IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL 
 
 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE;" "THE STORY OF THE RESURREC- 
 TION;" "Bio BROTHER;" "THE LITTLE COLONEL." 
 
 CINCINNATI: CURTS & JENNINGS 
 
 NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 
 
 1896
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 BY CURTS & JENNINGS, 
 1896.
 
 TO THE EFWORTH LEAGUE. 
 
 What Paul was to the Gentiles, may you, the Young 
 Apostle of our Church, become to the Jews. Surely, not as 
 the priest or the Levite have you so long passed them by u on 
 the other side." 
 
 Haply, being a messenger on the King's business, which 
 requires haste, you have never noticed their need. But the 
 world sees, and, re-reading an old parable, cries out: ""Who 
 is thy neighbor ? Is it not even Israel also, in thy midst ?" 
 
 2229442
 
 fcnowest tbou wbat argument 
 
 life to tbB neighbor's creeo bas lent. 
 
 EMERSON. 
 
 4
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE, 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA, 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON "LOOKOUT," 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN EPWORTH JEW, 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 "TRUST," 86 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Two TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S LANE 105 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 JUDGE HAU<AM'S DAUGHTER, STENOGRAPHER, . .115 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST 130 
 
 5
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND, 145 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY, 163 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 "You KIPPUR," 186 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 DR. TRENT, 189 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL, 220 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 HERZENRUHE, 241 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE, 261 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A "WATCH-NIGHT" CONSECRATION, 275 
 
 SILENT KEYS, 297
 
 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 
 
 T was growing dark in the library, 
 but the old rabbi took no notice of 
 the fact. As the June twilight 
 deepened, he unconsciously bent 
 nearer the great volume on the table before him, 
 till his white beard lay on the open page. 
 
 He was reading aloud in Hebrew, and his 
 deep voice filled the room with its musical in- 
 tonations: "Praise Him, ye heavens of heavens, 
 and ye waters that be above the heavens." 
 
 He raised his head and glanced out toward 
 the western sky. A star or two twinkled through 
 the fading afterglow. Pushing the book aside, 
 he walked to the open window and looked up. 
 
 There was a noise of children playing on the 
 pavement below, and the rumbling of an electric 
 
 7
 
 8 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 car in the next street. A whiff from a passing 
 cigar floated up to him, and the shrill whistle of 
 a newsboy with the evening paper. 
 
 But Abraham at the door of his tent, Moses 
 in the Midian desert, Elijah by the brook 
 Cherith, were no more apart from the world 
 than this old rabbi at this moment. 
 
 He saw only the star. He heard only the in- 
 ward voice of adoration, as he stood in silent com- 
 munion with the God of his fathers. 
 
 His strong, rugged features and white beard 
 suggested the line of patriarchs so forcibly, that 
 had a robe and sandals been substituted for the 
 broadcloth suit he wore, the likeness would have 
 been complete. 
 
 He stood there a long time, with his lips 
 moving silently; then suddenly, as if his un- 
 spoken homage demanded voice, he caught up 
 his violin. Forty years of companionship had 
 made it a part of himself. 
 
 The depth of his being that could find no 
 expression in words, poured itself out in the 
 passionately reverent tones of his violin. 
 
 In such exalted moods as this it was no 
 earthly instrument of music. It became to him 
 a veritable Jacob's ladder, on which he heard
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 9 
 
 the voices of the angels ascending and descend- 
 ing, and on whose trembling rounds he climbed 
 to touch the Infinite. 
 
 There was a quick step on the stairs, and a 
 heavy tread along the upper hall. Then the 
 portiere was pushed aside and a voice of the 
 world brought the rhapsody to a close. 
 
 "Where are you, Uncle Ezra? It is too 
 dark to see, but your fiddle says that you are at 
 home." 
 
 "Ah, David, my boy, come in and strike 
 a light. I wondered why you were so late." 
 
 "I was out on my wheel," answered the 
 young man. "Cycling is warm work this time 
 of year." 
 
 He lighted the gas and threw himself lazily 
 down among the pile of cushions on the couch. 
 
 "I had a letter from Marta to-day." 
 
 "And what does the little sister have to say?" 
 answered the rabbi, noticing a frown deepening 
 on David's forehead. "I suppose her vacation 
 has commenced, and she will soon be on her way 
 home again." 
 
 "No," answered David, with a still deeper 
 frown. "She has changed all her plans, and 
 wants me to change mine, just to suit the Her-
 
 10 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 rick family. She has gone to Chattanooga with 
 them, and they are up on Lookout Mountain. 
 She wants me to meet her there and spend part 
 of the summer with her. She grows more in- 
 fatuated with Frances Herrick every day. You 
 know they have been inseparable friends since 
 they first started to kindergarten." 
 
 "Why did she go down there without con- 
 sulting you?" asked the old man impatiently. 
 "You should be both father and mother to her, 
 now that neither of your parents is living. I 
 wish I were really your uncle and hers, 
 that I might have some authority. You must 
 be more careful of her, my boy. She should 
 spend this summer with you at home, instead 
 of with strangers in a hotel." 
 
 "But, Uncle Ezra," protested David, quick 
 to excuse the little sister, who was the only one 
 in the world related to him by family ties, "at 
 home there is nobody but the housekeeper. 
 Mrs. Herrick is with the girls now, and the ma- 
 jor will join them next week. Marta is just like 
 one of the family, and I have encouraged the 
 intimacy, because I felt that Mrs. Herrick gives 
 her the motherly care she needs. Besides, Marta 
 and Frances are so congenial in every way that
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 11 
 
 they find their greatest happiness together. I 
 tell them they are as bad as Ruth and Naomi. 
 It is a case of Svhere thou goest I will go/ etc." 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the rabbi, fer- 
 vently. "Do you remember that the rest of that 
 declaration is, 'Thy people shall be my people, 
 and thy God my God?' David, my son, I tell 
 you there is great danger of the child's being led 
 away from the faith. Your father and hers 
 was my dearest friend. I have loved you chil- 
 dren like my own. You must heed my warn- 
 ing, and discourage such intimacy with a Gentile 
 family, especially when it includes such an agree- 
 able member as that young Albert Herrick." 
 
 "Why, he is only a boy, Uncle Ezra." 
 
 "Yes, but he is older than Marta, and they 
 are thrown constantly together." 
 
 David looked down at the carpet, and began 
 absently tracing a pattern with his foot. He 
 was thinking of the little sixteen-year-old sis- 
 ter. The seven years' difference in their ages 
 gave him a fatherly feeling for her. He could 
 not bear the thought of interfering seriously 
 with her pleasure, yet he could not ignore the 
 old man's warning. 
 
 Rabbi Barthold had been his tutor in both
 
 12 IN 1,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 languages and music. Aside from a few years 
 at college, all that he knew had been learned 
 under the old man's wise supervision. 
 
 "Ezra, my friend," said the elder David, 
 when he lay dying, "take my child and make 
 him a man after your own pattern. I know 
 your noble soul. Give his the same strength 
 and sweetness. We are so greedy for the flesh- 
 pots of Egypt, that we forget to satisfy the soul 
 hunger. But you will teach the little fellow 
 higher things." 
 
 Later, when the end had almost come, his 
 hand groped out feebly towards the child, who 
 had been brought to his bedside. 
 
 "Never mind about the shekels, little 
 David," he said in a hoarse, broken whisper. 
 "But clean hands and a pure heart that 's all 
 that counts when you 're in your coffin." 
 
 The child's eyes grew wide with wonder 
 as a paroxysm of pain contracted the beloved 
 face. He was led quickly away, but those words 
 were never forgotten. 
 
 The rabbi was thinking of them now as he 
 studied the handsome features of the young fel- 
 low before him. 
 
 It was a strong face, but refinement and
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 13 
 
 gentleness showed in every line. There was 
 something so boyish and frank, also, in its ex- 
 pression, that a tender smile moved the rabbi's 
 lips. "Clean hands and a pure heart," he said 
 fondly to himself. "He has them. Ah, mv, 
 David, if thou couldst but see how .thy little 
 one has grown, not only in stature, but in soul- 
 life, in ideals, thou would'st be satisfied." 
 
 "Well," he said aloud, as the young man 
 left his seat and began to walk up and down 
 the room with his hands in his pockets, "what 
 are you going to do?" 
 
 "I scarcely know," was the hesitating an- 
 swer. "It would not be wise to send for Marta 
 to come home, for the reason you suggest, and 
 I have no other tv offer her." 
 
 "Then go to her!" the rabbi exclaimed. 
 "You need not tell her that you have any fear 
 of her being influenced by Gentile society 
 but never for a moment let her forget that she 
 is a Jewess. Kindle her pride in her race. 
 Teach her loyalty to her people, and love for 
 all that is Hebrew." 
 
 "But my Hudson Bay trip?" David sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "That can wait. The Tennessee mountains
 
 14 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 will give you as good a summer outing as you 
 need, and you can play guardian angel for 
 Marta while you take it." 
 
 David laughed, and took another turn 
 across the room. Then he paused beside the 
 table, and picked up a newspaper. 
 
 "I wonder what connections the trains make 
 now," he said. "There used to be a long wait 
 at a dismal old junction." He glanced hastily 
 over the time-table. 
 
 "Why, look here!" he exclaimed. "Here 
 is a cheap excursion to Chattanooga this next 
 week. I could afford to run down and see 
 Marta, anyhow. Maybe I could persuade her 
 to come back with me, if I promised to take her 
 to Hudson Bay with me." 
 
 "What kind of an excursion?" asked the 
 rabbi. 
 
 "Epworth League, it says here, whatever 
 that may be. It seems to be some sort of an 
 international convention, and says to apply to 
 Frank B. Marion for particulars." 
 
 "Marion," repeated the rabbi, thoughtfully. 
 "O, then it is a Methodist affair. He is not only 
 the head and shoulders of that big Church on 
 Garrison Avenue, but hands and feet as well,
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 15 
 
 judging by the way he works for it. I wish my 
 congregation would take a few lessons from 
 him." 
 
 "Is he very tall, with a short, brown beard, 
 and blue eyes, and a habit of shaking hands 
 with everybody?" asked David. "I believe 
 I know the man. I met him on the cars last 
 fall. He 's lively company. I 've a notion to 
 hunt him up, and find what 's going on." 
 
 "Telephone out to Hillhollow that you will 
 not be at home to-night," said the rabbi, "and 
 stay in the city with me. If you conclude to 
 go to Chattanooga next week, I have much to 
 say to you before taking leave of you for the 
 summer." 
 
 "Very well," consented David. "I'll go 
 down town immediately, and see if I can find this 
 Mr. Marion. What is his business, do you 
 know?" 
 
 "A wholesale shoe merchant, I believe. He 
 is in that big new building next to Cohen's 
 furniture-store, on Duke Street. But you '11 
 not find him Wednesday night. They have 
 Church in the middle of the week, and he is 
 one of the few Christians whose life is as loud as 
 his profession."
 
 16 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 David smiled a little bitterly. "Then I 
 shall certainly cultivate his acquaintance for 
 the purpose of studying such a rara avis, it 
 has never been my lot to know a Christian who 
 measured up to his creed." 
 
 "Do not grow cynical, my lad," answered the 
 old man, gently. "I have made you a dreamer 
 like myself. I have kept you in an atmosphere 
 of high ideals. I have led you into the compan- 
 ionship of all that was heroic in the past, and 
 held you apart as much as possible from the 
 sordid selfishness of the age. O, I grow sick 
 at heart sometimes when I stroll through the 
 great centers of trade, watching the fierce strug- 
 gle of humanity as they snatch the bread from 
 other mouths to feed their own. 
 
 "You remember our Hebrew word for teach 
 comes from tooth, and means to make sharp like 
 a tooth. Sometimes I think that primitive idea 
 has become the popular view of education in 
 this day. Anything that will fit a man to bite 
 and cut his way through this hungry wolf-pack 
 is what is sought after, no matter how many of his 
 kind are trampled under foot in the struggle. 
 I am almost afraid for you to step down from 
 the place where I have kept you. When you
 
 THE; RABBI'S PROTEGE. 17 
 
 are thrown with men who care for nothing but 
 material things, who would barter not only their 
 birthrights but their souls for a mess of pottage, 
 I. am afraid you. will lose faith in humanity." 
 
 "That is quite likely, Uncle Ezra." 
 
 "Aye, but 1 would not have it so, David. 
 The world is certainly growing a little less savage, 
 and in every nature smolders some spark, how- 
 ever small, of the eternal good. No matter how 
 we have fallen, we still bear the imprint of the 
 Creator, in whose likeness we were first fash- 
 ioned." 
 
 Rabbi Barthold had been right in calling 
 himself a dreamer. The ability to live apart 
 from his surroundings, had been his greatest 
 comfort. Because of it, the rigor of extreme 
 poverty that surrounded his early life had not 
 touched his heart with its baneful chill. He had 
 gone through the world a happy optimist. 
 
 He had been trained according to the most 
 strictly orthodox system of Judaism. But even 
 its severe pressure had failed to confine him to 
 the limits of such a narrow mold. 
 
 He was still a dreamer. In the new world 
 he had cast aside the shackles of tradition for 
 the larger liberty of the Reformed Jew. 
 
 2 *
 
 18 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Now in his serene old age, surrounded by 
 luxuries, he still lived apart in a world of music 
 and literature. 
 
 His congregation, broken loose from the old 
 moorings, drifted dangerously away towards 
 radicalism, but he stood firm in the belief that 
 the "chosen people" would finally triumph over 
 all error, and found much comfort in the 
 thought. 
 
 David took out his watch. "It is after eight 
 o'clock," he said. "Probably if I walk down 
 Garrison Avenue, I may meet Mr. Marion com- 
 ing from Church. I '11 be back soon." 
 
 People were beginning to file out of the side 
 entrance that led to the prayer-meeting room, 
 by the time he reached the church. 
 
 "Is Mr. Frank Marion in here?" he asked of 
 the colored janitor, who was standing in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Yes, sah !" was the emphatic response. "He 
 sut'n'y is, sah ! He am always the fust to come, 
 an' the last to depaht." 
 
 "Why, good evening, Mr. Herschel," ex- 
 claimed a pleasant voice. 
 
 David turned quickly to lift his hat. An 
 elderly lady was coming down the steps with
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 19 
 
 
 
 two young girls. She came up to him with a 
 smile, and held out her hand. 
 
 "I have not seen you since you came back 
 from college," she said, cordially; "but I never 
 lose my interest in any of Rob's playmates." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Bond," he replied, with 
 his hat still in his hand. 
 
 As she passed on, a swift rush of recollection 
 brought back the big attic where he had passed 
 many a rainy day with Rob Bond. He recalled 
 \vith something of the old boyish pleasure a cer- 
 tain jar on their pantry shelf, where the most de- 
 licious ginger-snaps were always to be found. 
 
 But the next moment the smile left his lips, 
 as an exclamation of one of the girls was car- 
 ried back to him. It was made in an under- 
 tone, but the still evening air transmitted it 
 with startling distinctness. 
 
 "Why, Auntie, he's a Jew! I didn't 
 think you would shake hands with a Jew!" 
 
 He could not hear Mrs. Bond's reply. He 
 drew himself up haughtily. Then the indignant 
 flash died out of his eyes. After all, why should 
 he, with the princely blood of Israel in his veins, 
 care for the callow prejudices of a little school- 
 girl?
 
 20 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 
 
 A crowd of people passed out, laughing and 
 talking. Then he saw Mr. Marion come into 
 the vestibule with several boys, just as the jan- 
 itor began to extinguish the lights. 
 
 He turned to David with a hearty smile 
 and a strong hand-clasp, recognizing him in- 
 stantly. 
 
 "How are you, brother?" he asked. He 
 spoke with a slight Southern accent. Somehow, 
 David felt forcibly that it was not merely as a 
 matter of habit that Frank Marion called him 
 brother. Such a warm, personal interest seemed 
 to speak through the friendly blue eyes looking 
 so honestly into his own, that he was half-way 
 persuaded to go to Chattanooga with him before 
 a word had been said on the subject. They 
 walked several blocks together up the avenue, 
 discussing the excursion. Then Mr. Marion 
 stopped at the gate of an old-fashioned resi- 
 dence, built some distance back from the street. 
 
