+sailed under the flag of piracy. While Levy's own crew grew impatient
+until the first mate, Allison, ventured to speak to him of the matter
+as they sat in Levy's cabin the night after the battle.
+
+"I can't help wondering, sir," Allison began, doubtfully, "why you
+have said nothing so far concerning the fate of our prisoners, since
+it is practically in your hands."
+
+Levy shook his head as he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Perhaps he
+was thinking of the night when Jones had threatened him with death and
+laughed at his helplessness. "According to the 'unwritten law' which
+is made to cover so many lawless acts, I have the power to deal with
+them as I think fit," he answered. "And I must confess I was sorely
+tempted to take the law into my own hands when I knew the mutineers
+were in my power. But," smiling a little, "it is much better to leave
+it to the law courts when we reach port."
+
+"And if they should be acquitted?" Allison's eyes snapped with
+excitement. "Sir, if I were in your place----"
+
+"If you were in my place, you might not be censured for yielding to
+your desire for revenge," returned Levy, very quietly. "But I--" his
+voice took on a tinge of bitterness, "I am a Jew and these wretches,
+no matter how criminal, would be pitied as the victim of a Jew's
+vengeance. Even in America, my dear Allison, and in spite of the
+liberal influence of men like Thomas Jefferson, it is not always easy
+to be a Jew."
+
+The civil authorities, however, were entirely on Levy's side at the
+trial and the mutineers were duly tried and condemned to death. The
+young sailor was about to put out to sea again, for he longed for
+further adventure, when the outbreak of the war of 1812 set him
+a-dreaming once more of serving his country upon the sea. In spite of
+his youth, he was commissioned sailing master in the United States
+Navy, serving on the ship, "Alert," and later on the brig, "Argus,"
+which ran the blockade to France, Mr. Crawford, the American minister
+to that country, being aboard. The "Argus" captured several English
+vessels, one of which was placed at Levy's command; but his triumph
+was short-lived; recaptured by the English, Levy and his crew were
+kept prisoners of war in England for over a year.
+
+Regaining his freedom, Levy returned to America to be promoted to the
+rank of lieutenant. It was then that he realized how just had been his
+complaint to Allison, for on every hand those who were envious of his
+good fortune proved even more malicious because of his loyalty to his
+faith. Levy suffered, too, from the hatred of those naval officers who
+looked upon him as an intruder into their ranks. For, with the
+exception of a year's attendance at the Naval School in Philadelphia,
+he had had no naval training and had worked his way up from the ranks.
+Perhaps his long fight against the practise of flogging unruly sailors
+helped to add to the number of his enemies, for those in authority
+were outraged that this Jewish upstart should criticise a custom so
+deeply rooted in the traditions of the navy. Another man of quieter
+temper might have tried to combat the prejudice and hatred which met
+him at every turn; but Levy's nature was not a patient one. When
+raised to the rank of captain, he felt that he could not allow the
+slanders of one of his enemies to go unanswered; he challenged the
+Jew-hater to a duel and caused his opponent to pay for his insults
+with his life.
+
+Although the duel was still recognized as an honorable means of
+settling a controversy between gentlemen, Levy was made to pay
+bitterly for his vindication. His enemies were too strong for him. He
+fought them bravely and with his old proud spirit, but when the trial
+was over, Allison still serving in the navy, read in one of the
+newspapers that his old master had been court-martialed and dropped
+from the roll of the United States Navy as captain.
+
+"I knew they'd get him," thought the honest seaman. "Ah, he was too
+good for them and now they put him to shame. I couldn't blame him if
+he turned against his country when he's treated so after all his
+services. And I wonder what'll happen to him if he doesn't follow the
+sea."
+
+Allison was right in suspecting that his old playmate would turn in
+his trouble to the sea as a child when hurt or tired runs to its
+mother for comfort. Glad of an offer to take charge of an important
+business commission in Brazil, Levy left the United States, hoping
+that the long sea voyage might do a little toward easing the pain in
+his heart. But he found that he had been mistaken, although no one
+ever knew how deeply he suffered from the moment he left the land he
+had sought to serve from his boyhood. Disgraced by his country, tired
+and broken in spirit, he spent endless hours in brooding over his
+misfortune. No longer the commander of his men, not even a common
+seaman, he spent the long days on board leaning upon the rail, looking
+with somber eyes upon the waves. His proud heart was bitter against
+those who had goaded him on to his ruin; he felt that there was no
+justice for the Jew in the whole world, not even in America. Although
+he had already set the wheels in motion for a new trial, he was
+confident that his enemies would again prove too powerful for him. It
+was a hopeless and a heartsick man who landed at last and began his
+new duties at the Brazilian Capital.
+
+Several days after his arrival, Uriah P. Levy stood by the window of
+his room reading a letter, his brows knitted in thought. The note was
+written on the royal stationery and requested him to appear the next
+morning for an audience with Emperor Dom Pedro. Levy could think of
+but one reason for such a strange command. Perhaps the slanders of his
+enemies had preceded him even to this far-off place; perhaps he was
+already under suspicion and the audience with the emperor might lead
+to imprisonment or ejection from the country. The thought of new
+difficulties to encounter wakened his fighting spirit; he was
+strangely elated and the dreadful langor which had seized him during
+his journey disappeared.
+
+"I am ready for another good fight," he told himself grimly as he
+prepared for bed. That night for the first time since his
+court-martial he slept the long hours through, and he rested as
+peacefully as a little child.
+
+Dressing himself with his usual care and holding his head as proudly
+as though he still wore his country's uniform, Levy appeared at the
+palace and was immediately ushered into the emperor's presence. His
+quick eyes, long trained to notice the smallest detail, quickly took
+in every feature of the richly appointed room, noting even the
+fantastic carving of the chair on which the emperor sat, and one of
+the rings he wore, a flat green emerald with a mystic letter carved
+upon it making the jewel, so he judged, a sort of talisman. He smiled
+in spite of himself as he remembered his own humble charm, the lucky
+stone. Perhaps the pebble's usefulness was over; he could hardly call
+his career especially fortunate just now.
+
+Emperor Dom Pedro was a man of a few words. He murmured a few polite
+phrases of greeting, asked Levy of his voyage and whether he had
+completed the mission which had brought him to Brazil. "For if you
+have," he ended, "I may have matters of interest to discuss with you."
+
+"I am not quite finished with the business which brought me here,"
+answered Levy, "but naturally I am honored by your majesty's request
+to appear before you and not a little eager to learn what matters you
+may care to discuss with me."
+
+The emperor twirled the ring with its strange green stone about his
+finger. "I have heard much of you," he returned, briefly, "and I need
+men of your daring and enterprise in my service. Will you take an
+important commission under the Brazilian government?"
+
+For a moment Levy wavered. Already an exile in spirit, he felt he did
+not have the courage to return to his native country. Here was an
+opportunity for an honorable career which would bring him position,
+wealth, all the excitement his daring heart desired. Then, curiously
+enough, as he gazed at the emperor's ring, there flashed across his
+mind the picture of a brown-faced boy upon the sands, a boy turning a
+lucky stone in his fingers as he dreamed of a glorious career in the
+country of his birth. He turned to the emperor and spoke quietly, but
+with his characteristic decision.
+
+"Your majesty," said Uriah Levy, "I thank you. But the humblest
+position in my country's service is more to be preferred than royal
+favor." And bowing before Dom Pedro, he left the court.