 "I have a message to deliver to Miss Hallam, 
 a cousin of mine," he said. "If you will wait 
 a moment, I '11 go with you over to the office." 
 
 The front door stood open, and the hall-lamp 
 sent a flood of yellow light streaming out into 
 the warm, June darkness.
 
 THE RABBI'S PROTEGE. 21 
 
 In response to Mr. Marion's knock, there 
 was a flutter of a white dress in the hall, and the 
 next instant the massive old doorway framed a 
 picture that the young Jew never forgot. It 
 was Bethany Hallam. The light seemed to make 
 a halo of her golden hair, and to illuminate 
 her dress and the sweet upturned face with such 
 an ethereal whiteness that David was reminded 
 of a Psyche in Parian marble. 
 
 "Who is she?" he exclaimed, as Mr. Marion 
 rejoined him. "One never sees a face like that 
 outside of some artist's conception. It is too 
 spirituelle for this planet, but too sad for any 
 other." 
 
 "She is Judge Hallam's daughter," Mr. 
 Marion responded. "He died last fall, and 
 Bethany is grieving herself to death. I have at 
 last persuaded her to go to Chattanooga with 
 us. She needs to have' her thoughts turned into 
 another channel, and I. hope this trip will ac- 
 complish that purpose." 
 
 "I knew the Judge," said David. "I met 
 him a number of times after I was admitted 
 to the bar." 
 
 "O, I did n't know you were a lawyer," said 
 Mr. Marion.
 
 22 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Yes, I expect to begin practicing here after 
 vacation," he answered. 
 
 "Well, I am going to begin my practice 
 right now," said Mr. Marion, laughing, "and 
 plead my case to such purpose that you will be 
 persuaded to take this Chattanooga trip." He 
 slipped his arm through David's, and drew him 
 around the corner toward his store.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 "ON TO CHATTANOOGA." 
 
 T was within three minutes of time 
 for the south-bound train to start 
 when David Herschel swung him- 
 self on the platform of the Chat- 
 tanooga special. As he settled himself comfort- 
 ably in the first vacant seat, Mr. Marion hurried 
 past him down the aisle with a valise in each 
 hand. He was followed by two ladies. The 
 first one seemed to know every one in the car, 
 judging by the smiles and friendly voices that 
 greeted her apearance. 
 
 "O, we were so afraid you were not coming, 
 Mrs. Marion," cried an impulsive young girl, 
 just in front of David. "It would have been 
 such a disappointment. Is n't she just the dear- 
 est thing in the world?" she rattled on to her com- 
 panion, as Mrs. Marion passed out of hearing. 
 "Well, if she hasn't got Bethany Hallam 
 with her! Of all people to go on an excursion, 
 it seems to me she would be the very last." 
 
 23
 
 24 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Why?" asked the other girl. As that was 
 the question uppermost in David's mind, he 
 listened with interest for the answer. 
 
 U O, she seems so different from other people. 
 Her father always used to treat her as if she 
 were made of a little finer clay than ordinary 
 mortals. When she traveled, it was always in 
 a private car. When she went to lectures or 
 concerts, they always had the best seats in the 
 house. All her teachers taught her at home ex- 
 cept one. She went to the conservatory for her 
 drawing lessons, but a maid came with her in the 
 morning, and her father drove by for her at 
 noon." 
 
 As he listened, David's eyes had followed 
 the tall, graceful girl who was now seating her- 
 self by Mrs. Marion. 
 
 Every movement, as well as every detail of 
 her traveling dress, impressed him with a sense 
 of her refinement and culture. He noticed that 
 she was all in black. A thin veil drawn over 
 her face partially concealed its delicate pallor; 
 but her soft, light hair, drawn up under the little 
 black hat she wore, seemed sunnier than ever 
 by contrast. 
 
 "Isn't she beautiful?" sighed David's talk-
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 25 
 
 ative neighbor. "I used to wish I could change 
 places with her, especially the year when she 
 went abroad to study art; but I wouldn't now 
 for anything in the world." 
 
 "Why?" asked her companion again, and 
 David mentally echoed her interrogation. 
 
 "O, because her father is dead now, and 
 everything is so different. Something happened 
 to their property, so there 's nothing left but the 
 old home. Then her little brother had such a 
 dreadful fall just after the Judge's death. 
 They thought he would die, too, or be a cripple 
 all his life; but I believe he's better now. 
 He is sort of paralyzed, so he has to stay 
 in a wheel-chair; but the doctor says he is grad- 
 ually getting over that, and will be all right 
 after awhile. It 's a very peculiar case, I 've 
 heard. There have only been a few like it. She 
 is studying stenography now, so that she can 
 keep on living in the old home and take care 
 of little Jack." 
 
 "Do you know her?" interrupted the inter- 
 ested listener. 
 
 "No, not very well. I 've always seen her 
 in Church; you know Judge Hallam was one of 
 our best paying members, and rarely missed a
 
 26 IN I,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Sabbath morning service. But they were very 
 exclusive socially. My easel stood next to hers 
 in the art conservatory one term, and we talked 
 about our work sometimes. She used to remind 
 me of Sir Christopher in 'Tales of a Wayside 
 Inn.' Don't you remember? She had that 
 
 ' Way of saying things 
 That made one think o courts and kings, 
 
 And lords and ladies of high degree, 
 So that not having been at court 
 Seemed something very little short 
 Of treason or lese-majesty, 
 Such an accomplished knight was he.' " 
 
 Both girls laughed, and then the lively 
 chatter was drowned by the jarring rumble of 
 the train as it puffed slowly x>ut of the depot. 
 
 "Any one would know this is a Methodist 
 crowd," said Mrs. Marion laughingly, as a dozen 
 happy young voices began to sing an old revival 
 hymn, and it was caught up all over the car. 
 
 "That reminds me," said her husband, reach- 
 ing into his coat pocket, "I have something 
 here that will prevent any mistake if doubt 
 should arise." 
 
 He drew out a little box of ribbon badges 
 and a paper of pins. "Here," he said, "put one
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 27 
 
 on, Ray; we must all show our colors this week. 
 You, too, Bethany." 
 
 "O no, Cousin Frank," she protested. "I 
 am not a member of the League." 
 
 ''That makes no difference," he answered, 
 in his hearty, persistent way. "You ought to 
 be one, and you will be by the time you get 
 back from this conference." 
 
 ''But, Cousin Frank, I never wore a badge 
 in my life," she insisted. "I have always had 
 the greatest antipathy to such things. It makes 
 one so conspicuous to be branded in that way." 
 
 He held out the little white ribbon, threaded 
 with scarlet, and bearing the imprint of the Mal- 
 tese cross. The light, jesting tone was gone. 
 He was so deeply in earnest that it made her feel 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 "Do you know what the colors mean, Beth- 
 any?" Then he paused reverently. "The purity 
 and the blood! Surely, you can not refuse to 
 wear those." 
 
 He laid the little badge in her lap, and passed 
 down the aisle, distributing the others right and 
 left. 
 
 She looked at it in silence a moment, and 
 then pinned it on the lapel of her traveling coat.
 
 28 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Cousin Ray, did*you ever know another 
 such persistent man?" she asked. "How is it 
 that he can always make people go in exactly 
 the opposite way from the one they had in- 
 tended? When he first planned for me to come 
 on this excursion, I thought it was the most 
 preposterous idea I ever heard of. But he put 
 aside every objection, and overruled every ar- 
 gument I could make. I did not want to come 
 at all, but he planned his campaign like a gen- 
 eral, and I had to surrender." 
 
 "Tell me how he managed," said Mrs. 
 Marion. "You know I did not get home from 
 Chicago until yesterday morning, and I have 
 been too busy getting ready to come on this 
 excursion to ask him anything." 
 
 "When he had urged all the reasons he 
 could think of for my going, but without suc- 
 cess, he attacked me in my only vulnerable spot, 
 little Jack. The child has considered Cousin 
 Frank's word law and gospel ever since he joined 
 the Junior League. So, when he was told that 
 my health would be benefited by the trip, and 
 it would arouse me from the despondent, low- 
 Spirited state I had fallen into, he gave me no 
 rest until I promised to go. Jack showed gen-
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 29 
 
 eralship, too. He waited until the night of 
 his birthday. I had promised him a little party, 
 but he was so much worse that day, it had to 
 be postponed. I was so sorry for him that I 
 could have promised him almost anything. The 
 little rascal knew it, too. While I was helping 
 him undress, he put his arms around my neck, 
 and began to beg me to go. He told me that he 
 had been praying that I might change my mind. 
 Ever since he has been in the League he has 
 seemed to get so much comfort out of the belief 
 that his prayers are always answered that I 
 could n't bear to shake his faith. So I promised 
 him." 
 
 "The dear little John Wesley," said Mrs. 
 Marion; "you ought to give him the full benefit 
 of his name, Bethany." 
 
 "Mamma did intend to, but papa said it was 
 as much too big for him as the huge old- 
 fashioned silver watch that Grandfather Brad- 
 ford left him. He suggested that both be laid 
 away until he grew up to fit them." 
 
 "Who is taking care of him in your ab- 
 sence?" was the next question. 
 
 "O, he and Cousin Frank arranged that, too. 
 They sent for his old nurse. She came last
 
 30 IN LEAGUE WITH 
 
 night with her little nine-year-old grandson. 
 Just Jack's age, you see; so he will have some- 
 body to make the time pass very quickly." 
 
 Mrs. Marion stopped her with an exclama- 
 tion of surprise. "Well, I wish you 'd look at 
 Frank! What will he do next? He is actually 
 pinning an Epworth League badge on that 
 young Jew!" 
 
 Bethany turned her head a little to look. 
 "What a fine face he has!" she remarked. "It 
 is almost handsome. He must feel very much 
 out of place among such an aggressive set of 
 Christians. I wonder what he thinks of all these 
 
 songs?" 
 
 Mr. Marion came back smiling. As super- 
 intendent of both Sunday-school and Junior 
 League, he had won the love of every one con- 
 nected with them. His passage through the 
 ca.', as he distributed the badges, was attended 
 by many laughing 'remarks and warm hand- 
 clasps. 
 
 There was a happy twinkle in his eyes when 
 he stopped beside his wife's seat. She smiled up 
 at him as he towered above her, and motioned 
 him to take the seat in front of them. 
 
 "I 'm not going to stay," he said. "I want
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 31 
 
 to bring a young man up here, and introduce 
 him to you. He 's having a pretty lonesome 
 time, I 'm afraid." 
 
 "It must be that Jew," remarked Mrs. 
 Marion. "I know every one else on the car. 
 I do n't see that we are called on to entertain 
 him, Frank. He came with us, simply to take 
 advantage of the excursion rates. I should think 
 he would prefer to be let alone. He must have 
 thought it presumptuous in you to pin that badge 
 on him. What did he say when you did it?" 
 
 Mr. Marion bent down to make himself 
 heard above the noise of the train. 
 
 "I showed him our motto, 'Look up, lift up,' 
 and told him if there was any people in the 
 world who ought to be able to wear such a motto 
 worthily, it was the nation whose Moses had 
 climbed Sinai, and whose tables of stone lifted 
 up the highest standard of morality known to 
 the race of Adam." 
 
 Mrs. Marion laughed. "You would make 
 a fine politician," she exclaimed. "You always 
 know just the right chord to touch." 
 
 "Cousin Frank," asked Bethany, "how does 
 it happen you have taken such an intense in- 
 terest in him?"
 
 32 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 He dropped into the seat lacing theirs, and 
 leaned forward. 
 
 "Well, to begin with, he 's a tine fellow. I 
 have had several talks with him, and have been 
 wonderfully impressed with his high ideals and 
 views of life. But I am free to confess, had I 
 met him ten years ago, I could not have seen 
 any good traits in him at all. I was blinded by 
 a prejudice that I am unable to account for. 
 It must have been hereditary, for it has existed 
 since my earliest recollection, and entirely 
 without reason, as far as I can see. I some- 
 how felt that I was justified in hating the Jews. 
 I had unconsciously acquired the opinion that 
 they were wholly devoid of the finer sensibilities, 
 that they were gross in their manner of living, 
 and petty and mean in business transactions. 
 I took Fagin and Shylock as fair specimens 
 of the whole race. It was, really, a most un- 
 accountable hatred I had for them. My teeth 
 would actually clinch if I had to sit next to one 
 on a street-car. You may think it strange, but 
 I was not alone in the feeling. I know it to be 
 a fact that there are hundreds and hundreds 
 of Church members to-day that have the same 
 inexplicable antipathy."
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 33 
 
 Bethany looked up quickly. 
 
 u My father's reading and training," she 
 said, "has caused me to have a great admiration 
 and respect for Jews in the abstract. I mean 
 such as the Old Testament heroes and the Mac- 
 cabees of a later date. But in the concrete, I 
 must say I like to have as little intercourse with 
 them as possible. And as to modern Israelites, 
 all I know of them personally is the almost 
 cringing obsequiousness of a few wealthy mer- 
 chants with whom 1 have dealt, and the dirty 
 swarm of repulsive creatures that infest the 
 tenement districts. We used to take a short 
 cut through those streets sometimes in driving 
 to the market. Ugh! It was dreadful!" She 
 gave a little shiver of repugnance at the recol- 
 lection. 
 
 "Yes, I know," he answered. "I had that 
 same feeling the greater part of my life. But 
 ten years ago I spent a summer at Chautauqua, 
 studying the four Gospels. It opened my eyes, 
 Bethany. I got a clearer view of the Christ 
 than I ever had before. I saw how I had been 
 misrepresenting him to the world. The incon- 
 sistencies of my life seemed like the lanterns 
 the pirates used to hang on the dangerous cliffs 
 
 3
 
 S4 IN t,EAGim WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 along the coast, that vessels might be wrecked 
 by their misleading light. Do you suppose a 
 Jew could have accepted such a Christ as I rep- 
 resented then? No wonder they fail to recog- 
 nize their Messiah in the distorted image that 
 is reflected in the lives of his followers." 
 
 "But they rejected Christ himself when he 
 was among them," ventured Bethany. 
 
 "Yes," answered Mr. Marion, "it was like 
 the old story of the man with a muck rake. Do 
 you remember that picture that was shown to 
 Christian at the interpreter's house in 'Pilgrim's 
 Progress?' As a nation, Israel had stooped so 
 much to the gathering of dry traditions, had 
 bent so long over the minute letter of the law, 
 that it could not straighten itself to take the 
 crown held out to it. It could not even lift its 
 eyes to discern that- there was a crown just over 
 its head." 
 
 "It always made me think of the blind 
 Samson," said Mrs. Marion. "In trying to over- 
 throw something it could not see, spiritually 
 I mean, it pulled down the pillars of prophecy 
 on its own head." 
 
 Mr. Marion turned to Bethany again. 
 
 "Yes, Israel, as a nation, rejected Christ;
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 35 
 
 but who was it that wrote those wonderful 
 chronicles of the Nazarene? Who was it that 
 went out ablaze with the power of Pentecost 
 to spread the deathless story of the resurrection? 
 Who were the apostles that founded our Church ? 
 To whom do we owe our knowledge of God 
 and our hope of redemption, if not to the Jews? 
 A\ r e forget, sometimes, that the Savior himself 
 belonged to that race we so reproach." 
 
 He was talking so earnestly, he had for- 
 gotten his surroundings, until a light touch on 
 his shoulder interrupted him. 
 
 "What 's the occasion of all this eloquence, 
 Brother Marion?" asked the minister's genial 
 voice. 
 
 He turned quickly to smile into the frank, 
 smooth-shaven face bending over him. 
 
 "Come, sit down, Dr. Bascom. We 're dis- 
 cussing my young friend back there, David 
 Herschel. Have you met him?" 
 
 "Yes, I was talking with him a little while 
 ago," answered the minister. "He seems very 
 reserved. Queer, what an intangible barrier 
 seems to arise when we talk to one of that race. 
 I just came in to tell you that Cragmore is in the 
 next car. He got on at the last station."
 
 36 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "What, George Cragmore!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Marion, rising quickly. "I have n't seen him for 
 two years. 1 '11 bring him in here, Kay, after 
 awhile." 
 
 "That 's the last we '11 see of him till lunch- 
 time," said Mrs. Marion, as the door banged 
 behind the two men. 
 