+
+Nor was Levy's trust in the justice of his country unfounded. Just as
+he had persisted in bringing his mutinous crew to punishment, now he
+showed the same determination in insisting that a court of inquiry be
+established to question the justice of his court-martial. He prepared
+his own defense--merely a statement of his record while in the service
+of his country--a record that won his complete and honorable
+acquittal. Not only was he restored to his old rank in the United
+States Navy, but shortly afterwards he rose to the advanced rank of
+commodore.
+
+When the Civil War broke out he was holding the position of flag
+officer, the highest rank in our navy at that time. The years had been
+kind to the little cabin boy and his private inheritance had grown
+into a considerable fortune. He had already purchased Monticello, the
+home of his old idol, Thomas Jefferson, intending to preserve it as a
+national shrine, and had presented a statue of the author of our
+Declaration of Independence to the nation's Hall of Fame. Now he felt
+that there was but one cause to which he cared to devote his wealth;
+he sought an interview with President Lincoln and placed his entire
+private fortune at the nation's disposal.
+
+A few days later, his boyhood friend, Ned Allison, now crippled with
+rheumatism but with a laugh as hearty and boyish as of old, visited
+his former master. He found Uriah Levy grown frail and listless, the
+fires of his youth beginning to burn low as he neared his seventieth
+year. To be sure the commodore tried to rouse himself, asking after
+Ned's children, and even laughing feebly at the latter's account of
+his youngest grandson, "named Uriah Levy Allison, after you, sir," who
+now toddled along the beach where the two boys had searched among the
+pebbles so long ago.
+
+"We didn't know we'd live to see two wars, did we, sir," mused
+Allison, "when we were just lads playing before my father's shack.
+Well, even if we're past our prime now, they can't say we didn't do
+our part back in 1812," and he chuckled a little in his pride.
+
+But Levy's eyes were sad. "We have lived a little too long, Allison,"
+he said, gravely but without bitterness. "When this war broke out I
+tried to help once more. But my offer of my entire fortune--and it was
+little enough to offer my country--has been refused, although I am
+allowed to subscribe to the war loan. Yet money means so little in a
+time like this. Whenever I hear the call for volunteers, I am like the
+old war horse that is turned out to grass. I am an old man now, nearly
+seventy, and must sit at home by the fire. But it hurts a little,
+Allison; it hurts a little."
+
+For a while there was silence between them. When Allison rose to go,
+Levy followed him to the door, stopping a moment at the drawer of his
+desk to wrap a small package which he thrust into his old friend's
+hand.
+
+"'Tis for the boy, my name-sake," he explained. "The money will buy
+him some toy--maybe a small vessel to sail when the tide is low--and
+the other--," he laughed a little confusedly. "I found the trifle
+among some old keepsakes and papers the other day when I put my
+affairs in order. Give it to the boy and tell him of the day we found
+it. And come again soon, Allison, and talk over old times."
+
+Out in the street, Ned Allison removed the wrappings from the little
+package. It contained a gold piece and a lucky stone with a bit of
+soiled string still fastened through one of the holes.
+
+
+
+
+THE PRINCESS OF PHILADELPHIA
+
+_The Story of Rebecca Gratz and Washington Irving._
+
+
+The spring rain fell on the roof with a gentle murmur, tinkling
+merrily as though it were pleased to hear the happy laughter of the
+children playing in the garret of Michael Gratz's house in
+Philadelphia. Six children romped there that Saturday afternoon in
+early springtime, away back in the year 1712, Rebecca Gratz, her
+younger brothers and sister and the one guest she had invited to her
+eleventh birthday party, Matilda Hoffman, a girl about her own age,
+whose fair long braids formed a striking contrast to Rebecca's dusky
+curls.
+
+Just now the merriment was at its height for Rebecca, aided by
+Matilda, was setting the table, while nine-year-old Rachel tried to
+amuse baby Benjamin who was making violent efforts to nibble at the
+trimmings of the birthday cake. Joseph and Jacob, fine sturdy fellows
+of seven and six, had found a pair of fencing foils in one of the old
+trunks in the corner and were engaged in a lively duel, displaying
+such recklessness that had their mother seen them she would have
+confiscated the weapons without delay. Perhaps Rebecca would have
+stopped this dangerous play had she not been too busy with the
+banquet-table--really a board placed upon two barrels and covered with
+a gay red scarf Rachel had found with the fencing foils.
+
+"It does look nice," she admitted, viewing her efforts with her head
+on one side as Matilda poured out the last glass of gooseberry wine
+and set it in its place. "Only," with a little sigh, "I do wish my
+birthday hadn't come today so we could have had candles instead of
+those wax roses on the cake."
+
+"Why couldn't you?" Matilda asked curiously.
+
+"It isn't right for people to light birthday candles on _Shabbas_,"
+explained Rachel. "Jewish people, I mean," she qualified as she tied a
+napkin around Benjamin's fat neck and deposited him in a seat at the
+table furtherest from the birthday cake. "But it's different for you
+'cause you're not Jewish."
+
+"It's queer people are all different and go to different churches,"
+puzzled Matilda. "My mamma says----"
+
+But no one ever heard her mother's opinion on the subject, for Joseph
+and Jacob on seeing Rebecca take her place at the head of the table
+raced to their seats with howls like hungry Indians at dinner time.
+For a few minutes the children's noisy tongues were hushed as the
+little hostess passed out sandwiches and jelly tarts. But when all the
+plates were empty to the last crumb and only the birthday cake
+remained in solitary splendor, just beyond the reach of Benjamin's
+greedy fingers, Joseph remarked with a satisfied sigh:
+
+"This was just like one of those king's dinners in the fairy books.
+Like the banquet Esther gave the king at Purim."
+
+"I wish it was Purim again," observed Jacob, who, seeing that the
+pitcher was empty, began to wish that he had drunk his second glass of
+gooseberry wine a little more slowly. "Don't you remember last Purim,
+Becky, how you wore mother's old black silk and played you were Queen
+Esther? But Joe and Hyman took all the good parts and wouldn't let me
+be a king or anything."
+
+"We don't have to wait till Purim to dress up and play king and
+queen," Rebecca told him, her brows knit in her effort to divide the
+pink and white cake into six slices of equal thickness. "As soon as
+we've finished our cake, we'll look through those old trunks over
+there. There're ever so many dresses and things from Austria and an
+Indian blanket and beads and such things and I know mother wouldn't
+care if we played with them as long as we put 'em all back again."
+
+Joseph sprang up, his piece of frosted cake in his hand. "I want the
+Indian stuff," he cried.
+
+"And I'll shoot you with my gun," challenged Jacob, pushing Rachel
+away from the trunk. "You're so slow, Rachel, we'll never get anything
+out."
+
+The other children followed, all but little Benjamin. Benjamin was
+still too young to be interested in the game of "dressing up." So he
+toddled about the deserted table, picking stray crumbs from the plates
+and turning over the empty glasses in the hope of finding a few drops
+of gooseberry wine.
+
+Strange, isn't it, that no matter how long it takes to get ready for
+breakfast, the slowest boy or girl can button himself into a
+make-believe outfit in the twinkling of an eye. In an incredibly short
+time, the five youngsters were dressed, each to satisfy his own
+peculiar taste: Joseph as an Indian in blanket and beads, with a
+crimson band about his head; Jacob, carrying a sword, wore a
+moth-eaten smoking jacket, a bright sash and crimson Turkish turban;
+Rachel and Matilda were two dainty ladies in full skirts of blue and
+pink, with deep bonnets; while Rebecca was rather splendid in a yellow
+silk wrapper, a long veil fastened about her head with a string of
+pearl beads she had found in the treasure trunk. Laughing merrily,
+they all raced to the long mirror which stood at the other end of the
+garret; though cracked and discolored they were able to distinguish
+the gaily clad figures within its mottled depths, more like the quaint
+images of an old tapestry than happy, romping children at play. Then
+they scattered to their own games, the boys to stage an exciting
+battle between a red skin and a gallant soldier, the little girls to
+comfort Benjamin, who, having cleared the table, began to howl
+dismally that he wanted to get "dwessed, too!"