 "Frank will never think of us again when he 
 gets to spinning yarns with Mr. Cragmore. I 
 want you to meet him, Bethany. He is one of 
 the most original men I ever heard talk. He 's 
 a young minister from the 'auld sod.' They 
 called him the 'wild Irishman ' when he first 
 came over, he was so fiery and impetuous. 
 There is enough of the brogue left yet in his 
 speech to spice everything he says. He and 
 Frank are a great deal alike in some things. 
 They are both tall and light-haired. They both 
 have a deep vein of humor and an inordinate 
 love of joking. They are both so terribly in 
 earnest with their Christianity that everybody 
 around them feels the force of it; and when they 
 once settle on a point, they are so tenacious 
 nothing can move them. I often tell Frank 
 he is worse than a snapping-turtle. Tradition 
 says they do let go when it thunders, but noth-
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 37 
 
 ing will make him let go when his mind is once 
 clinched." 
 
 There was a stop of twenty minutes at noon. 
 At the sound of a noisy gong in front of the 
 station restaurant, Mr. Clarion came in with 
 his friend. Capacious lunch-baskets were 
 opened out on every side, with the generous 
 abundance of an old-time camp-meeting. 
 
 "Where is Herschel?" inquired Mr. Marion. 
 "I intended to ask him to lunch with us." 
 
 "I saw him going into the restaurant," re- 
 plied his wife. 
 
 "You must have a talk with him this after- 
 noon, George," said Mr. Marion. "I 've been 
 all up and down this train trying to get people 
 to be neighborly. I believe Dr. Bascom is the 
 only one who has spoken to him. They were 
 all having such a good time when I interrupted 
 them, or they did n't know what to say to a 
 Jew, and a dozen different excuses." 
 
 "O, Frank, do n't get started on that sub- 
 ject again!" exclaimed Mrs. Marion. "Take a 
 sandwich, and forget about it." 
 
 Bethany Hallam laughed more than once 
 during the merry luncheon that followed. She 
 could not remember that she had laughed be-
 
 38 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 fore since her father's death. The young Irish- 
 man's ready wit, his droll stories, and odd ex- 
 pressions were irresistible. He seemed a mag- 
 net, too, drawing constantly from Frank Mari- 
 on's inexhaustible supply of fun. 
 
 "You have seen only one side of him," re- 
 marked Mrs. Marion, when her husband had 
 taken him away to introduce David. "While 
 he was very entertaining, I think he has 
 shown us one of the least attractive phases of 
 his character." 
 
 David had felt very much out of place all 
 morning. It was one thing to travel among 
 ordinary Gentiles, as he had always done, and 
 another to be surrounded by those who were con- 
 stantly bubbling over with religious enthusiasm. 
 He did not object to sitting beside a hot-water 
 tank, he said to himself, but he did object to 
 its boiling over on him. 
 
 His neighbors would have been very much 
 surprised could they have known he was study- 
 ing them with keen insight, and finding much 
 to criticise. Even some of their songs were ob- 
 jectionable to him, their catchy refrains remind- 
 ing him of some he had heard at colored min- 
 strel shows.
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 39 
 
 With such an exalted idea of worship as 
 the old rabbi had inculcated in him, it did not 
 seem fitting to approach Deity in song unless 
 through such sonorous utterances as the psalms. 
 Some of these little tinkling, catch-penny tunes 
 seemed profanation. 
 
 He ventured to say as much to George Crag- 
 more. He had very unexpectedly found a con- 
 genial friend in the young minister. It was 
 not often he met a man so keenly alert to 
 nature, so versed in his favorite literature, or 
 of his same sensitive temperament. He felt 
 himself opening his inner doors as he did to no 
 one else but the rabbi. 
 
 A drizzling rain was falling when they be- 
 gan to wind in and out among the mountains of 
 Tennessee, and for miles in their journey a rain- 
 bow confronted them at every turn in the road. 
 It crowned every hilltop ahead of them. It 
 reached its shining ladder of light into every 
 valley. It seemed such a prophecy of what 
 awaited them on the mountain beyond, that some 
 one began to sing, "Standing on the Promises." 
 
 As the full glory of the rainbow flashed 
 on Cragmore's sight, he stopped abruptly in the 
 middle of a sentence. The expression of his face
 
 40 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 seemed to transfigure it. When he turned to 
 David, there were tears in his eyes. 
 
 "O, the covenants of the Old Testament!" 
 he said, in a low tone, that thrilled David with 
 its intensity of feeling. "The Bethels! The 
 Mizpahs! The Ebenezers! See, it is like a 
 pillar of fire leading us to a veritable land of 
 promise." 
 
 Then, with his hand resting on David's knee, 
 he began to talk of the promises of the Bible, 
 till David exclaimed, impulsively: "You make 
 me forget that you are a Christian. You enter 
 into Israel's past even more fully than many of 
 her own sons." 
 
 Cragmore thrust out his hand, in his quick, 
 nervous way, with an impetuous gesture. 
 
 "Why, man!" he cried, relapsing uncon- 
 sciously into the broad brogue of his childhood, 
 "we hold sacred with you the heritage of your 
 past. We look up with you to the same God, 
 the Father; we confess a common faith till we 
 stand at the foot of the cross. There is no 
 great barrier between us only a step one step 
 farther for you to take, and we stand side by 
 side!" 
 
 He laid his hand on David's, and looked into
 
 ON TO CHATTANOOGA. 41 
 
 his eyes with an expression of tender pleading 
 as he added: 
 
 "O, my friend, if you could only see my 
 Savior as he has revealed himself to me! I 
 pray you may! I^do pray you may !" 
 
 It was the first time in David's life any one 
 had ever said such a thing to him. He sat 
 back in his corner of the seat, at loss for an 
 answer. It put an end to their conversation for 
 a while. Cragmore felt that his sympathy had 
 carried him to the point of giving offense. He 
 was relieved when Dr. Bascom beckoned him 
 to share his seat. 
 
 After a while, as the train sped on into the 
 darkness, the passengers subsided in to sleepy 
 indifference. It seemed hours afterward when 
 Mr. Marion clapped him on the shoulder, say- 
 ing briskly, "Wake up, old fellow, we are get- 
 ting into Chattanooga." 
 
 "Let us go in with banners flying," said 
 Dr. Bascom. "I understand that every car-full 
 that has come in, from Maine to Mexico, has 
 corne singing." 
 
 The lights of the city, twinkling through 
 the car-windows, aroused the sleepy passengers 
 with a sense of pleasant anticipations, and when
 
 42 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 they steamed slowly into the crowded depot, 
 it was as "pilgrims singing in the night." 
 
 In the general confusion of the arrival, Mr. 
 Marion lost sight of David. 
 
 "It's too bad!" he exclaimed, in a disap- 
 pointed tone. "I intended to ask him to drive 
 to Missionary Ridge with us to-morrow, and I 
 wanted to introduce him to you, Bethany." 
 
 "I 'in very glad you did n't have the oppor- 
 tunity, Cousin Frank," she said, as she followed 
 him through the depot gates. "He may be 
 very agreeable, and all that, but he 's a Jew, 
 and I do n't care to make his acquaintance." 
 
 The handle of the umbrella she was carry- 
 ing came in collision with some one behind her. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said, turning in 
 her gracious, high-bred way. 
 
 The gentleman raised his hat. It was 
 David Herschel. A stylish-looking little school- 
 girl was clinging to his arm, and a gray-bearded 
 man, whom she recognized as Major Herrick, 
 was walking just behind him. They had come 
 down from the mountain to meet him, and take 
 him to Lookout Inn. As their eyes met, Beth- 
 any was positive that he had overheard her re- 
 mark.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE SUNRISE "SERVICE ON "LOOKOUT." 
 
 ) 
 
 Y some misunderstanding, Bethany 
 and her cousins had been assigned 
 to different homes. 
 
 "It is too late to make any 
 change to-night," said Mrs. Marion, as they left 
 her. "We are only one block further up on 
 this same street. "We will try to make some ar- 
 rangement to-morrow to have you with us." 
 
 Bethany followed her hostess into the wide 
 reception-hall. One of the most elegant homes 
 of the South had opened its hospitable doors to 
 receive them. Ten delegates had preceded her, 
 all as tired and travel-stained as herself. 
 
 During the introductions, Bethany mentally 
 classified them as the most uninteresting lot of 
 people she had seen in a long time. 
 
 "I believe you are the odd one of this party, 
 Miss Hallam," said the hostess, glancing over 
 the assignment cards she held; "so I shall have 
 to ask you to take a very small room. It is 
 
 43
 
 44 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 one improvised for the occasion; but you will 
 probably be more comfortable here alone than 
 in a larger rbom with several others." 
 
 It had never occurred to Bethany that she 
 might have been asked to share an apartment 
 with some stranger, and she hastened to assure 
 her hostess of her appreciation of the little 
 room, which, though very small indeed com- 
 pared with the great dimensions of the others, 
 was quite comfortable and attractive. 
 
 "I have always been accustomed to being by 
 myself," she said, "and it makes no difference 
 at all if it is so far away from the other sleep- 
 ing-rooms. I am not at all timid." 
 
 Yet, when she had wearily locked her door, 
 she realized that she had never been so entirely 
 alone before in all her life. Home seemed so 
 very far away. Her surroundings were so 
 strange. Her extreme weariness intensified her 
 morbid feeling of loneliness. She remembered 
 such a sensation coming to her one night in 
 mid-ocean, but she had tapped on her state-room 
 wall, and her father had come to her imme- 
 diately. Now she might call a weary lifetime. 
 No earthly voice could ever reach him. 
 
 With a throbbing ache in her throat, and
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 45 
 
 hot tears springing to her eyes, she opened her 
 valise and took out a little photograph case of 
 Russia leather. Four pictured faces looked out 
 at her. She was kneeling before them, with 
 her arms resting on the low dressing-table. As 
 she gazed at them intently, a tear splashed 
 down on her black dress. 
 
 "O, it isn't right! It isn't right," she 
 sobbed, passionately, "for God to take every- 
 thing! It would have been so easy for him to 
 let me keep them. How could he be so cruel? 
 How could he take away all that made my life 
 worth living, and then let little Jack suffer so?" 
 
 She laid her head on her arms in a paroxysm 
 of sobbing. Presently she looked up again at 
 her mother's picture. It was a beautiful face, 
 very like her own. It brought back all her 
 happy childhood, that seemed almost glorified 
 now by the remembered halo of its devoted 
 mother-love. 
 
 The years had softened that grief, but it 
 all came back to-night with its old-time bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 The next face was little Jack's a sturdy, 
 wide-awake boy, with mischievous dimples and 
 laughing eyes. But the recollection of all he
 
 46 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 had suffered since his accident, made her feel 
 that she had lost him also, in a way. The 
 physician had assured her that he would be the 
 same vigorous, romping child again; but she 
 found that hard to believe when she thought 
 of his present helpless condition. 
 
 She pressed the next picture to her lips 
 with trembling fingers, and then looked lov- 
 ingly into the eyes that seemed to answer her 
 gaze with one of steadfast, manly devotion. 
 
 "O, it isn't right! It isn't right!" she 
 sobbed again. How it all came back to her 
 the happy June-time of her engagement! the 
 summer days when she dreamed of him, the 
 summer twilights when he came. Every detail 
 was burned into her aching memory, from the 
 first bunch of violets he brought her, to the 
 judge's tender smile when she spread out all 
 her bridal array for him to see. Such shim- 
 mering lengths of the white, trailing satin; such 
 filmy clouds of the soft, white veil, destined 
 never to touch her fair hair! For there was the 
 telegram, and afterward the darkened room, 
 and the darker hour, when she groped her way 
 to a motionless form, and knelt beside it alone. 
 O, how she had clung to the cold hands, and
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 47 
 
 kissed the unresponsive lips, and turned away in 
 an agony of despair! But as she turned, her 
 father's strong arms were folded about her, and 
 his broken voice whispered comfort. 
 
 The dear father! It had been doubly deso- 
 late since he had gone, too. 
 
 Kneeling there, with her head bowed on her 
 arms, she seemed to face a future that was ut- 
 terly hopeless. Except that Jack needed her, 
 she felt that there was absolutely no reason 
 why she should go on living. 
 
 The ticking of her watch reminded her that 
 it was nearly midnight. In a mechanical way, 
 she got up and began to arrange her hair for 
 the night. 
 
 After she had extinguished the light, she 
 pulled aside the curtain, and looked out on the 
 unfamiliar streets. 
 
 The moon had come up. In the dim light 
 the crest of old Lookout towered grimly above 
 the horizon. A verse of one of the Psalms 
 passed through her mind: "I will lift up mine 
 eyesuntothehills,fromwhence cometh my help " 
 
 "No," she whispered, bitterly, "there is no 
 help. God does n't care. He is too far away." 
 
 As she went back to the bed, the words of
 
 48 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 the novice in Muloch's ''Benedetta Minelli" 
 came to her: 
 
 "O weary world, O heavy life, farewell! 
 
 Like a tired child that creeps into the dark 
 To sob itself asleep where none will mark, 
 So creep I to my silent convent cell." 
 
 <4 I wish I could do that," she thought; "lock 
 myself away with my memories, and not be 
 obliged to keep up this empty pretense of living, 
 just as if nothing were changed. It might not 
 be so hard. How I dread to-morrow, with its 
 crowds of strange faces! O, why did I ever 
 come?" 
 
 Next morning, the guests gathered out on 
 the vine-covered piazza to discuss their plans for 
 the day. 
 
 There were two theological students from 
 Boston, a young doctor from Texas, and the 
 son of a wealthy Louisiana planter. A Kansas 
 farmer's wife and her sister, a bright little 
 schoolteacher from an Iowa village, and three 
 pretty Georgia girls, completed the party. 
 
 Bethany sat a little apart from them, won- 
 dering how they could be so greatly interested 
 in such thiners as the most direct car-line to
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON I^OOKOUT. 49 
 
 Missionary Ridge, or the time it would take to 
 "do" the old battle-grounds. 
 
 The youngest Georgia girl was about her 
 own age. She had made several attempts to 
 include Bethany in the conversation, but mis- 
 taking her reserve and indifference for haughti- 
 ness, turned to the Louisiana boy with a remark 
 about unsociable Northerners. 
 
 Their frequent laughter reached Bethany, 
 and she wondered, in a dull way, how anybody 
 could be light-hearted enough even to smile in 
 such a world full of heart-aches. Then she re- 
 membered that she had laughed herself, the day 
 before, when Mr. Cragmore was with them. It 
 rather puzzled her now to know how she could 
 have done so. Her wakeful night had left her 
 unusually depressed. 
 
 An open, two-seated carriage stopped at 
 the gate. Mrs. Marion and George Cragmore 
 were on the back seat. Mr. Marion and Dr. 
 Bascom sat with the driver. Bethany had been 
 waiting for them some time with her hat on, 
 so she went quickly out to meet them. Mr. 
 Cragmore leaped over the wheel to open the 
 gate, and assist her to a seat between himself 
 and Mrs. Marion. 
 
 4
 
 50 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 They drove rapidly out towards Missionary 
 Ridge. To Bethany's great relief, neither of 
 her companions seemed in a talkative mood. 
 Mr. Marion, who was an ardent Southener, had 
 been deep in a political discussion with Dr. Bas- 
 com. As they stopped on the winding road, 
 half way up the ridge, to look down into the 
 beautiful valley below, and across to the purple 
 summit of Lookout, Mr. Marion drew a long 
 breath. Then he took off his hat, saying, rev- 
 erently, "The work of His fingers! What is 
 man, that Thou art mindful of him?" Then, 
 after a long silence: "How insignificant our 
 little differences seem, Bascom, in the sight of 
 these everlasting hills! Let's change the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 Mrs. Marion, absorbed in the beauty on 
 every side, did not notice Bethany's continued 
 silence or Cragmore's spasmodic remarks. The 
 fresh air and brisk motion had somewhat 
 aroused Bethany from her apathy. First, she 
 began to be interested in the constantly-chang- 
 ing view, and then she noticed its effect on 
 the erratic man beside her. 
 
 From the time they commenced to ascend 
 the ridge he had not spoken to any one directly.
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 51 
 
 but everything he saw seemed to suggest a quo- 
 tation. He repeated them unconsciously, as if 
 he were all alone; some -of them dreamily, some 
 of them with startling force, and all with the 
 slight brogue he spoke so musically. 
 
 "Every common bush afire with God," he 
 murmured in an undertone, looking at a dusty 
 wayside weed, with his soul in his eyes. 
 
 Bethany thought to herself, afterwards, that 
 if any other man of her acquaintance had kept 
 up such a steady string of disjointed quotations, 
 it would have been ridiculous. She never heard 
 him do it again after that day. It seemed as if 
 the old battle-fields suggested thoughts that 
 could find no adequate expression save in words 
 that immortal pens had made deathless. 
 
 The warm odor of ripe peaches floated out 
 to them from grassy orchards, where the trees 
 were bent over with their wealth of velvety, sun- 
 reddened fruit. Seemingly, Cragmore had 
 taken no notice of Bethany's depression when 
 she joined them, or of the soothing effect na- 
 ture was having on her sore heart. But she 
 knew that he had seen it, when he turned to 
 her abruptly with a quotation that fitted her as 
 well as his first one had the wayside weed. He
 
 52 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 half sang it, with a tender, wistful smile, as he 
 watched her face. 
 
 " the green things growing, the green things grow- 
 ing 
 
 The faint, sweet smell of the green things growing! 
 
 I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, 
 
 Just to watch the happy life of my green things 
 growing, 
 
 For by many a tender touch, they comfort me so 
 much, 
 
 With the soft, mute comfort of green things growing." 
 
 Bethany wondered if her cousin Frank had 
 told him of all she had suffered, or if he had 
 guessed it intuitively. Somehow she felt that 
 he had not been told, but that he had divined it. 
 Yet when they stopped on the Chickamauga 
 battle-field, and she saw him go leaping across 
 the rough fields like an overgrown boy, she 
 thought of her cousin Ray's remark, "They used 
 to call him the wild Irishman," and wondered 
 at the contradictory phases his character pre- 
 sented. She saw him pause and lay his hand 
 reverently on the largest cannon, and then come 
 running back across the furrows with long, awk- 
 ward jumps. 
 
 "What on earth did you do that for, Crag-
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 53 
 
 more?" asked Mr. Marion, in his teasing way. 
 "The idea of keeping us waiting while you were 
 racing across a ten-acre lot to pat an old gun." 
 
 "Old gun, is it?" was the laughing answer, 
 yet there was a .flash in his eyes that belied 
 the laugh. "Odds, man! it is one of the greatest 
 orators that ever roused a continent. I just 
 wanted to lay my hands on its dumb lips." He 
 waved his arm with an exulting gesture. "Aye, 
 but they spoke in thunder-tones once, the day 
 they spoke freedom to a race." 
 
 He did not take his seat in the carriage for 
 a while, but followed at a little distance, rang- 
 ing the woods on both sides; sometimes plung- 
 ing into a leafy hollow to examine the bark 
 of an old tree where the shells had plowed deep 
 scars; sometimes dropping on his knees to brush 
 away the leaves from a tiny wild-flower, that any 
 one but a true woodsman would have passed 
 with unseeing eyes. Once he brought a rare 
 specimen up to the carriage to ask its name. 
 He had never seen one like it before. That 
 was the only one he gathered. 
 
 "It 's a pity to tear them up, when they 
 would wither in just a few hours," he said; "the 
 solitary places are so glad for them."
 
 54 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "He 's a queer combination," said Dr. Bas- 
 com, as he watched him break a little sprig of 
 cedar from the stump of a battle-broken tree 
 to put in his card-case. "Sometimes he is the 
 veriest clown; at others, a child could not be 
 more artless; and I have seen him a few times 
 when he seemed to be aroused into a spiritual 
 giant. He fairly touched the stars." 
 
 Bethany was so tired by the morning's drive 
 that she did not go to the opening services in 
 the big tent that afternoon. 
 
 "Well, you missed it!" said Mr. Marion, 
 when he came in after supper, "and so did 
 David Herschel." 
 
 "Missed what?" inquired Bethany. 
 
 "The mayor's address of welcome, this after- 
 noon. You know he is a Jew. Such a broad, 
 fraternal speech must have been a revelation 
 to a great many of his audience. I tell you, 
 it was fine! You 're going to-night, are n't you, 
 Bethany?" 
 
 "]STo," she answered, "I want to save myself 
 for the sunrise prayer-meeting on the mountain 
 to-morrow. I saw the sun come up over the 
 Tfigi once. It is a sight worth staying up all 
 night to see."
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 55 
 
 It was about two o'clock in the morning 
 when they started up the mountain by rail. The 
 cars were crowded. People hung on the straps, 
 swaying back and forth in the aisles, as the train 
 lurched around sudden curves. Nothwith- 
 standing the early hour, and the discomfort of 
 their position, they sang all the way up the 
 mountain. 
 
 "Cousin Ray," said Bethany, "do tell me 
 how these people can sing so constantly. The 
 last thing I heard last night before I went to 
 sleep was the electric street-car going past the 
 house, with a regular hallelujah chorus on board. 
 Do you suppose they really feel all they sing? 
 How can they keep worked up to such a pitch 
 all the time?" 
 
 "You should have been at the tent last night, 
 dear," answered Mrs. Marion. "Then you 
 would have gotten into the secret of it. There 
 is an inspiration in great numbers. The audi- 
 ences we are having there are said to be the 
 greatest ever gathered south of the Ohio. Our 
 League at home has been doing very faithful 
 work, but I could n't help wishing last night 
 that every member could have been present. 
 To see ten thousand faces lit up with the same
 
 56 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 interest and the same hope, to hear the battle- 
 cry, 'All for Christ,' and the Amen that rolled 
 out in response like a volley of ten thousand 
 musketry, would have made them feel like a 
 little, straggling company of soldiers suddenly 
 awakened to the fact that they were not fight- 
 ing single-handed, but that all that great army 
 were re-enforcing them. More than that, these 
 were only the advance-guard, for over a million 
 young people are enlisted in the same cause. 
 Think of that, Bethany a million leagued to- 
 gether just in Methodism! Then, when "you 
 count with them all the Christian Endeavor 
 forces, and the Baptist Unions, and the King's 
 Daughters and Sons, and the Young Men's Chris- 
 tian Associations, and the Brotherhood of St. 
 Andrew, it looks like the combined power ought 
 to revolutionize the universe in the next decade." 
 
 "Then you think it is an inspiration of the 
 crowds that makes them sing all the time," said 
 Bethany. 
 
 "By no means!" answered Mrs. Marion. 
 "To be sure, it has something to do with it; but 
 to most of this vast number of young people, 
 their religion is not a sentiment to be fanned 
 into spasmodic flame by some excitement. It
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 57 
 
 is a vital force, that underlies every thought 
 and every act. They will sing at home over their 
 work, and all by themselves, just as heartily as 
 they do here. I remember seeing in Westminster 
 Abbey, one time, the profiles of J ohn and Charles 
 Wesley put side by side on the same medallion. 
 I have thought, since then, it is only a half- 
 hearted sort of Methodism that does not put 
 the spirit of both brothers into its daily life 
 that does not wing its sermons with its songs." 
 
 Hundreds of people had already gathered 
 on the brow of the mountain, waiting the ap- 
 pointed hour. Mr. Marion led the way to a 
 place where nature had formed a great amphi- 
 theater of the rocks. They seated themselves 
 on a long, narrow ledge, overlooking the valley. 
 They were above the clouds. Such billows of 
 mist rolled up and hid the sleeping earth below 
 that they seemed to be looking out on a bound- 
 less ocean. The world and its petty turmoils 
 were blotted out. There was only this one gray 
 peak raising its solitary head in infinite space. 
 It was still and solemn in the early light. They 
 spoke together almost in whispers. 
 
 "I can not believe that any man ever went 
 up into a mountain to pray without feeling him-
 
 58 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 self drawn to a higher spiritual altitude," said 
 Dr. Bascom. 
 
 Frank Marion looked around on the assem- 
 bled crowds, and then said slowly: 
 
 "Once a little Land of five hundred met the 
 risen Lord on a mountain-side in Galilee, and 
 were sent away with the promise, 'Lo, I am with 
 you alway!' Think what they accomplished, 
 and then think of the thousands here this morn- 
 ing that may go back to the work of the valley 
 with the same. promise and the same power! 
 There ought to be a wonderful work accom- 
 plished for the Master this year." 
 
 Cragmore, who had walked away a little 
 distance from the rest, and was watching the 
 eastern sky, turned to them with his face alight. 
 
 "See!" he cried, with the eagerness of a 
 child, and yet with the appreciation of a poet 
 shining in his eyes; "the wings of the morn- 
 ing rising out of the uttermost parts of the sea." 
 
 He pointed to the long bars of light spread- 
 ing like great naming pinions above the horizon. 
 The dawn had come, bringing a new heaven 
 and a new earth. In the solemn hush of the 
 sunrise, a voice began to sing, "Nearer, my God, 
 to thee."
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 59 
 
 It was as in the days of the old temple. 
 They had left the outer courts and passed up 
 into an inner sanctuary, where a rolling cur- 
 tain of cloud seemed to shut them in, till in 
 that high Holy of Holies they stood face to 
 face with the Shekinah of God's presence. 
 
 Bethany caught her breath. There had been 
 times before this when, carried along by the im- 
 petuous eloquence of some sermon or prayer, 
 every fiber of her being seemed to thrill in re- 
 sponse. In her childlike reaching out towards 
 spiritual things, she had had wonderful glimpses 
 of the Fatherhood of God. She had gone 
 to him with every experience of her young life, 
 just as naturally and freely as she had to her 
 earthly father. But when beside the judge's 
 death-bed she pleaded for his life to be spared 
 to her a little longer, and her frenzied appeals 
 met no response, she turned away in rebellious 
 silence. She would pray no more to a dumb 
 heaven," she said bitterly. Her hope had been 
 vain. 
 
 Now, as she listened to songs and prayers 
 and testimony, she began to feel the power that 
 emanated from them, the power of the Spirit, 
 showing her the Father as she had never known
 
 60 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 him before: the Father revealed through the 
 Son. 
 
 Below, the mists began to roll away until 
 the hidden valley was revealed in all its morn- 
 ing loveliness. But how small it looked from 
 such a height! Moccasin Bend was only a sil- 
 ver thread. The outlying forests dwindled to 
 thickets. 
 
 Bethany looked up. The mists began to roll 
 away from her spiritual vision, and she saw her 
 life in relation to the eternities. Self dwindled 
 out of sight. There was no bitterness now, no 
 childish questioning of Divine purposes. The 
 blind Bartimeus by the wayside, hearing the 
 cry, "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by," and, grop- 
 ing his way towards "the Light of the world," 
 was no surer of his dawning vision than Beth- 
 any, as she joined silently in the prayer of con- 
 secration. She saw not only the glory of the 
 June sunrise; for her the "Sun of righteous- 
 ness had arisen, with healing in his wings." 
 
 People seemed loath to go when the serv- 
 ices were over. They gathered in little groups 
 on the mountain-side, or walked leisurely from 
 one point of view to another, drinking in the 
 rare beauty of the morning.
 
 THE; SUNRISE; SERVICE; ON L,OOKOUT. 61 
 
 Bethany walked on without speaking. She 
 was a little in advance of the others, and did 
 not notice when the rest of her party were 
 stopped by some acquaintances. Absorbed in 
 her own thoughts, she turned aside at Prospect 
 Point, and walked out to 'the edge. As she 
 looked down over the railing, the refrain of one 
 of the songs that had been sung so constantly 
 during the last few days, unconsciously rose 
 to her lips. She hummed it softly to herself, 
 over and over, "O, there 's sunshine in my 
 soul to-day." 
 
 So oblivious was she of all surroundings 
 that she did not hear Frank Marion's quick step 
 behind her. He had come to tell her they were 
 going down the mountain by the incline. 
 
 "O, there's sunshine, blessed sunshine!" 
 The words came softly, almost under her breath ; 
 but he heard them, and felt with a quick heart- 
 throb that some thing unusual must have oc- 
 curred to bring any song to her lips. 
 
 "O Bethany!" he exclaimed, "do you mean 
 it, child? Has the light come?" 
 
 The face that she turned towards him was 
 radiant. She could find no words wherewith 
 to tell him her great happiness, but she laid her
 
 62 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 hands in his, and the tears sprang to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Thank God! Thank God!" he exclaimed, 
 Avith a tremor in his strong voice. "It is what 
 I have been praying for. Now you see why I 
 urged you to come. I knew what a mountain- 
 top of transfiguration this would be." 
 
 Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, 
 David Herschel had looked around with great 
 curiosity on the gathering thousands. It was 
 only a little distance from the inn, and he had 
 come down hoping to discover the real motive 
 that had brought these people together from 
 such vast distances. He wondered what power 
 their creed contained that could draw them to 
 this meeting at such an early hour. 
 
 He had felt as keenly as Cragmore the sub- 
 limity of the sunrise. He felt, too, the uplift- 
 ing power of the old hymn, that song drawn 
 from the experience of Jacob at Bethel, that 
 seemed to lift every heart nearer to the Eternal. 
 
 He was deeply stirred as the leader began 
 to speak of the mountain scenes of the Bible, 
 of Abraham's struggles at Moriah, of Horeb's 
 burning bush, of Sinai and ^ebo, of Mount 
 Zion with its thousand hallowed memories. So
 
 THE SUNRISE SERVICE ON LOOKOUT. 63 
 
 far the young Jew could follow him, but not to 
 the greater heights of the Mountain of Beati- 
 tudes, of Calvary, or of Olivet. 
 
 He had never heard such prayers as the ones 
 that followed. Although there can be found 
 no sublimer utterances of worship, no humbler 
 confessions of penitence or more lofty concep- 
 tions of Jehovah, than are bound in the rituals 
 of Judaism, these simple outpourings of the 
 heart were a revelation to him. 
 
 There came again the fulfillment of the 
 deathless words, "And I, if I be lifted up, will 
 draw all men unto me!" O, how the lowly 
 Nazarene was lifted up that morning in that 
 great gathering of his people! How his name 
 was exalted! All up and down old Lookout 
 Mountain, and even across the wide valley of 
 the Tennessee, it was echoed in every song and 
 prayer. 
 
 When the testimony service began, David 
 turned from one speaker to another. What 
 had they come so far to tell? From every 
 State in the Union, from Canada, and from 
 foreign shores, they brought only one story 
 "Behold the Lamb of God!" In spite of him- 
 self, the young Jew's heart was strangely drawn
 
 64 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 to this uplifted Christ. Suddenly he was 
 startled by a ringing voice that cried: "I am a 
 converted Jew. 1 was brought to Christ by a 
 little girl a member of the Junior League. 
 I have given up wife, mother, father, sisters, 
 brothers, and fortune, but I have gained so much 
 that I can say from the depths of my soul, 'Take 
 all the world, but give me Jesus.' I have con- 
 secrated my life to his service." 
 
 David changed his position in order to get 
 a better view of the speaker. He scrutinized 
 him closely. He studied his face, his dress, 
 even his attitude, to determine, if possible, the 
 character of this new witness. He saw a man 
 of medium height, broad forehead, arid firm 
 mouth ovci- which drooped a heavy, dark mus- 
 tache. There was nothing fanatical in the calm 
 face or dignified bearing. His eyes, which were 
 large, dark, and magnetic, met David's with a 
 steady gaze, and seemed to hold them for a 
 moment. 
 
 With a lawyer-like instinct, David longed to 
 probe this man with questions. As he went 
 back to the inn, he resolved to hunt up his his- 
 tory, and find what had induced him to turn 
 away from the faith.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 
 
 i 
 
 EARLY every northern-bound mail- 
 train, since Bethany's arrival in Chat- 
 tanooga, had carried something home 
 to Jack a paper, a postal, souve- 
 nirs from the battle-fields, or views of the moun- 
 tain. Knowing how eagerly he watched for the 
 postman's visits, she never let a day pass with- 
 out a letter. Saturday morning she even missed 
 part of the services at the tent in order to write 
 to him. 
 