+
+Laughing at his earnestness, the girls dressed him in a bright
+dressing gown striped in red and yellow, even providing him with a
+cane "for a gun like brother's." Then, the boys having grown tired of
+their Indian warfare, the entire company began a gay game of blind
+man's buff which ended somewhat abruptly as it was easy to tell at a
+touch just who was "caught" by the peculiar costume he wore.
+
+"Ball--play ball," suggested little Benjamin, wandering from the open
+trunk, a small crystal ball in his hand.
+
+"What is it?" asked Joseph, taking it curiously, "a paper weight
+or----"
+
+"I know," cried Matilda, as she examined the crystal globe. "My aunt
+has one just like it--she got it from London. You do crystal gazing in
+it."
+
+"Crystal gazing?" Rebecca was frankly puzzled.
+
+"Yes. She showed me how to do it. You just sit with the ball in front
+of you and look into it for a long time and don't think of anything
+else and all of a sudden you see pictures; that's what aunt said."
+
+"What kind of pictures?" Joseph demanded.
+
+"Pictures of what's going to happen. You see just what you're going to
+do when you grow up."
+
+"I don't believe that nonsense," declared Rebecca, with an emphatic
+shake of her dark curls. "Father says it's all foolishness--like
+believing what a gypsy fortune-teller promises you."
+
+"Well, let's try it, anyhow," suggested Rachel. "It won't do any harm
+and it'll give us something to do till the rain's over and we can go
+out and play again."
+
+The crystal ball placed upon the table, the five dark and the one
+flaxen head bent over it eagerly. "But we'll never see anything this
+way," corrected Matilda. "It's Rebecca's party, so let her have the
+ball first. No one else must look or say a single word till she's seen
+her picture."
+
+Cheeks flushed with excitement, shining dark eyes fastened upon the
+crystal, Rebecca sat motionless, scarcely daring to breathe as she
+waited for the picture of her future to appear in the glass. The
+others clustered about her, expectant and silent. At last she shook
+her head and pushed the ball aside. "I can't see a single thing," she
+complained.
+
+"But I want to try it," declared Jacob, reaching for the crystal. "Now
+all keep quiet and maybe I'll see something, even if Becky couldn't."
+
+Again patient waiting until Jacob got up in disgust. "It's a silly
+game," he jeered. "Maybe your aunt could see things in an old glass
+ball, but nobody else can."
+
+"It's more fun just playing 'pretend'," declared his sister Rachel.
+"Let's do it." She flung herself upon an old fur rug near the window,
+pulling Benjamin down beside her. "We'll just sit in a circle and
+pretend we've looked in the glass ball and it told us just what we
+were going to do when we grow up. I want to tell my fortune first,"
+she ended importantly.
+
+"That's a silly girl game," objected Jacob; but, tired of romping, he,
+too, threw himself upon the rug and waited with the rest of the circle
+for Rachel to disclose her future.
+
+"When I'm grown up," began Rachel very slowly, her eyes fixed on the
+trees beyond the window, dripping with rain, "I'm going to be very
+beautiful like Miss Franks in New York used to be, and go to parties
+and balls every single night and have all the officers in the army
+writing poetry about me and making toasts for me, just as she did. And
+I'll always wear pink silk," she concluded, with a glance at her rosy
+ruffles.
+
+"I should think you'd get awfully tired of balls every night,"
+observed Matilda. "I'd much rather be like my governess. She isn't
+pretty at all but she knows just everything and she writes verses,
+too. When I grow up, I'm going to write a whole book and everybody
+will say how smart I am." She spoke very seriously and the others
+looked at their ambitious little friend respectfully. Happy children
+as they were, they could not read the future and see that Matilda
+Hoffman, although one of the most accomplished young women of her
+time, would never write the wonderful book of which she dreamed. Nor
+could they guess that instead her lovely life would be an inspiration
+to a writer whose books every American would come to know and cherish.
+
+"And I'm going 'way west to the lands father's just bought," declared
+Jacob, "and live with the Indians and wear a blanket and go hunting
+all the time."
+
+"And I'm going with you," piped Benjamin, not understanding what the
+game was about, but determined not to lose any of the fun. Though
+something of that afternoon's pretending came to pass for him, for
+when a man he actually sought what was then the far western territory
+of Kentucky and became one of the leading citizens of Lexington.
+
+"Well, I'm going to be a merchant like father," Joseph spoke with his
+usual grave determination, never dreaming of the day when he would
+become a senator. "And what are you going to do, Becky?"
+
+Rebecca considered for a moment. Although older than the others, this
+child's play was very fascinating to her. "The other day," she said
+slowly, "I had the legend of St. Elizabeth for my French lesson. I
+think I'd like to be just like her when I grow up."
+
+"Was she beautiful and everything like that?" asked Rachel.
+
+"I suppose so." Rebecca's voice had grown rather dreamy. "The ladies
+in stories always are beautiful, aren't they? But I liked her because
+she went about doing good among the poor peasants, even if her mean
+husband wanted her to stay at home."
+
+"Did he ever find out?" asked Jacob.
+
+"Once he thought he did." Rebecca smiled at the recollection. "She was
+going through the castle courtyard with a basket on her arm and some
+one told him she was taking bread to the poor people. He was very
+angry and ran after her and asked her what was underneath the napkin
+on her basket. You can just imagine how frightened she was!"
+
+"Did she tell him?" Matilda wanted to know.
+
+"I suppose she was so frightened she just didn't know she was telling
+a lie," Rebecca excused her heroine, "and before she knew what she was
+saying, she told her husband that she was carrying roses. And it was
+in the middle of the winter, too! And when he snatched the napkin off
+the basket--" the story teller paused impressively, "what do you
+suppose he found there?"
+
+"Bread," chorused her listeners.
+
+"No!" Rebecca shook her curls. "Because she was so good, God saved her
+from telling a lie and her basket was filled with beautiful red roses.
+And when her husband saw how much God thought of her, he became good,
+too, and tried to help Elizabeth care for all the poor people in the
+country."
+
+"She must have been very rich to help so many poor people," observed
+Joseph.
+
+"Oh, she was a real princess and I guess all princesses have plenty
+of money," answered his sister easily.
+
+"Then you can be just like her, if you want to," the admiring Matilda
+assured her. "Your papa's one of the richest men in Philadelphia, I
+guess, and you're beautiful like Elizabeth and with that long veil and
+those pearls you look just like a real princess this minute, doesn't
+she, Rachel?"
+
+"Let's play the princess in the tower?" cried Joseph, springing up,
+already weary of the game. "Becky, you get on top of that trunk and
+we'll put chairs around it and play it's a high tower and Jacob and I
+will be princes and come and rescue you and take you away on our
+horses--the way they did in the fairy book you read us the other day."
+
+"But what'll we be?" cried Rachel and Matilda together.