 " I have just come back from Grant Uni- 
 versity," she wrote. "Cousin Frank was so in- 
 terested in the Jew who spoke at the sunrise 
 meeting yesterday, because he said a little Jun- 
 ior League girl had been the means of his 
 conversion, that he arranged for an interview 
 with him. His name is Lessing. Cousin Frank 
 asked me to go with him to take the conver- 
 sation do\vn in shorthand for the League. I 
 5 65
 
 66 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 have n't time now to give all the details, but 
 will tell them to you when I come home." 
 
 Bethany had been intensely interested in 
 the man's story. They sat out on one of the 
 great porches of the university, with the moun- 
 tains in sight. They had drawn their chairs 
 aside to a cool, shady corner, where they would 
 not be interrupted by the stream of people con- 
 stantly passing in and out. 
 
 "It is for the children you want my story," 
 he said; "so they must know of my childhood. 
 It was passed in Baltimore. My father was the 
 strictest of orthodox Jews, and I was very faith- 
 fully trained in the observances of the law. He 
 taught me Hebrew, and required a rigid ad- 
 herence to all the customs of the synagogue." 
 
 Bethany rapidly transcribed his words, as 
 he told many interesting incidents of his early 
 home life. He had come to Chattanooga for 
 business reasons, married, and opened a store 
 in St. Elmo, at the foot of Mount Lookout. 
 He was very fond of children, and made friends 
 with all who came into the store. There was 
 one little girl, a fair, curly-haired child, who used 
 to come oftener than the others. She grew to 
 love him dearly, and, in her baby fashion,
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 67 
 
 often talked to him of the Junior League, in 
 which she was deeply interested. 
 
 Her distress when she discovered that he 
 did not love Christ was pitiful. She insisted so 
 on his going to _Church, that one morning he 
 finally consented, just to please her. The ser- 
 mon worried him all day. It had been an- 
 nounced that the evening service would be a 
 continuation of the same subject. He went at 
 night, and was so impressed with the truth of 
 what he heard, that when the child came for 
 him to go to prayer-meeting with her the next 
 week, he did not refuse. 
 
 Towards the close of the service the min- 
 ister asked if any one present wished to pray 
 for friends. The child knelt down beside Mr. 
 Lessing, and to his great embarrassment began 
 to pray for him. "O Lord, save Brother Les- 
 sing!" was all she said, but she repeated it over 
 and over with such anxious earnestness, that it 
 went straight to his heart. 
 
 He dropped on his knees beside her, and 
 began praying for himself. It was not long 
 until he was on his feet again, joyfully confess- 
 ing the Christ he had been taught to despise. 
 In the enthusiasm of this new-found happiness
 
 68 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 he went home and tried to tell his wife of the 
 Messiah he had accepted, but she indignantly 
 refused to listen. Eor months she berated and 
 ridiculed him. When she found that not only 
 were tears and arguments of no avail, but that 
 he felt he must consecrate his life to the min- 
 istry, she declared she would leave him. He 
 sold the store, and gave her all it brought; and 
 she went back to her family in Florida. 
 
 In order to prepare for the ministry he 
 entered the university, working outside of study 
 hours at anything he could find to do. In the 
 meantime he had written to his parents, know- 
 ing how greatly they would be distressed, yet 
 hoping their great love would condone the 
 offense. 
 
 His father's answer was cold and business- 
 like. He said that no disgrace could have come 
 to him that could have hurt him so deeply as 
 the infidelity of his trusted son. If he would 
 renounce this false faith for the true faith of 
 his fathers, he would give him forty thousand 
 dollars outright, and also leave him a legacy of 
 the same amount. But should he refuse the 
 offer, he should be to him as a stranger the
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 69 
 
 doors of both his heart and his house should 
 be forever barred against him. 
 
 His mother, with a woman's tact, sent the 
 pictures of all the family, whom he had not seen 
 for several years. Their faces called up so 
 many happy memories of the past that they 
 pleaded more eloquently than words. It was 
 a sweet, loving letter she wrote to her boy, re- 
 minding him of all they had been to each other, 
 and begging him for her sake to come back to 
 the old faith. But right at the last she wrote: 
 "If you insist on clinging to this false Christ, 
 whom we have taught you to despise, the heart 
 of your father and of your mother must be 
 closed against you, and you must be thrust out 
 from us forever with our curse upon you." 1 
 
 He knew it was the custom. He had been 
 present once when the awful anathema was 
 hurled at a traitor to the faith, withdrawing 
 every right from the outlaw, living or dead. He 
 knew that his grave would be dug in the Jewish 
 cemetery in Baltimore; that the rabbi would 
 read the rites of burial over his empty coffin, 
 and that henceforth his only part in the fam- 
 ily life would be the blot of his disgraceful 
 memory.
 
 70 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 He spread the pictures and the letters on the 
 desk before him. A cold perspiration broke 
 out on his forehead, as he realized the hopeless- 
 ness of the alternative offered him. One by 
 one he took up the photographs of his brothers 
 and sisters, looked at them long and fondly, 
 and laid them aside; then his father's, with its 
 strong, proud face. He put that away, too. 
 
 At last he picked up his mother's picture. 
 She looked straight out at him, with such a 
 world of loving tenderness in the smiling eyes, 
 with such trustful devotion, as if she knew he 
 could not resist the appeal, that he turned away 
 his head. The trial seemed greater than he 
 could bear. He was trembling with the force 
 of it/ Then he looked again into the dear, pa- 
 tient face, till his eyes grew too dim to see. It 
 was the same old mother who had nursed him, 
 who had loved him, who had borne with his 
 waywardness and forgiven him always. He 
 seemed to feel the soft touch of her lips on his 
 forehead as she bent over to give him a good- 
 night kiss. All that she had ever done for him 
 came rushing through his memory so over- 
 whelmingly that he broke down utterly, and 
 began to sob like a child. "0, I can't give her
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 71 
 
 up," lie groaned. "My dear old mother! I 
 can't grieve her so!" 
 
 All that morning he clung to her picture, 
 sometimes walking the floor in his agony, some- 
 times falling on Jiis knees to pray. "God in 
 heaven have pity," he cried. "That a man 
 should have to choose between his mother and 
 his Christ!" At last he rose, and, with one more 
 long look at the picture, laid it reverently away 
 with shaking hands. He had surrendered every- 
 thing. 
 
 He did not tell all this to his sympathizing 
 listeners. They could read part of the pathos 
 of that struggle in his face, part in the voice 
 that trembled occasionally, despite his strong 
 effort to control it. 
 
 Frank Marion's thoughts went back to his 
 own gentle mother in the old homestead among 
 the green hills of Kentucky. As he thought 
 of the great pillar of strength her unfaltering 
 faith had been to him, of how from boyhood it 
 had upheld and comforted and encouraged him, 
 of how much he had always depended upon her 
 love and her prayers, his sympathies were stirred 
 to their depths. He reached out and took Les- 
 sing's hand in his strong grasp.
 
 72 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "God help you, brother!" he said, fervently. 
 
 Bethany turned her head aside, and looked 
 away into the hazy distances. She knew what 
 it meant to feel the breaking of every tie that 
 bound her best beloved to her. She knew what 
 it was to have only pictured faces to look into, 
 and lay away with the pain of passionate long- 
 ing. The question flashed into her mind, could 
 she have made the voluntary surrender that he 
 had made? She put it from her with a throb 
 of shame that she was glad that she had not 
 been so tested. 
 
 Some acquaintance of Mr. Marion, passing 
 down the steps, recognized him, and called back: 
 
 "What time does your speech come on the 
 program, Frank? I understand you are to hold 
 forth to-day." 
 
 Mr. Marion hastily excused himself for a 
 moment, to speak to his friend. 
 
 Bethany sat silent, thinking intently, while 
 she drew unmeaning dots and dashes over the 
 cover of her note-book. 
 
 Mr. Lessing turned to her abruptly. "Did 
 you ever speak to a Jew about your Savior?" 
 he asked, with such startling directness, that 
 Bethany was confused.
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 73 
 
 "No," she said, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Why?" he asked. 
 
 He was looking at her with a penetrating 
 gaze that seemed to read her thoughts. 
 
 "Really," she -answered, "I have never con- 
 sidered the question. I am not very well ac- 
 quainted with any, for one reason; besides, I 
 would have felt that I was treading on forbidden 
 grounds to speak to a Jew about religion. 
 They have always seemed to me to be so in- 
 trenched in their beliefs, so proof against argu- 
 ment, that it would be both a useless and thank- 
 less undertaking." 
 
 "They may seem invulnerable to argu- 
 ments," he answered, "but nobody is proof 
 against a warm, personal interest. Ah, Miss 
 Hallam, it seems a terrible thing to me. The 
 Church will make sacrifices, will cross the seas, 
 will overcome almost any obstacle to send the 
 gospel to China or to Africa, anywhere but to 
 the Jews at their elbows. O, of course, I know 
 there are a few Hebrew missions, scattered here 
 and there through the large cities, and a few 
 earnest souls are devoting their entire energy 
 to the work. But suppose every Christian in 
 the country became an evangel to the little
 
 74 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 community of Jews within the radius of his in- 
 fluence. Suppose a practical, prayerful, indi- 
 vidual effort were made to show them Christ, 
 with the same zeal you expend in sending 'the 
 old story' to the Hottentots. What would be 
 the result? O, if I had waited for a grown 
 person to speak to me about it, I might have 
 waited until the day of my death. I was rest- 
 less. I was dissatisfied. I felt that I needed 
 something more than my creed could give me. 
 For what is Judaism now? I read an answer 
 not long ago: *A religion of sacrifice, to which, 
 for eighteen centuries, no sacrifice has been 
 possible; a religion of the Passover and the Day 
 of Atonement, on which, for well-nigh two mil- 
 lenniums, no lamb has been slain and no atone- 
 ment offered; a sacerdotal religion, with only 
 the shadow of a priesthood; a religion of a 
 temple which has no temple more; its altar is 
 quenched, its ashes scattered, no longer kind- 
 ling any enthusiasm, nor kindled by any hope.'* 
 No man ever took me by the hand and told me 
 about the peace I have now. ~No man ever 
 shared with me his hope, or pointed out the way 
 for me to find it. If it had not been for the 
 
 * Archdeacon Farrar.
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 75 
 
 blessed guiding influence of a little child, my 
 hungry heart might still be crying out un- 
 satisfied." 
 
 He went on to repeat several conversations 
 he had had with men of his own race, to show 
 her how this indifference of Christians was 
 reckoned against them as a glaring inconsistency 
 by the Jews. Almost as if some one had spoken 
 the words to her, she seemed to hear the con- 
 demnation, "I was a hungered, and ye gave me 
 no meat. I was thirsty, and ye gave me no 
 drink. I was a stranger, and ye took me not 
 in. Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye did it not to me." 
 
 Strange as it may seem, Bethany's interpre- 
 tation of that Scripture had always been in a 
 temporal sense. More than once, when a child, 
 she had watched her mother feed some poor 
 beggar, with the virtuous feeling that that con- 
 demnation could not apply to the Hallam fam- 
 ily. But now Lessing's impassioned appeal had 
 awakened a different thought. Who so hun- 
 gered as those who, reaching out for bread, 
 grasped either the stones of a formal ritualism 
 or the abandoned hope of prophecy unfulfilled? 
 Who such "strangers within the gates" of the
 
 76 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 nations as this race without a country? From 
 the brick-kilns of Pharaoh to the willows of 
 Babylon, from the Ghetto of Rome to the 
 fagot-fires along the Rhine, from Spanish 
 cruelties to English extortions, they had been 
 driven exiles and aliens. The New World had 
 \velcomed them. The New World had opened 
 all its avenues to them. Only from the door 
 of Christian society had they turned away, say- 
 ing, "I was a stranger, and ye took me not in." 
 
 In the pause that followed, Bethany's heart 
 went out in an earnest prayer: "O God, in the 
 great day of thy judgment, let not that con- 
 demnation be mine. Only send me some op- 
 portunity, show me some way whereby I may 
 lead even one of the least among them to the 
 world's Redeemer!" 
 
 Mr. Marion came back from his interview, 
 looking at his watch as he did so. It was so near 
 time for services to begin at the tent, that he 
 did not resume his seat. 
 
 "We may never meet again, Mr. Lessing," 
 said Bethany, holding out her hand as she bade 
 him good-bye. "So I want to tell you before 
 I go, what an impression this conversation has 
 made upon me. It has aroused an earnest de-
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 77 
 
 sire to be the means of carrying the hope that 
 comforts me, to some one among your people." 
 
 "You will succeed," he said, looking into 
 her earnest upturned face. Then he added 
 softly, in Hebrew, the old benediction of an 
 olden day "Peace be unto you." 
 
 All that day, after the sunrise meeting, 
 David Herschel had been with Major Herrick, 
 going over the battle-fields, and listening to per- 
 sonal reminiscences of desperate engagements. 
 A monument was to be erected on the spot 
 where nearly all the major's men had fallen 
 in one of the most hotly-contested battles of the 
 war. He had come down to help locate the 
 place. 
 
 "It 's a very different reception they are 
 giving us now," remarked the major, as they 
 drove through the city. 
 
 Epworth League colors were flying in all di- 
 rections. Every street gleamed with the white 
 and red banners of the North, crossed with the 
 white and gold of the South. 
 
 "Chattanooga is entertaining her guests 
 royally; people of every denomination, and of 
 no faith at all, are vying with each other to 
 show the kindliest hospitality. We are missing
 
 78 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 it by being at the hotel. I told Mrs. Herrick 
 and the girls I would meet them at the tent this 
 evening. Will you come, too?" 
 
 "No, thank you," replied David, "my curi- 
 osity was satisfied this morning. I '11 go on 
 up to the inn. I have a letter to write." 
 
 The major laughed. 
 
 "It 's a letter that has to be written every 
 day, isn't it?" he said, banteringly. "Well, 
 I can sympathize with you, my boy. I was 
 young myself once. Conferences are n't to be 
 taken into account at all when a billet-doux 
 needs answering." 
 
 The next day David kept Marta with him 
 as much as possible. He could see that she 
 was becoming greatly interested, and catching 
 much of Albert Herrick's enthusiasm. The boy 
 was a great League worker, and attended every 
 meeting. 
 
 David took Marta a long walk over the 
 mountain paths. They sat on the wide, vine- 
 hung veranda of the inn, and read together. 
 Then, as it was their Sabbath, he took her up 
 to his room, and read some of the ritual of the 
 day, trying to arouse in her some interest for 
 the old customs of their childhood.
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 79 
 
 To his great dismay, he found that she had 
 drifted away from him. She was not the yield- 
 ing child she had been, whom he had been able 
 to influence with a word. 
 
 She showed a disposition to question and 
 contend, that annoyed him. The rabbi was 
 right. She had been left too long among con- 
 taminating influences. 
 
 It.was with a feeling of relief that he woke 
 Sunday morning to hear the rain beating vio- 
 lently against the windows. He was glad on 
 her account that the storm would prevent them 
 going down into the city. But toward evening 
 the sun came out, and Frances Herrick began 
 to insist on going down to the night service 
 in the tent. 
 
 "It is the last one there will be!" she ex- 
 claimed. "I would n't miss it for anything." 
 
 "Neither would I," responded Marta. 
 "There is something so inspiring in all that great 
 chorus of voices." 
 
 When David found that his sister really in- 
 tended to go, notwithstanding his remonstrances, 
 and that the family were waiting for her in 
 the hall below, he made no further protest,
 
 80 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 but surprised her by taking his hat, and tuck- 
 ing her hand in his arm. 
 
 "Then I will go with you, little sister," he 
 said. "I want to have as much of your com- 
 pany as possible during my short visit." 
 
 Albert Herrick, who was waiting for her 
 at the foot of the stairs, divined David's pur- 
 pose in keeping his sister so close. He lifted 
 his eyebrows slightly as he turned to take his 
 mother's wraps, leaving Frances to follow with 
 the major. 
 
 The tent was crowded when they reached 
 it. They succeeded with great difficulty in ob- 
 taining several chairs in one of the aisles. 
 
 "Herschel and I will go back to the side," 
 said Albert. "The audience near the entrance 
 is constantly shifting, and we can slip into the 
 first vacant seat; some will be sure to get 
 tired and go out before long. They always do." 
 