+
+"You can be her ladies-in-waiting or something," Joseph decided, "and
+Benjamin can be our page and hold our horses while we climb into the
+tower." He straddled one of the fencing foils and pranced across the
+room. "A rescue!" he called shrilly to his brothers, "a rescue for the
+lovely Princess Rebecca."
+
+Hyman Gratz, Rebecca's sixteen-year-old brother, entering the room at
+that moment, smiled at their sport. Swinging Benjamin to his shoulder
+he advanced toward the tower which sheltered the three lovely ladies
+and pulled Rebecca's face down to his for a kiss. "Having a happy
+birthday?" he asked.
+
+"Just splendid." Rebecca's eyes danced with happiness. "We're playing
+the princess in the tower and I'm the princess."
+
+Hyman, his face suddenly grave, looked over the happy, dancing figures
+in their fantastic dresses. Although he did not know why, he wished at
+that moment that the children playing in the old attic need never grow
+up, but might always be carefree and laughing in their idle games. His
+eyes lingered longest on Rebecca, such a dainty little princess in her
+yellow silk and pearls and he sighted a little. But all he said was:
+"If I were you youngsters, I'd play in the garden. The rain's all over
+and there's a fine rainbow just behind the old chestnut tree."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Washington Irving sat crouched in one of the great arm chairs of the
+drawing room in Mr. Gratz's house in Philadelphia. His elbow on his
+knee, he sat with his hand shading his face, his eyes seeking the
+floor. When Rebecca Gratz entered the room, he seemed about to rise,
+but with a gesture she urged him to remain seated and took a chair
+beside him. For a long time they sat there in silence, Rebecca's hands
+twisting a small package that lay in her lap, her face pale and tired,
+her dark eyes filled with tears.
+
+Sitting there with the soft candle light falling upon her simple blue
+dress and white arms, she made a picture which young Irving would have
+appreciated at any other moment. The slim little princess of the
+nursery had grown into a graceful young girl of gracious, yet
+dignified bearing, her abundant hair brushed simply back from her
+forehead, the gravity of her sweet face increased by the earnestness
+that never left her large dark eyes, even when she smiled. For even
+in her gayest moments there was always a hint of gentle gravity about
+Rebecca Gratz; tonight, when utterly exhausted from watching at the
+deathbed of her childhood friend, Matilda Hoffman, she looked like a
+beautiful graven image of Sorrow.
+
+At last Rebecca spoke, her low voice tremulous with tears: "The end
+was very easy--God was good to her at the last. And I do not think she
+suffered much lately. Matilda just seemed to fade away, not like one
+ill, but very tired. She often spoke of you when we were together;
+that is why I asked brother Hyman to send for you. I thought you would
+like to hear it all from me."
+
+The young man in the arm chair shifted a little. "Yes, I would like to
+hear everything from you," he answered, not trusting himself to meet
+her eyes.
+
+Simply, tenderly, Rebecca told young Irving of the last illness of the
+young girl whom he had hoped to marry. Now and then her voice broke,
+for she had loved Matilda Hoffman dearly; but she went bravely on
+until the end, when she placed the little package in Irving's hand.
+"She said I was to give you this," she told him, and looked away while
+he opened the cord with fingers that trembled a little.
+
+The tokens that Washington Irving now gazed upon with tear-dimmed eyes
+and which were never to leave his possession during all the years when
+he was to acquire fame and wealth as America's leading author were a
+little prayer book and Bible. Between the pages of the latter the dead
+girl had placed a lock of her bright hair; as he raised the worn
+little book several faded rose leaves fell upon the carpet.
+
+"I pressed one of the roses from her coffin for you," Rebecca told
+him. "I did not think it would fade so soon."
+
+There was a long silence between them, then, the two books pressed
+again his cheek, the young man burst into a fit of passionate weeping.
+"It was not right," he cried fiercely. "She was so good and beautiful
+and young. And we would have been so happy together. It was not right
+that she should die."
+
+"I know--I loved her, too," said Rebecca gently.
+
+He turned upon her almost angrily. "You can never know. I was her
+lover; you were only her friend."
+
+"'The heart knoweth its own bitterness'," quoted the girl softly.
+
+But Irving impatiently shook off the pitying hand she had dropped upon
+his arm, "What do you know of sorrow?" he demanded. "You have
+everything your heart can desire; wealth, youth, beauty, friends--I
+have no one."
+
+"And with all my gifts I am more unhappy than you," Rebecca persisted.
+"For I have not even the memory of a happy friendship and love like
+yours to bring me comfort now."
+
+For a moment Irving forgot his own grief. "I do not understand," he
+murmured.
+
+She smiled sadly. "You will not repeat this, I know," she told him
+quietly. "Only my own family know, but you have been such a close
+friend of my brother's that my secret is safe with you. I have
+loved--and been loved--by a young man who was all my parents could
+desire for me. But last month he went away and I shall never see him
+again."
+
+For the first time that evening Irving's eyes met hers. The girl's
+glance was sad but very brave. "I do not understand," he repeated.
+
+Again she smiled sadly. "You know how liberal my family have always
+been in their religious opinions. We have always mingled freely with
+non-Jews; Matilda, although not a Jewess, was my dearest friend. In
+fact, a number of my relatives have married outside our faith." She
+broke off a moment. "The young man was not a Jew," she said slowly.
+"He loved his religion as well as I did mine. It was very hard to have
+him go away." She leaned toward Washington Irving and lightly touched
+the two little books she had given him. "You have lost your joy, too,"
+she said, and now her clear tones trembled a little. "Neither of us
+can ever be very happy again. We will both be so lonely sometimes,
+that I think we must learn to be very good friends, don't you?" And
+Irving pressed her hand in silence.
+
+It was a more portly Irving, the Irving with the bright eyes and
+kindly smile which we have learned to associate with the author of
+"Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," that waited for
+Rebecca Gratz in the drawing room of her father's home about ten years
+later. Since the death of Matilda Hoffman, he had grown to be a very
+close friend of the Gratz family, never failing when in Philadelphia
+to visit their home where he might "roost," as he put it, in the
+large, comfortable guest room. He had never referred to his intimate
+conversation with Rebecca when she had tried to comfort him after
+Matilda's death; yet their mutual grief and confidence had created a
+strong bond between them, and when Irving returned from an extended
+trip abroad, he welcomed the opportunity of going to Philadelphia to
+see his latest book through the press. For he longed to visit Miss
+Gratz, who, so the home letters had informed him, had grown to be a
+famous beauty and belle during his absence.
+
+She came into the room with her swaying, graceful carriage of old
+days, but with a new dignity and reserve of manner, carrying her
+lovely head with just a little more pride than in her girlhood,
+greeting Irving, for all her warm friendliness, like a young queen
+graciously ready to accept homage from her subjects. She sank into a
+low chair beside the fire, the flames casting a warm glow over her
+arms and neck from which her gold colored scarf had slipped at her
+entrance. Irving thought of another night ten years ago when she had
+sat in that very chair with the candle light falling upon her blue
+draperies. Then she had been a lovely girl just on the threshold of
+life; now she was a cultured, well-poised woman of the world, crowned
+by virtue of her beauty and position as the ruler of the society in
+which she moved. He sighed a little and suddenly felt that he was
+growing old. For a while they spoke of what had occurred during
+Irving's absence from America, the countries the young author had
+visited, the great men he had met on his travels. Finally he told her
+of his visit to Sir Walter Scott, "days of solid enchantment," he
+described them, from the moment when the famous author had limped down
+to the gate of his estate in Scotland to welcome him, his favorite
+stag hound leaping about him, as he grasped his guest's hand.