 It was the first time David had been in 
 the tent, and he was amazed at the enormous 
 audience. He leaned against one of the side 
 supports, watching the people, still intent on 
 crowding forward. Suddenly his look of idle 
 curiosity changed to one of lively interest. He 
 recognized the face of the Jew who had at-
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 81 
 
 tracted him in the mountain meeting. Isaac 
 Lessing was in the stream of people pressing 
 slowly towards him. 
 
 Nearer and nearer he came. The crowd 
 at the door pushed harder. The fresh impetus 
 jostled them almost off their feet, and in the 
 crush Lessing was caught and held directly in 
 front of David. Some magnetic force in the 
 eyes of each held the gaze of the other for 
 a moment. Then Lessing, recognizing the com- 
 mon bond of blood, smiled. 
 
 That ringing cry, "I am a converted Jew," 
 had sounded in David's ears ever since it first 
 startled him. He felt confident that the man 
 was laboring under some strong delusion, and 
 he wished that he might have an opportunity 
 to dispel it by skillful arguments, and win him 
 back to the old faith. 
 
 Seized by an impulse as sudden as it was 
 irresistible, he laid his hand on the stranger's 
 arm. 
 
 "I want to speak with you," he said, hur- 
 riedly, and in a low tone. "Come this way. 
 I will not detain you long." 
 
 He drew him out of the press into one of 
 
 the side aisles, and thence towards the exit. 
 6
 
 82 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Will you walk a few steps witli me?" lie 
 asked; "I want to ask you several questions." 
 
 Lessing complied quietly. 
 
 The sound of a cornet followed them with 
 the pleading notes of an old hymn. It was 
 like the mighty voice of some archangel sound-, 
 ing a call to prayer. Then the singing began. 
 Song after song rolled out on the night air 
 across the common to a street where two men 
 paced back and fortli in the darkness. They 
 were arm in arm. David was listening to the 
 same story that Bethany and Frank Marion 
 had heard the day before. He could not help 
 but be stirred by it. Lessing's voice was so 
 earnest, his faith was so sure. When he was 
 through, David was utterly silenced. The ques- 
 tions with which he had intended to probe this 
 man's claims were already answered. 
 
 "We might as well go back," he said at last. 
 As they walked slowly towards the tent, he said: 
 "I can't understand you. I feel all the time 
 that you have been duped in some way; that 
 you are under the spell of some mysterious power 
 that deludes you." 
 
 Just as they passed within the tent, the
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 83 
 
 cornet sounded again, the great congregation 
 rose, and ten thousand voices went up as one: 
 " All hail the power of Jesus' name, 
 Let angels prostrate fall !" 
 
 The sight was a magnificent one; the sound 
 like an ocean-beat of praise. Lessing seized 
 David's arm. 
 
 "That is the power!" he exclaimed. "Not 
 only does it uplift all these thousands you see 
 here, but millions more, all over this globe. It is 
 nearly two thousand years since this Jesus was 
 known among men. Could he transform lives 
 to-night, as mine has been transformed, if his 
 power were a delusion? What has brought 
 them all these miles, if not this same power? 
 Look at the class of people who have been 
 duped, as you call it." He pointed to the plat- 
 form. "Bishops, college presidents, editors, 
 men of marked ability and with world-wide rep- 
 utation for worth and scholarship." 
 
 At the close of the hymn some one moved 
 over, and made room for David on one of the 
 benches. Lessing pushed farther to the front. 
 David listened to all that was said with 
 a sort of pitying tolerance, until the sermon
 
 84 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 began. The bishop's opening words caught his 
 attention, and echoed in his memory for months 
 afterward. 
 
 "Paul knew Christ as he had studied him, 
 and as he appeared to him when he did not 
 believe in him when he despised him. Then 
 he also knew Christ after his surrender to him; 
 after Christ had entered into his life, and 
 changed the character of his being; after new 
 meanings of life and destiny filled his horizon, 
 after the Divine tenderness filled to complete- 
 ness his nature; then was he in possession of 
 a knowledge of Christ, of an experience of his 
 presence and of his love that was a benediction 
 to him, and has through the centuries since 
 that hour been a blessing to men wherever the 
 gospel has been preached. 
 
 "It is such a man speaking in this text. A 
 man with a singularly strong mind, well disci- 
 plined, with great will-power; a man with a 
 great ancestry; a man with as mighty a soul as 
 ever tabernacled in flesh and blood. He pro- 
 claimed everywhere that, if need be, he was 
 ready to die for the principles out of which had 
 come to him a new life, and which had brought 
 to his heart experiences so rich and so over-
 
 AN EPWORTH JEW. 85 
 
 whelming in happiness, that he was led to do 
 and undertake what he knew would lead at the 
 last to a martyr's death and crown. Why? 
 Hear him: Tor the love of Christ constrain- 
 eth us.' " 
 
 There was a testimony service following the 
 sermon. As David watched the hundreds ris- 
 ing to declare their faith, he wondered why they 
 should thus voluntarily come forward as wit- 
 nesses. Then the text seemed to repeat itself 
 in answer, "For the love of Christ constrain- 
 eth us!" 
 
 He dreamed of Lessing and Paul all night. 
 He was glad when the conference was at an 
 end; when the decorations were taken down 
 from the streets, and the last car-load of irre- 
 pressible enthusiasts went singing out of the 
 city. 
 
 Albert Herrick went to the seashore that 
 week. David proposed taking Marta home with 
 him; but her objections were so heartily re- 
 enforced by the whole family that he quietly 
 dropped the subject, and went back to Kabbi 
 Barthold alone.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 " TRUST." 
 
 " Alas ! we can not draw habitual breath in the 
 thin air of life's supremer heights. We can not make 
 each meal a sacrament." Lowell. 
 
 T had seemed to Bethany, in the 
 experience of that sunrise on Look- 
 out Mountain, she could never feel 
 despondent again; but away from 
 the uplifting influences of the place, back 
 among the painful memories of the old home, 
 she fought as hard a fight with her returning 
 doubts as ever Christian did in his Valley of 
 Humiliation. 
 
 For a week since her return the weather 
 had been intensely warm. It made Jack irri- 
 table, and sapped her own strength. 
 
 There came a day when everything went 
 wrong. She had practiced her shorthand exer- 
 cises all morning, until her head ached almost be- 
 yond endurance. The grocer presented a bill 
 
 much larger than she had expected. While he 
 86
 
 TRUST. 87 
 
 was receipting it, a boy came to collect for the 
 gas, and there were only two dimes left in her 
 purse. Then Jack upset a little cut-glass vase 
 that was standing on the table beside him. It 
 was broken beyond repair, and the water ruined 
 the handsome binding of a borrowed book that 
 would have to be replaced. 
 
 About noon Dr. Trent called to see Jack. 
 He had brought a new kind of brace that he 
 wanted tried. 
 
 "It will help him amazingly," he said, "but 
 it is very expensive." 
 
 Bethany's heart sank. She thought of the 
 pipes that had sprung a leak that morning, of 
 the broken pump, and the empty flour-barrel. 
 She could not see where all the money they 
 needed was to come from. 
 
 "It 's too small," said the doctor, after a 
 careful trial of the brace. "The size larger 
 will be just the thing. I will bring it in the 
 morning." 
 
 He wiped his forehead wearily as he stopped 
 on the threshold. 
 
 "A storm must be brewing," he remarked. 
 "It is so oppressively sultry." 
 
 It was not many hours before his predic-
 
 88 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 tion was verified by a sudden windstorm that 
 came up with terrific force. The trees in the 
 avenue were lashed violently back and forth 
 until they almost swept the earth. Huge limbs 
 were twisted completely off, and many were 
 left broken and hanging. It was followed by 
 hail and a sudden change of temperature, that 
 suggested winter. The roses were all beaten off 
 the bushes, their pink petals scattered over the 
 soaked grass. The porch was covered with 
 broken twigs and wet leaves. 
 
 As night dropped down, the trees bordering 
 the avenue waved their green, dripping boughs 
 shiveringly towards the house. 
 
 "How can it be so cold and dreary in July?" 
 inquired Jack. "Let 's have a fire in the library 
 and eat supper there to-night." 
 
 Bethany shivered. It had been the judge's 
 favorite room in the \Vinter, on account of its 
 large fireplace, with its queer, old-fashioned 
 tiling. She rarely went in there except to dust 
 the books or throw herself in the big arm-chair 
 to cry over the perplexities that he had always 
 shielded her from so carefully. But Jack in- 
 sisted, and presently the flames went leaping up 
 the throat of the wide chimney, filling the room
 
 TRUST. 89 
 
 with comfort and the cheer of genial com- 
 panionship. 
 
 "Look!" cried Jack, pointing through the 
 window to the bright reflection of the fire in 
 the garden outside. "Do n't you remember 
 what you read me in 'Snowbound?' 
 
 1 Under the tree, 
 
 When fire outdoors burns merrily, 
 There the witches are making tea.' 
 
 This would be a fine night for witch stories. 
 The wind makes such queer noises in the chim- 
 ney. Let 's tell 'em after supper, all the awful 
 ones we can think of, 'specially the Salem ones." 
 As usual, Jack's wishes prevailed. After- 
 ward, when Bethany had tucked him snugly in 
 bed, and was sitting alone by the fire, listening 
 to the queer noises in the chimney, she wished 
 they had not dwelt so long on such a grewsome 
 subject. She leaned back in her father's great 
 arm-chair, with her little slippered feet on the 
 brass fender, and her soft hair pressed against 
 the velvet cushions. Her white hands were 
 clasped loosely in her lap; small, helpless look- 
 ing hands, little fitted to cope with the burdens 
 and responsibilities laid upon her.
 
 90 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL 
 
 The judge had never even permitted her 
 to open a door for herself when he had been 
 near enough to do it for her. But his love 
 had made him short-sighted. In shielding her 
 so carefully, he did not see that he was only 
 making her more keenly sensitive to later 
 troubles. that must come when he was no longer 
 with her. Every one was surprised at the course 
 she determined upon. 
 
 "I supposed, of course," said Mrs. Marion, 
 "that you would try to teach drawing or water- 
 colors, or something. You have spent so much 
 time on your art studies, and so thoroughly en- 
 joy that kind of work. Then those little dinner- 
 cards, and german favors you do, are so beau- 
 tiful. I am sure you have any number of 
 friends who would be glad to give you orders." 
 
 "]STo, Cousin Ray," answered Bethany de- 
 cidedly; "I must have something that briiigs 
 in a settled income, something that can be de- 
 pended on. While I have painted some very 
 acceptable things, I never was cut out for a 
 teacher. I 'd rather not attempt anything in 
 which I can never be more than third-rate. 
 I 've decided to study stenography. I am sure 
 I can master that, and command a first-class
 
 TRUST. 91 
 
 position. I have heard papa complain a great 
 many times of the difficulty in obtaining a really 
 good stenographer. Of the hundreds who at- 
 tempt the work, such a small per cent are really 
 proficient enough to undertake court reporting." 
 
 "You 're just like your father," said Mrs. 
 Marion. "Uncle Richard would never be any- 
 thing if he could n't be uppermost." 
 
 It had been nearly a year since that conver- 
 sation. Bethany had persevered in her under- 
 taking until she felt confident that she had ac- 
 complished her purpose. She was ready for 
 any position that offered, but there seemed to 
 be no vacancies anywhere. The little sum in 
 the bank was dwindling away with frightful 
 rapidity. She was afraid to encroach on it any 
 furthej, but the bills had to be met constantly. 
 
 Presently she drew her chair over to the 
 library table, and spread out her check-book 
 and memoranda under the student-lamp, to look 
 over the accounts for the month just ended. 
 Then she made a list of the probable expenses 
 of the next two months. The contrast between 
 their needs and their means was appalling. 
 
 "It w 7 ill take every cent!" she exclaimed, 
 in a distressed whisper. "When the first of Sep-
 
 92 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 tember comes, there will be nothing left but to 
 sell the old home and go away somewhere to a 
 strange place." 
 
 The prospect of leaving the dear old place, 
 that had grown to seem almost like a human 
 friend, was the last drop that made the day's 
 cup of misery overflow. The old doubt came 
 back. 
 
 "I wonder if God really cares for us in a 
 temporal way?" she asked herself. 
 
 The frightful tales of witchcraft that Jack 
 had been so interested in, recurred to her. Many 
 of the people who had been so fearfully tor- 
 tured and persecuted as witches were Chris- 
 tians. God had not interfered in their behalf, 
 she told herself. Why should he trouble him- 
 self about her? 
 
 She went back to her seat by the fender, 
 and, with her chin resting in her hand, looked 
 drearily into the embers, as if they could an- 
 swer the question. She heard some one come 
 up on the porch and ring the bell. It was Dr. 
 Trent's quick, imperative summons. 
 
 "Jack in bed?" he asked, in his brisk way, 
 as she ushered him into the library. "Well, it 
 makes no difference; you know how to adjust
 
 TRUST. 93 
 
 the brace anyway. He will be able to sit up all 
 day with that on." 
 
 He gave an appreciative glance around the 
 cheerful room, and spread his hands out towards 
 the fire. 
 
 "Ah, that looks comfortable!" he exclaimed, 
 rubbing them together. "I wish I could stay 
 and enjoy it with you. I have just come in 
 from a long drive, and must answer another call 
 away out in the country. You 'd be surprised 
 to find how damp and chilly it is out to-night." 
 
 "I venture you never stopped at the 
 boarding-house at all," answered Bethany, "and 
 that you have not had a mouthful to eat since 
 noon. I am going to get you something. Yes, 
 I shall," she insisted, in spite of his protesta- 
 tions. Luckily, Jack wanted the kettle hung 
 on the crane to-night, so that he could hear it 
 sing as he used to. "The water is boiling, and 
 you shall have a cup of chocolate in no time." 
 
 Before he could answer, she was out of the 
 room, and beyond the reach of his remonstrance. 
 He sank into a big chair, and laying his gray 
 head back on the cushions, wearily closed his 
 eyes. He was almost asleep when Bethany came 
 back.
 
 94 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "The fire made me drowsy," lie said, apol- 
 ogetically. "I was quite exhausted by the in- 
 tense heat of this morning. These sudden 
 changes of temperature are bad for one." 
 
 "Why, my child!" he exclaimed, seeing the 
 heavy tray she carried, "you have brought me 
 a regular feast. You ought not to have put 
 yourself to such trouble for an old codger 
 used to boarding-house fare." 
 
 "All the more reason why you should have 
 a change once in a while," said Bethany, gayly, 
 as she filled the dainty chocolate-pot. 
 
 The sight of the doctor's face as she entered 
 the room had almost brought the tears. It 
 looked so worn and haggard. She had not no- 
 ticed before how white his hair was growing, 
 or how deeply his face was lined. 
 
 He had been such an intimate friend of her 
 father's that she had grown up with the feeling 
 that some strong link of kinship certainly ex- 
 isted between them. She had called him "Uncle 
 Doctor" until she was nearly grown. He had 
 been so thoughtful and kind during all her 
 troubles, and especially in Jack's illness, that 
 she longed to show her appreciation by some of
 
 TRUST. 95 
 
 the tender little ministrations of which his life 
 was so sadly 'bare. 
 
 "This is what I call solid comfort," he re- 
 marked, as he stretched his feet towards the 
 fire and leisurely sipped his chocolate. "I 
 did n't realize I was so tired until I sat down, 
 or so hungry until I began to eat." Then he 
 added, wistfully, "Or how I miss my own fire- 
 side until I feel the cheer of others'." 
 
 The doubts that had been making Bethany 
 miserable all evening, and that she had forgotten 
 in her efforts to serve her old friend, came back 
 with renewed force. 
 
 "Does God really care?" she asked herself 
 again. Here was this man, one of the best she 
 had ever known, left to stumble along under the 
 weight of a living sorrow, the things he cared for 
 most, denied him. 
 
 "Baxter Trent is one of the world's heroes," 
 she had heard her father say. 
 
 There were two things he held dearer than 
 life the honor of the old family name that had 
 come down to him unspotted through genera- 
 tions, and his little home-loving wife. For fif- 
 teen years he had experienced as much of the
 
 96 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 happiness of home-life as a physician with a 
 large practice can know. Then word came to 
 him from another city that his only brother 
 had killed a man in a drunken brawl, and then 
 taken his own life, leaving nothing but the 
 memory of a wild career and a heavy debt. He 
 had borrowed a large amount from an unsus- 
 pecting old aunt, and left her almost penniless. 
 
 When Dr. Trent recovered from the first 
 shock of the discovery, he quietly set to work to 
 wipe out the disgraceful record as far as lay in 
 his power, by assuming the debt. He could 
 eradicate at least that much of the stain on the 
 family name. It had taken years to do it. Beth- 
 any was not sure that it was yet accomplished, 
 for another trial, worse than the first, had come 
 to weaken his strength and dispel his courage. 
 
 The idolized little wife became affected by 
 some nervous malady that resulted in hopeless 
 insanity. 
 
 Bethany had a dim recollection of the doc- 
 tor's daughter, a little brown-eyed child of her 
 own age. She could remember playing hide-and- 
 seek with her one day in an old peony-garden. 
 But she had died years ago. There was only one 
 other child Lee. He had grown to be a big
 
 TRUST. 97 
 
 boy of ten now, but he was too young to feel 
 his mother's loss at the time she was taken away. 
 Bethany knew that she was still living in- a pri- 
 vate asylum near town, and that the doctor 
 saw her every day, no matter how violent she 
 was. Lee was the one bright spot left in his 
 life. Busy night and day with his patients, he 
 saw very little of the boy. The child had never 
 known any home but a boarding-house, and was 
 as lawless and unrestrained as some little wild 
 animal. But the doctor saw no fault in him. 
 He praised the reports brought home from school 
 of high per cents in his studies, knowing 
 nothing of his open defiance to authority. He 
 kissed the innocent-looking face on the pillow 
 next his own when he came in late at night, 
 never dreaming of the forbidden places it had 
 been during the day. 
 
 Everybody said, "Poor Baxter Trent! It 's 
 a pity that Lee is such a little terror;" but no 
 one warned him. Perhaps he would not have 
 believed them if they had. The thought of 
 all this moved Bethany to sudden speech. 
 
 "Uncle Doctor," she broke out impetu- 
 ously she had unconsciously used the old 
 name as she sat down on a low stool near his 
 7
 
 98 Ix LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 knee, *"I was piling up my troubles to-night 
 before yon came. Xot tbe old ones. 7 ' she added, 
 quickly, as she saw an expression of sympathy 
 cross his face, "bin the new ones that confront 
 inc." 
 
 She gave a mournful little smile. 
 
 " "Coming events cast their shadow before,' 
 you know, and these Amdami look so dark and 
 threatening. I see no possible way but to sell 
 this home. Yon have had so much to bear your- 
 self that it seems mean to worry you with my 
 troubles; but I do n't know what to do, and I 
 do n't know what *s the matter with me " 
 
 She stopped abruptly, and choked back a 
 sob. He laid his hand softly on her shining 
 hair. 
 
 "Tell me all about it. child,*' he said, in a 
 soothing tone. Then he added, lightly, "I can't 
 make a diagnosis of the case until I know all 
 the symptoms." 
 
 When he had heard her little outburst of 
 worry and distrust, he said, slowly: 
 
 "You have done all in your power to prepare 
 yourself for a position as stenographer. You 
 have done all yon could to secure such a posi- 
 tion, and have been unsuccessful. But you still
 
 TRUST. M 
 
 have a roof over jour bead, yam still lave enough 
 on hands to keep JOB two months lomyn with- 
 out f^jfag the boose or even renting it am ar- 
 rangement that has not seemed to occur to you." 
 He gMVd down into her disconsolate ace. "It 
 strikes me that a certain little lass I know has 
 been praying, ''Give us this day omr III omnmm% 
 bread.' O Bethany, child, cam jam never learn 
 to trust!" 
 
 "But isn't it right lor me to be anxious 
 about providing some way to keep the house f 
 she cried. ""Isn't it right to plan and pray 
 for the future! You can 't reoEae kov it would 
 hurt me to give up this place." 
 
 ^thinklcan^^heanswcrad.ajentlT. "You 
 forget I have been called am to make just such 
 a sacrifice. Ton can do it, toft, if it is what the 
 All-wise Father sees is best for jou. Folks may 
 not think me orach of aCmtioliom.- They rawlv 
 see me in Church my profession does not al- 
 low it. I am mot demonstrative. It is hard for 
 me to speak of these amul things, unless it is 
 when I see seme poor soul about to sfip into 
 eternity; but I thank the good Father I know 
 how to trust. 5To matter how he has hurt me, 
 I have been able to hang on to his promises,
 
 100 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 and say, 'All right, Lord. The case is entirely 
 in your hands. Amputate, if it is necessary; 
 cut to the very heart, if you will. You know 
 what is best.' ' 
 
 He pushed the long tray of dishes farther 
 on the .table, and, rising suddenly, walked over 
 to the book-shelves nearest the chimney. After 
 several moments' close scrutiny, he took out a 
 well-worn book. 
 
 "Ah, I thought it was here," he remarked. 
 "I want to read you a passage that caught my 
 eyes in here once. I remember showing it to 
 your father." 
 
 He turned the pages rapidly till he found the 
 place. Then seating himself by the lamp 
 again, he began to read: 
 
 "It came to my mind a week or two ago, 
 so full an' sweet an' precious that I can hardly 
 think of anything else. It was during them 
 cold, northeast winds; these winds had made my 
 cough very bad, an' I was shook all to bits, and 
 felt very ill. My wife was sitting by my side, 
 an' once, when I had a sharp fit of it, she put 
 down her work, an' looked at me till her eyes 
 filled with tears, an' she says, Trankie, Frankie, 
 whatever will become of us when you be gone?'
 
 TRUST. 101 
 
 She was making a warm little petticoat for the 
 little rnaid; so, after a minute or two, I took hold 
 of it, an' says, 'What are 'ee making, my dear?' 
 She held it up without a word; her heart was 
 too full to speak. Tor the little maid?' I says. 
 'An' a nice, warm thing, too. How comfortable 
 it will keep her! Does she know about it yet?' 
 
 " 'Know about it? Why, of course not,' said 
 the wife, wondering. 'What should she know 
 about it for?' 
 
 "I waited another minute, an' then I said: 
 'What a wonderful mother you must be, wifie, 
 to think about the little maid like that!' 
 
 " 'Wonderful, Frankie? Why, it would be 
 more like wonderful if I forgot that the cold 
 weather was a-coming, and that the little maid 
 would be a-wanting something warm.' 
 
 "So, then, you see, I had got her, my friends, 
 and Frankie smiled. 'O wife, says I, 'do you 
 think that you be going to take care o' the little 
 maid like that an' your Father in heaven be 
 a-going to forget you altogether? Come now 
 (bless him!), isn't he as much to be trusted as 
 you are! An' do you think that he 'd see the 
 winter coming up sharp and cold, an' not have 
 something waiting for you, an' just what you
 
 102 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 want, too? An' I know, dear wine, that you 
 would n't like to hear the little maid go a-fret- 
 ting, and saying: "There the cold winter be 
 a-coming, an' whatever shall I do if my mother 
 should forget me?" Why, you 'd be hurt an' 
 grieved that she should doubt you like that. 
 She knows that you care for her, an' what more 
 does she need to know? That 's enough to keep 
 her from fretting about anything. "Your heav- 
 enly Father know.eth that you have need of all 
 these things." That be put down in his book 
 for you, wine, and on purpose for you; an' you 
 grieve an' hurt him when you go to fretting 
 about the future, an' doubting his love.' ' 
 
 Dr. Trent closed the book, and looked into 
 his listener's thoughtful eyes. 
 
 "There, Bethany," he said, "is the lesson 
 I have learned. Nothing is withheld that we 
 really need. Sometimes I have thought that 
 I was tried beyond my power of endurance, but 
 when His hand has fallen the heaviest, His in- 
 finite fatherliness has seemed most near; and 
 often, when I least expected it, some great bless- 
 ing has surprised me. I have learned, after a 
 long time, that when we put ourselves unre-
 
 TRUST. 103 
 
 servedly in His hands, lie is far kinder to us 
 than we would be to ourselves. 
 
 1 Always hath the daylight broken, 
 Always hath he comfort spoken, 
 Better hath he been for years 
 Thau my fears.' 
 
 I can say from the bottom of my heart, Beth- 
 any, Though he slay me, yet will I trust him." 
 
 The tears had gathered in Bethany's eyes 
 as she listened. Xow she hastily brushed them 
 aside. The face that she turned toward her old 
 friend reminded him of a snowdrop that had 
 caught a gleam of sunshine in the midst of an 
 April shower. 
 
 "You have brushed away my last doubt and 
 foreboding, Uncle Doctor!" she exclaimed. 
 "Really, I have been entertaining an angel un- 
 awares." 
 
 The old clock in the hall sounded the half- 
 hour chime, and he rose to go. 
 
 "You have beguiled me into staying much 
 longer than I intended," he answered. "What 
 will my poor patients in the country think of 
 such a long delay?" 
 
 "Tell them you have been opening blind
 
 104 IN L/KAGUE WITH ISRAEI*. 
 
 eyes," she said, gravely. "Indeed, Uncle Doc- 
 tor, the knowledge that, despite all you have 
 suffered, you can still trust so implicitly, 
 strengthens my faith more than you can im- 
 agine." 
 
 At the hall door he turned and took both her 
 hands in his: 
 
 "There is another thing to remember," he 
 said. "You are only called on to live one day at 
 a time. One can endure almost any ache until 
 sundown, or bear up under almost any load if 
 the goal is in sight. Travel only to the mile- 
 post you can see, my little maid. Do n't worry 
 about the ones that mark the to-morrows."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TWO TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S LANE. 
 
 " Sunshine and hope are comrades." 
 
 HE early morning light streaming 
 into Bethany's room, aroused her to 
 a vague consciousness of having been 
 in a storm the night before. Then 
 she remembered the garden roses beaten to earth 
 by the hail, and the flood of doubt and perplex- 
 ity that had swept through her heart with such 
 overwhelming force. The same old problems 
 confronted her; but they did not assume such 
 gigantic proportions in the light of this new 
 day, with its infinite possibilities. 
 
 All the time she was dressing she heard 
 Jack singing lustily in the next room. He was 
 impatient to try the new brace, and paused be- 
 tween solos to exhort her to greater haste. She 
 knelt just an instant by the low window-seat. 
 The prayer she made was one of the shortest 
 she had ever uttered, and one of the most heart- 
 
 105
 
 106 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 felt: "Give me this day my daily bread." That 
 was all; yet it included everything strength, 
 courage, temporal help, disappointments or bless- 
 ings anything the dear Father saw she needed 
 in her spiritual growth. When she arose from 
 her knees, it was with a feeling of perfect se- 
 curity and peace. Xo matter what the day might 
 bring forth, she would take it trustingly, and be 
 thankful. 
 
 About an hour after breakfast she wheeled 
 Jack to a front window. It was growing very 
 warm again. 
 
 "It does n't hurt me at all to sit up with this 
 brace on," he said. "If you like, I '11 help you 
 practice, while I watch people go by on the 
 street." He had often helped her gain steno- 
 graphic speed by dictating rapid sentences. He 
 read too slowly to be of any service that way, 
 but he knew yards of nursery rhymes that he 
 could repeat with amazing rapidity. 
 
 "I know there is n't a lawyer living that can 
 make a speech as fast as I can say the piece 
 about 'Who killed Cock Robin,' " he remarked 
 when he first proposed such dictation; "and I 
 can say the 'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled 
 peppers' verse fast enough to make you dizzy."
 
 Two TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S LANE. 107 
 
 Bethany's pencil was flying as rapidly as 
 the boy's tongue, when they heard a cheery 
 voice in the hall. 
 
 "It's Cousin Ray!" cried Jack. "I have 
 felt all morning that something nice was going 
 to happen, and now it has." Then he called 
 out in a tragic tone, " 'By the pricking of my 
 thumbs, something wicked this way comes.' ' 
 
 "You saucy boy!" laughed Mrs. Marion, as 
 she appeared in the doorway. "I think he is de- 
 cidedly better, Bethany; you need not worry 
 about him any longer." 
 
 She stooped to kiss his forehead, and drop a 
 great yellow pear in his lap. 
 
 "No; I have n't time to stay," she said, when 
 Bethany insisted on taking her hat. "I am to 
 entertain the Missionary Society this afternoon, 
 and Dr. Bascom has given me an unusually 
 long list of the 'sick and in prison' kind to look 
 after this month. It gives me an 'all out of 
 breath' sensation every time I think of all that 
 ought to be attended to." 
 
 She dropped into a chair near a window, 
 and picked up a fan. 
 
 "You never could guess my errand," she 
 began, hesitatingly.
 
 108 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I know it is something nice," said Jack, 
 "from the way your eyes shine." 
 
 "I think it is fine," she answered; "but I 
 do n't know how it will impress Bethany." 
 
 She plunged into the subject abruptly. 
 
 "The Courtney sisters want to come here 
 to live." 
 
 "The Courtney sisters!" echoed Bethany, 
 blankly. "To live! In our house? O Cousin 
 Ray! I have realized for some time that we 
 might have to give up the dear old place; but I 
 did hope that it need not be to strangers." 
 
 "Why, they are not strangers, Bethany. 
 They went to school with your mother for years 
 and years. You have heard of Harry and 
 Carrie Morse, I am sure." 
 
 "O yes," answered Bethany, quickly. 
 "They were the twins who used to do such out- 
 landish things at Forest Seminary. I remem- 
 ber, mamma used to speak of them very often. 
 But I thought you said it was the Courtney 
 sisters who wanted the house." 
 
 "I did. They married brothers, Joe and 
 Ralph Courtney, who were both killed in the 
 late war. They have been widows for over
 
 Two TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S LANE. 109 
 
 thirty years, you see. They are just the 
 dearest old souls! They have been away so 
 many, many years, of course you can't remem- 
 ber them. I did not know they were in the city 
 until last night. But just as soon as I heard 
 that they had come to stay, and wanted to go 
 to housekeeping, I thought of you immediately. 
 I could n't wait for the storm to stop. I went 
 over to see them in all that rain." 
 
 "Well," prompted Bethany, breathlessly, 
 as Mrs. Marion paused. 
 
 She gave a quick glance around the room. 
 She felt sick and faint, now that the prospect 
 of leaving stared her in the face. Yet she 
 felt that, since it had been unsolicited, 
 there must be something providential in the 
 sending of such an opportunity. 
 
 "O, they will be only too glad to come," 
 resumed Mrs. Marion, "if you are willing. They 
 remembered the arrangement of the house per- 
 fectly, and we planned it all out beautifully. 
 Since Jack's accident you sleep down-stairs any- 
 how. You could keep the library and the two 
 smaller rooms back of it, and may be a couple 
 of rooms up-stairs. They would take the rest
 
 110 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 of the house, and board you and Jack for the 
 rent. Your bread and butter would be assured 
 in that way. They are model housekeepers, 
 and such a comfortable sort of bodies to have 
 around, that I could n't possibly think of a nicer 
 arrangement. Then you could devote your time 
 and strength to something more profitable than 
 taking care of this big house." 
 
 "O, Cousin Ray!" was all the happy girl 
 could gasp. Her voice faltered from sheer glad- 
 ness. "You can't imagine what a load you have 
 lifted from me. I love every inch of this place, 
 every stone in its old gray walls. I could n't 
 bear to think of giving it up. And, just to 
 think! last night, at the very time I was most 
 despondent, the problem was being solved. I 
 can never thank you enough." 
 
 "The idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Marion, as she 
 rose to go. "No thanks are due me, child. And 
 Miss Caroline and Miss Harriet, as everybody 
 still calls them, are just as anxious for such an 
 arrangement as you can possibly be. They '11 
 be over to see you to-morrow, for they are quite 
 anxious to get settled. They have roamed about 
 the world so long they begin to feel that 'there 's 
 no place like home.' Jack, they 've been in
 
 Two TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S LANE. Ill 
 
 China and Africa and the South Sea Islands. 
 Think of the charming tales in store for you!" 
 
 "Goodness, Bethany!" exclaimed Jack, when 
 she came back into the room after walking to 
 the gate with Mrs. Marion. ''Your face shines 
 as if there was a light inside of you." 
 