+
+"We spent much of our time in long rambles over the hills," Irving
+continued, "Scott telling me legends of the countryside as only he
+could tell them. And in the evenings we would sit like medieval barons
+before the blazing logs in the great dim hall at Abbotsford and there
+would be more stories and confidences until long after midnight. Ah,
+Rebecca, it was worth a trip across the Atlantic, just to touch his
+hand."
+
+She leaned toward him, her eyes sparkling. "How I would like to know
+him--not only his books, which I love so much, but the real man in his
+home," she cried.
+
+Irving smiled mysteriously. "You may not know him, but he knows you
+well, my lady. I told him of my American friends, your brother Hyman
+among them, and, surely, I could not omit you, another heroine to hang
+in his gallery of fair ladies of romance."
+
+Rebecca shook her head, smilingly. "But I am not a heroine nor a lady
+of romance," she protested.
+
+"Scott seemed to think you were," Irving insisted. "I told him of your
+beauty, your goodness--well, you can't deny them," as she raised a
+protesting hand, "and your loyalty to your people. He had not finished
+his novel, 'Rob Roy,' then, but he told me he was eager to write a new
+romance, with the adventures of a lovely Jewess named Rebecca to form
+the silver thread of the story. He has written me from time to time,"
+went on Irving, as Rebecca smiled a little incredulously, "to tell me
+how the work progressed. Much of the romance was dictated when Scott
+lay on a couch too ill to write. He tells me that his two secretaries
+grew to love the heroine, Rebecca, as much as he did, and that once
+one of them grew so impatient to hear what became of her, that he
+looked up from his manuscript and cried: 'That is fine, Mr. Scott--get
+on--get on!'"
+
+"And did Mr. Scott finally 'get on' and finish his book with a Jewish
+heroine?" laughed Rebecca.
+
+Irving reached toward the table and handed her a package he had placed
+there. She broke the string curiously, a slow flush mounting her cheek
+as she saw the volume, the first to be read by an American, but now in
+every library in the land. "'Ivanhoe'," she read the tide, softly,
+"but, surely, I am not in the story."
+
+"He sent me this letter with the volume," answered Irving, drawing a
+sheet of folded taper from between the pages. "I brought it with me
+because I knew it would interest you."
+
+And Rebecca, flushing over one of the most beautiful compliments ever
+paid an American girl, read: "How do you like my Rebecca? Does the
+Rebecca I have pictured compare well with the pattern given?" She
+folded the paper and slipped it back between the pages. "But, surely,
+I am not in the story," she repeated. "I am not a lady of romance, not
+a real princess since the days little Matilda and Rachel and I used to
+dress up and pretend we lived in a fairy tale."
+
+Irving's merry eyes softened at mention of their dead friend. Then:
+"You are more like a lady of romance than any woman I have ever
+known," he declared stoutly, "and I have met some of the greatest
+ladies of all Europe. But none of them seemed half so much a queen as
+you. No, I am not flattering you, Rebecca. Hasn't your brother written
+me of all your triumphs in society, here in Philadelphia, when he took
+you to Saratoga Springs, when you visited your brother in Lexington
+and were treated like a real princess by everyone who met you from
+Henry Clay down to the negro slaves?"
+
+"Oh, that--" Rebecca shrugged a little disdainfully. "I hope the Lady
+Rebecca in 'Ivanhoe' does something worth while."
+
+"She heals the sick and comforts the suffering; she is a great lady in
+the real sense of the word; lady, a loaf-giver," answered Irving.
+"Just as you are," he concluded, warmly.
+
+"What else is there for me to do?" said Rebecca. "I shall never build
+a home of my own or have little ones to love and care for. So I am
+glad to use my wealth and leisure in building other homes, in being
+something of a mother to the little orphans of our city."
+
+"No matter whether they are Jew or Gentile," added Washington Irving
+who had heard much of her many charities.
+
+"We have all one Father," she reminded him, gently. "But, really, I do
+not do half that I would. I am not a St. Elizabeth and no miracles are
+wrought for me," and she smiled a little at her childish admiration
+of the generous lady. "So I am half afraid to read what you have
+brought me," indicating the volume, "for I know I shall be found
+wanting when I am cast in the scale with the lovely Lady Rebecca."
+
+"No, indeed! She is all that a princess in romance should be, but I
+prefer our own Princess of Philadelphia," answered Washington Irving,
+gallantly.
+
+The Princess of Philadelphia, as the great author often called her,
+half in jest, half in earnest, lived to be very old, surviving many
+members of her family, and the brilliant circle over which she had
+long reigned as a queen. But she was not too lonely; the young girls
+whom she guided as an older sister, the orphan children who found in
+her a second mother, countless unfortunates, some of them needing
+gold, others a word of hope and comfort, became her subjects and
+enthroned her in their grateful hearts. Her life, after all, was a
+placid one. Unlike the Rebecca of the romance, she never experienced
+thrilling adventures; no duels were fought in her names; no gallant
+knights sought to save her from her enemies. Yet even when her
+marvellous beauty faded and her glossy hair became threaded with gray,
+she remained as youthful as any princess in a fairy tale, for she
+never grew old at heart. And little children, divining the youth in
+her soul, always felt that she was one of them.
+
+It happened one day that Rebecca Gratz visited the Hebrew School she
+had founded in Philadelphia, the forerunner of our modern Jewish
+Sabbath School and the first institution of its kind in America. She
+had not only donated large sums of money for its support, but had
+helped to select and plan text books for the students, even writing
+some of the daily prayers to be used by the little Jewish children of
+her native city. It was her birthday--the seventy-fifth--and as the
+gentle-faced old lady passed down the quiet corridors, she thought
+half-tenderly, half-sadly of the birthday party in the garret so many
+years ago. What silly things children dream! she thought with a smile.
+Matilda had written no wise books and her adventure-loving brother had
+never lived with the Indians. For herself--well, she was not really a
+princess as Matilda had declared she ought to be, but like the
+Princess Elizabeth she had been allowed to go about doing good among
+the people.
+
+A sound of stiffled sobbing reached her ear. Turning, she saw a little
+girl curled up in one of the low window sills, an open book on her
+lap. Rebecca Gratz hurried to her and slipped a comforting arm about
+the shaking shoulders.
+
+"Tell me what is the matter?" she whispered.
+
+The child raised a wet face. "Oh, it's you, Miss Gratz," she
+exclaimed. "I know I'm just as silly, but I can't help it. I came to
+the sad part of the book where they want to burn 'Rebecca' for a witch
+and I just couldn't help crying. Though I know it's going to come out
+all right in the end," she added, wiping her eyes, "'cause story books
+always do."
+
+"Yes, story books do, even if real people's stories don't always end
+happily," agreed Miss Gratz, sitting beside her. "Do you like the
+book, Helen?"
+
+"Ever so much, Miss Gratz. Miss Cohen, my teacher, lent it to me. And
+what do you suppose she said?" She hesitated a moment, then,
+encouraged by the kind eyes looking down into hers, added bashfully:
+"Miss Cohen said, 'You ought to enjoy 'Ivanhoe,' Helen, because a
+great many people think the character of Rebecca was taken from our
+Miss Gratz.' Is that really true?" she ended, shyly.
+
+Miss Gratz laughed as gayly as a child. "I mustn't tell," she teased.
+"Only it doesn't seem likely, does it? The Rebecca in the story wears
+pearls and veils every day and is imprisoned in a dungeon and goes to
+the tournament. While I am just a plain old lady in a bonnet and shawl
+and never do anything more exciting than visit your Hebrew classes. So
+it's not likely Rebecca in the story and I are the same person, is
+it?"
+
+Helen considered a moment, her eyes fastened upon Miss Gratz's face.
+When she spoke it was in a tone of deep conviction. "Maybe Miss Cohen
+wasn't exactly right," she admitted, "but even if you're not a real
+princess, and all that, you're just as sweet and good as Rebecca in
+the story book, anyhow."
+
+
+
+
+A PRESENT FOR MR. LINCOLN
+
+_How President Lincoln Set Out for Washington and How He Returned._
+
+
+Little Morris Rosenfelt stirred uneasily on the hard bench as he tried
+in vain to concentrate his wandering thoughts on his Hebrew lesson. It
+happened to be all about the building of the Tabernacle in the
+wilderness, but Morris was not at all interested in Bezalel, the
+artist of old, who built the first sanctuary for his people. Instead,
+although his eyes were fastened to the coarse black characters in the
+page before him, the boy was living over again the scene that had
+passed in the parlor of his father's house, the night before.
+
+Mr. Abraham Kohn, city clerk of Chicago, had dropped in to talk over
+congregational matters with Morris's father, for Mr. Kohn was one of
+the early presidents of _Kehilath Anshe Ma'arav_, Chicago's first
+synagogue, and one of its most active members. Morris, busy in the
+next room with his lessons for the next day, had paid scant attention
+to their conversation, until the words, "Mr. Lincoln," and "flag"
+caught his ear. Then he closed his geography with a slam, for like
+every other nine-year-old boy of his day, he had heard much of the
+"rail splitter from Illinois," as his opponents called him, and shared
+his state's enthusiasm for the man who had just been elected
+president.
+
+"I'm glad we Jews did our part in electing him," said Mr. Kohn. "He
+will make a strong president in these uncertain times; perhaps, the
+only man who can keep this country out of civil war if the southern
+states attempt to secede."
+
+"They'll not fight, especially as Mr. Lincoln has promised not to
+interfere with slavery in the states where it now exists," Mr.
+Rosenfelt answered easily. He was a stout, cheerful man who refused to
+borrow trouble, very unlike Morris's mother who always saw sorrow and
+accident for her family hovering in the near future. "With a strong
+man like Mr. Lincoln in Washington, we can stop worrying for a while."
+
+"I hope so." Mr. Kohn's voice was a little doubtful. "I hate to
+predict trouble, but I do believe that our candidate is going to have
+a harder row to plough than any president we ever had since
+Washington. I was thinking of that when I had the verses printed on
+the flag I am going to send him."
+
+"Oh, are you going to send Mr. Lincoln a flag?" cried Morris,
+forgetting he was not supposed to be listening.
+
+His father shook his head and ordered the boy to attend to his
+lessons. "His reports are worse every month," he told Mr. Kohn. "Rabbi
+Adler tells me he is a good boy, but that doesn't raise his marks in
+Hebrew and arithmetic and history, and his mother----"
+
+"But I don't like history about dead people," objected the boy. "Now
+Mr. Lincoln's alive--and he's history, too, isn't he?"
+
+"The boy's right," laughed Mr. Kohn. "Come in here, Morris, if your
+father'll let you, and I'll tell you all about the flag I'm sending
+Mr. Lincoln next week before he leaves his home in Springfield for
+Washington." Morris, needing no second invitation, gladly deserted his
+books and slipped into the parlor, curling up in one corner of the
+horsehair sofa as he attempted to be as little in the way as possible.
+For he didn't want his mother, should she happen to come into the
+room, to send him back to his lessons again.
+
+"It is a large American flag," explained Mr. Kohn, "woven of the
+finest silk. And across it I've had inscribed in Hebrew the command
+given to Joshua when he took command of the Israelites after the death
+of Moses." He turned to Morris, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "I
+suppose you can tell your father what that was," he said, very
+seriously. "What?" as Morris, really embarrassed, shook his head. "I
+thought you really learned more in Rabbi Adler's school. Suppose you
+get your Bible and show us how well you can translate the passage."
+
+Doubtful of his skill as translator, but sure that kindly Mr. Kohn who
+had been one of the early cantors of the congregation and "knew
+everything about Hebrew" would lend him a hand at the hard places,
+Morris turned to the first chapter of Joshua, and, with a little
+prompting translated the command given to the Jewish leader:
+
+"Have I not commanded thee?" he read. "Be strong and of good courage;
+be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with
+thee whithersoever thou goest." He looked up, his boyish spirit
+thrilled with the words. "I like that," he exclaimed naively, "it's
+so--so--alive--not a bit like the Bible."
+
+"So that's what's written on your flag?" commented Mr. Rosenfelt.
+"Well, no matter what happens, I guess we won't have to worry over our
+Mr. Lincoln. He'll be 'strong and of good courage,' alright, and make
+us glad we sent him on to Washington. Morris, go into the dining room
+now and study your lessons. Are you going to take the flag to Mr.
+Lincoln yourself before he leaves Springfield?" he asked, turning back
+to Mr. Kohn, as Morris unwillingly went back to his lessons for the
+next morning.
+
+"No. I can't leave my work just now," answered Mr. Kohn, who was city
+clerk. "But I'm sending it with a friend who will be in Springfield
+before Mr. Lincoln leaves. I want him to have a real going-away
+present to tell him what the Jews of Illinois think of their new
+president."
+
+Then the talk drifted to other matters, but Morris went to bed his
+heart filled with envy for the man who should take the flag to Mr.
+Lincoln. He knew that there wasn't the slightest chance for him to go
+to Springfield; his mother would remember all the dreadful stories she
+had ever heard of little boys being kidnapped while taking railway
+journeys alone; his father would tell him he couldn't spare the money
+for such a trip and that Morris couldn't afford to lose a day of
+school. Then, if he couldn't go to Springfield, it would be almost as
+good to send a present to Mr. Lincoln such as Mr. Kohn planned to
+do--but what could a little boy with a limited amount of pocket money
+send a man just elected to be president of the United States. He even
+crept out of bed very stealthily, not caring to arouse his
+ever-wakeful mother in the next room--to look over the treasures in
+the top drawer of his little dresser; the finest stamp collection ever
+possessed by any boy who attended his school, he thought proudly; a
+box of shells and lucky stones gathered on the lake shore last
+vacation; a prize book given him at school for perfect attendance,
+which Morris never cared to read, as it seemed to be the tale of a
+very good little boy who always stood at the head of his class and
+never disobeyed his parents; a set of fishing tackle discarded by his
+older brother, Harry. Treasures, though they were, Morris would have
+sent any or all of them with Mr. Kohn's flag as a going-away gift to
+the new president, already enshrined in so many hearts; but, boy
+though he was, he knew that a grown up man would not care for his poor
+presents. He even lifted his little blue bank and rattled it softly;
+but he did not take the trouble to pry it open, for he knew that for
+all its jingling, the pennies inside would not amount up to more than
+a dollar. Disappointed, yet determined not to let Mr. Kohn outdo him
+in the matter, Morris crept back to bed.
+
+The next morning he found his plans for Mr. Lincoln's present far more
+fascinating than his lessons as he sat in the basement schoolroom
+provided for the children of the congregation. One of the school's
+non-Jewish teachers had heard his history and geography. In a little
+while Rabbi Adler would take the classes in Hebrew and German. Morris
+knew he ought to prepare the lessons so shamefully neglected the night
+before, but he found it difficult to put his mind on his task.
+
+Fortunately for him, he wasn't called upon during the Hebrew session
+and managed to escape a scolding for his lack of preparation. So he
+sat sedately with his eyes glued upon the thick black characters,
+while his mind pictured the flag with the Hebrew lettering which was
+to be sent to Springfield. He had seen a good many pictures of Mr.
+Lincoln and now he tried to imagine how the kindly, homely face would
+break into a smile at Mr. Kohn's thoughtfulness. Then he roused
+himself to listen, for now the rabbi was saying something about the
+lesson that really interested him.
+
+"Of course," said Rabbi Adler, "the Sanctuary Bezalel built in the
+desert wasn't half so beautiful as the Temple we afterwards raised at
+Jerusalem. But we were willing to wait. It was always that way with
+our people--with every nation, too; we must wait for what is worth
+while and if we wait long enough and work while we are waiting, we
+will finally achieve what we have been striving for." He paused for a
+moment, closing his book, as he looked over the class. "Has anyone a
+question to ask about the lesson?" he ended, in his usual way.
+
+Hardly thinking what he did, Morris shot his hand up in the air, then
+wished with all his heart that he had not raised it, when the rabbi
+said: "Well, Morris, what's your question?"
+
+"It's not exactly about the lesson," confessed the boy, awkwardly.
+"But when you talked about waiting for something for a long time, I
+wondered--I--how long is a person president of the United States?" he
+ended desperately, realizing how foolish his question must sound not
+only to the teacher but to his fellow students as well.
+
+If Rabbi Adler failed to see any connection between the building of
+the Sanctuary and American politics, he was too kind to say so. "The
+president is elected for four years," he answered, "although sometimes
+he is reelected for a second term, which makes eight years in all."
+
+"Then Mr. Lincoln'll be in Washington eight years, 'cause everybody
+will want him for two terms," decided Morris, loyally, though a little
+disappointed that the plan which had just occurred to him must take so
+long to mature.
+
+"So you're a Lincoln man, too?" smiled his teacher. He hesitated a
+moment, then, feeling that high civic ideals were as necessary to his
+class as Hebrew, he went on: "We who have worked hard to elect Mr.
+Lincoln feel that our country is in good hands. He is not one of our
+people, yet I believe he is more like our Hebrew prophets than any
+man, Jew or non-Jew, living today. None of you boys may ever be
+president, but if you strive as earnestly as Mr. Lincoln has always
+done to serve the right, I shall be well satisfied.... We will take
+the next chapter for tomorrow," and the lesson was over.
+
+Next came the German class and Morris, after reading and translating
+his portion of a German fairy tale quite creditably, sank back in his
+place, again busy with his plans. Rabbi Adler was right, he decided.
+If one just worked and waited, everything would turn out all right. So
+Mr. Lincoln would be gone for four years, perhaps eight. Well, since a
+Jewish gentleman had sent him a going-away present, wouldn't it be a
+fine thing for a Jewish boy to send him some gift when he returned to
+his home in Springfield? Morris wasn't sure just what the gift would
+be, but he was no longer worried. Even four years were not long to
+wait, especially if one had to save a good deal of money in the
+interval. For Morris was sure that he would have to send a really
+expensive present; perhaps a gold watch, which at that particular
+moment was the one thing, next to a Shetland pony, he most desired for
+himself.
+
+The four years passed for Morris, now slowly when lessons were long
+and hard, now all too swiftly during the holiday seasons. They were
+years of struggle for the nation now torn asunder by a dreadful civil
+war. Even from the first, Morris was not too young to understand the
+history that was being made about him; the firing upon Fort Sumter;
+the secession of the southern states; Mr. Lincoln's call for
+volunteers. How he despised himself for being such a small boy when he
+saw his brother Harry in his blue uniform with the brass buttons! He
+couldn't understand why his mother had cried when Harry went away to
+be a soldier, since he himself felt cruelly cheated in being deprived
+of marching off to the battle field. Nor could he understand why
+Rabbi Adler's voice always faltered now when he read the _Kaddish_
+prayer for the mourners every Sabbath in the synagogue, although he
+had heard that his teacher's young son, Dankmar, serving in the
+artillery, was wounded at the battle of Chickamauga. For war to the
+little boy meant nothing but lines of straight soldiers marching to
+music with flying banners above them, and even when bits of crape
+appeared, so it seemed, upon the doors of every other home in the
+city, he thought only of the glory, not the horror of it all. Nor did
+he ever imagine how President Lincoln's great heart almost broke in
+those days over the suffering not only of his own Northern soldiers,
+but the Southern boys too, whom he would never call "rebels" nor cease
+to regard but as brother Americans. When the boy thought of the
+president at all, it was always as the captain of a mighty host,
+pressing fearlessly on to victory. "Like Joshua," he thought,
+remembering the verses on the flag, resolving that when victory did
+come at last he would celebrate in his own way, by sending Mr. Lincoln
+his present.
+
+"We can't do too much for Mr. Lincoln," his brother Harry had said
+when he came home on a furlough, so tanned and sturdy that even Mrs.
+Rosenfelt had to confess that his soldiering had not broken down his
+health. And Morris's heart had reechoed the sentiment again and again,
+especially when Harry was taken to one of the Washington hospitals and
+wrote glowingly of the president's visits to the sick and wounded
+soldiers. "He's not like a president--he's just like a father," he
+wrote, and more than one bereaved household in those dark days
+learned to agree with him.
+
+For the sadly-tried man from Illinois was never too busy with affairs
+of state to write a word of comfort to a mother who had lost her son
+on the battlefield, never too harassed with his many duties to listen
+to a plea for a furlough or a pardon. But, perhaps, of all the stories
+that reached Morris at that time the account of Mr. Abraham Jonas of
+Peoria meant the most.
+
+Mr. Jonas was a Jewish citizen of Peoria, Illinois, and had been a
+staunch friend and political associate of Lincoln before the latter
+left Springfield for the White House. Strangely enough, Mr. Jonas's
+four sons all enlisted in the Southern army. Towards the close of the
+war, Abraham Jonas fell ill, and, learning from his doctors that his
+disease would prove fatal, felt that he could never die in peace until
+he had seen his son Charles, then a Confederate prisoner of war on
+Johnson's Island, Lake Erie. The dying father appealed to his old
+friend, and President Lincoln at once gave the order to parole Charles
+Jonas for three weeks that he might visit his father's bedside.
+
+"After that," admitted Mrs. Rosenfelt, wiping her eyes as she heard
+the story from a Chicago friend of the Jonas family, "after that, I'll
+forgive the president everything!" She never explained just why she
+should feel called upon to forgive President Lincoln for anything, but
+up to that time the good lady had entertained the notion that the
+president had made the war and was entirely responsible for her son's
+enlistment. "Things like that make you feel that there's good in
+everybody's heart even in war time. Anyhow, the war can't last much
+longer."
+
+The great war did end that very year and in the spring of 1865 Morris
+realized that at last he might send Mr. Lincoln his present. "Just for
+a sort of extra celebration," he told himself, as he counted the money
+he had so painfully hoarded in an old wallet during the four years of
+waiting.
+
+It was not a large sum after all, for Mr. Rosenfelt was not a rich man
+and his business interests had suffered during the war. And, it must
+be confessed, several times Morris had yielded to temptation and had
+broken into his little treasury to buy some toy or pleasure that he
+felt he just must have, intending to pay himself back as soon as he
+could earn the money. But chores were few and brought little, and even
+his uncle's _barmitzvah_ present of five dollars failed to raise the
+sum above fifteen. Still that was a good deal, thought Morris,
+although he couldn't buy a gold watch with it. But he had grown up a
+little during the past four years and realized that probably Mr.
+Lincoln had a gold watch, anyhow. And so, much as he hated to do it,
+for he wanted the secret to be all his own, he decided to ask his
+father's advice and waited impatiently for him to come in from the
+porch, where he stood talking with a neighbor, and have breakfast the
+Saturday morning after peace was declared.
+
+Although he was only a boy of thirteen at the time, Morris never
+forgot how the parlor looked that day with the flag draped over
+Harry's picture taken in uniform, the pale sunshine of early spring
+streaming upon the bright red geranium plant on the marble-topped
+table. There was a large tidy on the table, a doily his mother had
+crotched, his mother who started up with a cry of alarm as Mr.
+Rosenfelt entered, his face white with terror.
+
+"Harry----" was all she could say for a moment. Then, when she could
+control her voice a little: "Has anything happened to our Harry?"
+
+Her husband shook his head. "No," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone
+that contrasted strangely with his dreadful pallor. "Harry, thank God,
+is safe and will soon be on his way home. But President Lincoln----"
+
+"Yes?" cried Mrs. Rosenfelt, "the president?"
+
+"He was shot last evening by an assassin. He has just died," answered
+her husband, and he spoke as one speaks of a dear friend.
+
+"It can't be true," cried Morris, hotly. "No one would hurt him--he
+was so good--we all loved him so." The tears ran down his face as he
+spoke and for once he was not ashamed to have his father see him cry.
+Without another word he turned and ran upstairs to his own room. The
+little blue bank still standing upon the dresser hurt him with a
+sudden memory. He was comparatively rich now, but he hated the fifteen
+dollars he had saved with so much eagerness through the years of
+patient waiting.
+
+The money, still unspent, lay in Morris's wallet the day Mr. Lincoln
+came home to Springfield. The humble rail splitter had returned to his
+home town in kingly triumph. As his funeral train crossed the
+continent, every great city, every tiny village, crape-hung and
+grief-stricken, had sent its citizens to do him homage. Even the
+farmers from the scattered farms along the way lit funeral pyres as
+the dark procession thundered past through the night. Now the citizens
+of Chicago stood bowed in grief as the body of the martyred president
+was borne through the silent streets. Strong men wept openly and
+unashamed; but Morris, standing at his father's side on the curbing,
+did not cry. Somehow, it all seemed too terrible for tears. And,
+because he was just a small boy, after all not the least of his grief
+was the thought that now it was too late to send Mr. Lincoln his
+present.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAND COLUMBUS FOUND
+
+_The Story of the Tablet Placed Upon the Statue of Liberty in New
+York Harbor._
+
+
+This isn't a story at all, just a sort of "good-bye" word to the boys
+and girls who have read these tales of Jewish men and women who tried
+to do their part in the making of America. Do you remember away back
+to the first one, the story of the Jews who from Columbus's flag ship
+dreamed of the promised land, but never knew that the continent their
+admiral discovered would some day be a place of refuge for their race?
+Now, every year, thousands of men and women and children, a great many
+of our own people among them, seek a refuge here. If you go to Ellis
+Island, you may see them entering this New World where they hope to
+find home and happiness. I have seen them with their baskets and their
+bundles of household goods, their little children in their arms, (do
+you remember how Reuben wandered through the storm carrying his little
+son?), crossing the gang plank of the steamer which brings them to the
+island, raising their tired eyes in mute gratitude to the American
+flag which floats above them as they pass. And from where I stood I
+could also see the great Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, the
+woman with the light in her hand to guide the weary wanderers across
+the sea.
+
+If you visit this statue, boys and girls, you will see at the base a
+bronze tablet with a short poem engraved upon it. The poem was written
+by a Jewish woman, Emma Lazarus, our first and greatest Jewish
+American poet. As a girl she had cared little for the history and
+traditions of her people; her verses were about the gods of Greece and
+Rome and the legends of the Middle Ages. Then, when the dreadful
+persecution of our people in Russia in 1881 drove many of them to our
+shores, she was called upon to assist in caring for some of the
+homeless wanderers and, like a loving mother, she gathered them to her
+heart.
+
+Something new and beautiful awoke in her soul and she gave her
+strength and energy in caring for these exiles of her own blood. When
+she wrote now it was of her people. She read our long and wonderful
+history and immortalized the heroism of our martyrs in such poems as
+her tragedy, "The Dance to Death." She wrote shorter verses, too, and
+there are few Jewish boys and girls who have not recited or at least
+heard her stirring Chanukkah recitations, "The Feast of Lights," and
+"The Banner of the Jew." Her poems had always been very beautiful,
+winning the praises of such a high critic as Ralph Waldo Emerson, but
+now they glowed with a new beauty, her love and new found kinship with
+her race.
+
+It was her passionate love for America and her knowledge of all that
+our country means to the Jew, both the native-born and the persecuted
+wanderer from other lands, that made her see in the Statue of Liberty
+more than a mere mass of sculptured stone. Instead she saw a gracious,
+loving woman guarding the gates of the New World, not like the ancient
+giant figure striding the harbor at Rhodes, a haughty menace to the
+nations, but a symbol of welcome and freedom and justice to all
+mankind. So she wrote her verses, to be inscribed later at the
+statue's base, telling as only a great poet could what America means
+to her children.
+
+    Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
+    With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
+    Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
+    A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
+    Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
+    Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
+    Glows world-wide welcome: her mild eyes command
+    The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
+    "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
+    With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
+    Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
+    The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
+    Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
+    I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+    | Typographical errors corrected in text:                   |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Page  29: her's replaced with hers                        |
+    | Page  31: her's replaced with hers                        |
+    | Page  58: earings replaced with earrings                  |
+    | Page  63: Pharoah replaced with Pharaoh                   |
+    | Page  71: 'For if your are discovered' replaced with      |
+    |           'For if you are discovered'                     |
+    | Page  76: 'Your are to grow weaker' replaced with         |
+    |           'You are to grow weaker'                        |
+    | Page  77: 'wrists and angles' replaced with               |
+    |           'wrists and ankles'                             |
+    | Page  78: abuot replaced with about                       |
+    | Page  89: Hussiel replaced with Hushiel (twice)           |
+    | Page  91: Hussiel replaced with Hushiel                   |
+    | Page  92: hosts's replaced with hosts'                    |
+    | Page  93: persade replaced with persuade                  |
+    | Page 102: Hushel replaced with Hushiel                    |
+    | Page 119: earings replaced with earrings                  |
+    | Page 123: pears replaced with pearls                      |
+    | Page 144: wainted replaced with waited                    |
+    | Page 151: 'love like your's' replaced with                |
+    |           'love like yours'                               |
+    | Page 152: 'Irving's eyes met her's' replaced with         |
+    |           'Irving's eyes met hers'                        |
+    | Page 154: befor replaced with before                      |
+    | Page 159: her's replaced with hers                        |
+    |                                                           |
+    |                                                           |
+    | Note that the printers' error on page 32, which starts    |
+    | with "Samuel's eyes sought the governor's face, half- he  |
+    | told her, gently." has been left as is. Every copy of     |
+    | the story consulted has the same error.                   |
+    |                                                           |
+    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 01:55:49 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 01:55:49 -0700
commit	64175c6db1c741985e449f63aaeab1d389e43ccb (patch)
tree	225a005141684ea5862af26b5941bcbb54b115f8