 "O, there is, Jackie boy," she answered, 
 giving him an ecstatic hug. "I am so very 
 happy! It seems too good to be true." 
 
 "Cousin Ray is awful good to us," remarked 
 the boy, thoughtfully. "Seems to me she is 
 always busy doing something for somebody. 
 She never has a minute for herself. I remem- 
 ber, when I used to go up there, people kept 
 coming all day long, and every one of them 
 wanted something. Why do you suppose they 
 all went to her? Did she tell them they might?" 
 
 "Jack, do you remember the plant you had 
 in your window last winter?" she replied. "No 
 matter how many times I turned the jar that 
 held it, the flower always turned around again 
 towards the sun. People are the same way, dear. 
 They unconsciously spread out their leaves 
 towards those who have help and comfort to 
 give. They feel they are welcome, with- 
 out asking."
 
 112 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "She makes me think of that verse in 
 'Mother Goose,' " said Jack. " 'Sugar and spice 
 and everything nice.' Does n't she you, sister?" 
 
 "No," said Bethany, with an amused smile. 
 "Lowell has described her: 
 
 ' So circled lives she with love's holy light, 
 
 That from the shade of self she walketh free.' " 
 
 " I do n't 'zactly understand," said Jack, 
 with a puzzled expression. 
 
 She explained it, and he repeated it over and 
 over, until he had it firmly fixed in his mind. 
 
 Then they went back to the dictation exer- 
 cises. It was almost dark when they had an- 
 other caller. Mr. Marion stopped at the door 
 on his way home to dinner. 
 
 "I have good news for you, Bethany," he 
 said, with his face aglow with eager sympathy. 
 "Did Ray tell you?" 
 
 "About the house?" she said. "Yes. I've 
 been on a mountain-top all day because of it." 
 
 "O, I don't mean that!" he exclaimed, 
 hastily. "It 's better than that. I mean about 
 Porter & Edmunds." 
 
 "I do n't see how anything could be better 
 than the news she brought," said Bethany. 
 
 "Well, it is. Mr. Porter asked me to see
 
 Two TURNINGS IN BETHANY'S L,ANE. 113 
 
 their new law-office to-day. They have just 
 moved into the Clifton Block. They have an 
 elegant place. As I looked around, making 
 mental notes of all the fine furnishings, I 
 thought of you, and wished you had such a po- 
 sition. I asked him if he needed a stenographer. 
 It was a random shot, for I had no idea they 
 did. The young man they have has been there 
 so long, I considered him a fixture. To my 
 surprise he told me the fellow is going into bus- 
 iness for himself, and the place will be open 
 next week. I told him I could fill it for him 
 to his supreme satisfaction. He promised to 
 give you the refusal of it until to-morrow noon. 
 I leave to-night on a business-trip, or I would 
 take you over and introduce you." 
 
 "O, thank you, Cousin Frank!" she ex- 
 claime.d. "I know Mr. Edmunds very well. He 
 was a warm friend of papa's." 
 
 Then she added, impulsively: 
 
 "Yesterday I thought I had come to such a 
 dark place that I could n't see my hand before 
 my face. I was just so blue and discouraged I 
 was ready to give up, and now the way has 
 grown so plain and easy, all at once, I feel that 
 I must be living in a dream." 
 8
 
 114 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Bless your brave little soul!" he exclaimed, 
 holding out his hand. "Why did n't yo.u conic 
 to me with your troubles? Remember I atn al- 
 ways glad to smooth the way for you, just as 
 much as lies in my power." 
 
 When he had gone, Bethany crept away into 
 the quiet twilight of the library, and, kneeling be- 
 fore the big arm-chair, laid her head in its cush- 
 ioned seat. 
 
 "O Father," she whispered, "I am so 
 ashamed of myself to think I ever doubted thee 
 for one single moment.' Forgive me, please, 
 and help me through every hour of every day 
 to trust unfalteringly in thy great love and 
 goodness."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JUDGE HAU,AM'S DAUGHTER, 
 STENOGRAPHER. 
 
 HERE was so much to be done next 
 morning, setting the rooms all in or- 
 der for the critical inspection of Miss 
 Caroline and Miss Harriet, that Beth- 
 any had little time to think of the dreaded in- 
 terview with Porter & Edmunds. 
 
 She wheeled Jack out into the shady, vine- 
 covered piazza, and brought him a pile of things 
 for him to amuse himself with in her absence. 
 ".Ring your bell for Mena if you need any- 
 thing else," she said. "I will be back before the 
 sun gets around to this side of the Louse, maybe 
 in less than an hour." 
 
 He caught at her dress with a detaining 
 
 grasp, and a troubled look came over his face. 
 
 "O sister! I just thought of it. If you do 
 
 get that place, will I have to stay here all day 
 
 by myself?" 
 
 "O no," she answered. "Mena can wheel 
 
 115
 
 116 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 you around the garden, and wait on you; and 
 I will think of all sorts of things to keep you 
 busy. Then the old ladies will be here, and I 
 am sure they will be kind to you. I '11 be home 
 at noon, and we '11 have lovely long evenings to- 
 gether." 
 
 "But if those people come, Mena will have 
 so much more to do, she '11 never have any time 
 to wheel me. Could n't you* take me with you?" 
 he asked, wistfully. "I would n't be a bit of 
 bother. I 'd take my books and study, or look 
 out of the window all the time, and keep just 
 as quiet! Please ask 'em if I can't come too, 
 sister!" 
 
 It was hard to resist the pleading tone. 
 
 "Maybe they '11 not want me," answered 
 Bethany. "I '11 have to settle that matter be- 
 fore making any promises. But never mind, 
 dear, we '11 arrange it in some way." 
 
 It was a warm July morning. As Bethany 
 Avalked slowly toward the business portion of 
 the town, several groups of girls passed her, 
 evidently on their way to work, from the few 
 words she overheard in passing. Most of them 
 looked tired and languid, as if the daily routine 
 of such a treadmill existence was slowly drain-
 
 JUDGE HALLAM'S DAUGHTER. 117 
 
 ing their vitality. Two or three had a pert, 
 bold air, that their contact with business life 
 had given them. One was chewing gum and re- 
 peating in a loud voice some conversation she 
 had had with her "boss." 
 
 Bethany's heart sank as she suddenly real- 
 ized that she was about to join the great work- 
 ing-class of which this ill-bred girl was a mem- 
 ber. Not that she had any of the false pride 
 that pushes a woman who is an independent 
 wage-winner to a lower social scale than one 
 whom circumstances have happily hedged about 
 with home walls; but she had recalled at that 
 moment some of her acquaintances who would 
 do just such a thing. In their short-sighted, 
 self-assumed superiority, they could make no 
 discrimination between the girl at the cigar- 
 stand, who flirted with her customer, and the 
 girl in the school-room, who taught her pupils 
 more from her inherent refinement and gentle- 
 ness than from their text-books. 
 
 She had remembered that Belle Romney 
 had said to her one day, as they drove past a 
 great factory where the girls were swarming 
 out at noon: "Do you know, Bethany dear, I 
 would rather lie down and die than have to
 
 118 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 work in such a place. You can't imagine what 
 a horror I have of being obliged to work for a 
 living, no matter in what way. I would feel 
 utterly disgraced to come down to such a thing; 
 but I suppose these poor creatures are so accus- 
 tomed to it they never mind it." 
 
 Bethany's eyes blazed. She knew Belle 
 Romney's position was due entirely to the tol- 
 erance of a distant relative. She longed to an- 
 swer vehemently: "Well, I would starve before 
 I would deliberately sit down to be a willing de- 
 pendent on the charity of my friends. It 's 
 only a species of genteel pauperism, and none 
 the less despicable because of the purple and 
 fine linen it flaunts in." 
 
 She had not made the speech, however. 
 Belle leaned back in the carriage, and folded 
 her daintily-gloved hands, as they passed the fac- 
 tory-girls, with an air of complacency that 
 amused Bethany then. It nettled her now to 
 remember it. 
 
 She turned into the street where the Clif- 
 ton Block stood, an imposing building, whose 
 first two floors were occupied by lawyers' offices. 
 Porter & Edmunds were on the second floor. 
 The elevator-boy showed her the room. The
 
 JUDGE HALLAM'S DAUGHTER. 119 
 
 door stood open, exposing an inviting interior, 
 for the walls were lined with books, and the 
 rugs and massive furniture bespoke taste as well 
 as wealth. 
 
 An elderly gentleman, with his heels on the 
 window-sill and 'his back to the door, was vig- 
 orously smoking. He was waiting for a back- 
 woods client, who had an early engagement. 
 His feet came to the floor with sudden force, 
 and his cigar was tossed hastily out of the win- 
 dow when he heard Bethany's voice saying, 
 timidly, 
 
 "May I come in, Mr. Edmunds?" 
 
 He came forward with old-school gallantry. 
 It was not often his office was brightened by 
 such a visitor. 
 
 "Why, it is Miss Hallam!" he exclaimed, 
 in surprise, secretly wondering what had brought 
 her to his office. 
 
 . He had met her often in her father's house, 
 and had seen her the center of many an admir- 
 ing group at parties and receptions. She had 
 always impressed him as having the air of one 
 who had been surrounded by only the most re- 
 fined influences of life. He thought her un- 
 usually charming this morning, all in black,
 
 120 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 with such a timid, almost childish expression 
 in her big, gray eyes. 
 
 "Take this seat by the window, Miss Hal- 
 lam," he said, cordially. "I hope this cigar 
 smoke does not annoy you. I had no idea I 
 should have the honor of entertaining a lady, 
 or I should not have indulged." 
 
 "Did n't Mr. Marion tell you I was coming 
 this morning?" asked Bethany, in some em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 "No, not a word. I believe he said some- 
 thing to Mr. Porter about a typewriter-girl that 
 wants a place, but I am sure he never men- 
 tioned that you intended doing us the honor 
 of calling." 
 
 Bethany smiled faintly. 
 
 "I am the typewriter-girl that wants the 
 place," she answered. 
 
 "You!" ejaculated Mr. Edmunds, standing 
 up in his surprise, and beginning to stutter as 
 he always did when much excited. "You! w'y- 
 w'y-w'y, you do n't say so!" he finally managed 
 to blurt out 
 
 "What is it that is so astonishing?" asked 
 Bethany, beginning to be amused. "Do you 
 think it is presumptuous in me to aspire to such
 
 JUDGE HALLAM'S DAUGHTER. 121 
 
 a position? I assure you I have a very fair 
 speed." 
 
 "No," answered Mr. Edmunds, "it 's not 
 that; but I never any more thought of your 
 going out in the world to make a living than 
 a-a-a pet canary,"* he added, in confusion. 
 
 He seated himself again, and began tapping 
 on the table with a paper-knife. 
 
 "Can't you paint, or give music lessons, or 
 teach French?" he asked, half impatiently. "A 
 girl brought up as you have been has no busi- 
 ness jostling up against the world, especially 
 the part of a world one sees in the court-room." 
 
 Bethany looked at him gravely. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "I can do all those 
 things after a fashion, but none of them well 
 enough to measure up to my standard of pro- 
 ficiency, which is a high one. I do understand 
 stenography, and I am confident I can do thor- 
 ough, first-class work. I think, too, Mr. Ed- 
 munds, that it is a mistaken idea that the girl 
 who has had the most sheltered home-life is 
 the one least fitted to go into such places. Papa 
 used to say we are like the planets; we carry 
 our own atmosphere with us. I am sure one 
 may carry the same personality into a reporter's
 
 122 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 stand that she would into a drawing-room. We 
 need not necessarily change with our surround- 
 ings." 
 
 As she spoke, a slight tinge of pink flushed 
 her cheeks, and she unconsciously raised her 
 chin a trifle haughtily. Mr. Edmunds looked 
 at her admiringly, and then made a gallant bow. 
 
 "I am sure, Miss Hallam would grace any 
 position she might choose to fill," he said 
 courteously. 
 
 "Then you will let me try," she asked, 
 eagerly. She slipped off her glove, and took 
 pencil and paper from the table. "If you will 
 only test my speed, maybe you can make a de- 
 cision sooner." 
 
 He dictated several pages, which she wrote 
 to his entire satisfaction. 
 
 "You are not half as rapid as Jack," she said, 
 laughingly; and then she told him of the prac- 
 tice she had had writing nursery rhymes. 
 
 He seemed so interested that she went on 
 to tell him more about the child, and his great 
 desire to be in the office with her. 
 
 "I told him I would ask you," she said, 
 finally; "but that it was a very unusual thing
 
 JUDGE HAL,I<AM'S DAUGHTER. 123 
 
 to do, and that I doubted very much if any 
 business firm would allow it." 
 
 He saw how hard it had been for her to 
 prefer such a request, and smiled reassuringly. 
 
 "It would be a very small thing for me to 
 do for Richard Hallam's boy," he said. "Tell 
 the little fellow to come, and welcome. He 
 need not be in any one's way. We have three 
 rooms in this suite, and you will occupy the 
 one at the far end." 
 
 It was hard for Bethany to keep back the 
 tears. 
 
 "I can never thank you enough, Mr. Ed- 
 munds," she said. "The legacy papa thought 
 he had secured to us was swept away, but he 
 has left us one thing that more than compen- 
 sates the heritage of his friendships. I have 
 been finding out lately what a great thing it 
 is to be rich in friends." 
 
 Bethany went home jubilant. "Now if my 
 twin tenants turn out to be half as nice," she 
 thought, "this will be a very satisfactory day." 
 
 She tried to picture them, as she walked 
 rapidly on, wondering whether they would be 
 prim and dignified, or nervous and fussy. Mrs.
 
 124 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Marion had said they were fine housekeepers. 
 That might mean they were exacting and hard 
 to please. 
 
 "What 's the use of borrowing trouble?" 
 she concluded, finally. "I '11 take Uncle Doc- 
 tor's advice, and not try to count to-morrow's 
 milestones." 
 
 She found them sitting on the side piazza, 
 being abundantly entertained by Jack. 
 
 "Sister!" he called, excitedly, as she came 
 up the steps to meet them; "this one is Aunt 
 Harry that 's what she told me to call her 
 and the other one is Aunt Carrie; and they've 
 both been around the world together, and both 
 ridden on elephants." 
 
 There was a general laugh at the uncere- 
 monious introduction. 
 
 Miss Caroline took Bethany's hands in her 
 own little plump ones, and stood on tiptoe to 
 give her a hearty kiss. Miss Harriet did the 
 same, holding her a moment longer to look 
 at her with fond scrutiny. 
 
 "Such a striking resemblance to your dear 
 mother," she said. "Sister and I hoped you 
 would look like her." 
 
 "They are homely little bodies, and dread-
 
 JUDGE HALLAM'S DAUGHTER. 125 
 
 fully old-fashioned," 'was Bethany's first im- 
 pression, as she looked at them in their plain 
 dresses of Quaker gray. "But their voices are 
 so musical, and they have such good, motherly 
 faces, I believe they will prove to be real rest- 
 ful kind of people." 
 
 "Sister and I have been such birds of pas- 
 sage, that it will seem good to settle down in 
 a real home-nest for a while," said Miss Harriet, 
 as they were going over the house together. 
 
 "When one has lived in a trunk for a decade, 
 one appreciates big, roomy closets and wardrobes 
 like these." 
 
 They went all over the place, from garret 
 to cellar, and sat down to rest beside an open 
 window, where a climbing rose shook its fra- 
 grance in with every passing breeze. 
 
 "Mrs. Marion thought you might not be 
 ready for us before next week," sighed Miss 
 Caroline; "but these cool, airy rooms do tempt 
 me so. I wish we could come this very after- 
 noon." She smiled insinuatingly at Bethany. 
 "We have nothing to move but our trunks." 
 
 "Well, why not?" answered Bethany. "I 
 shall be glad to surrender the reins any time 
 you want to assume the responsibility."
 
 126 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Then it 's settled !'' cried Miss Caroline, 
 exultingly. "O, I 'in so glad!" and, catching 
 Miss Harriet around her capacious waist, she 
 whirled her around the room, regardless of her 
 protestations, until their spectacles slid down 
 their noses, and they were out of breath. 
 
 Bethany watched them in speechless amaze- 
 ment. Miss Caroline turned in time to catch 
 her expression of alarm. 
 
 "Did you think we had lost our senses, 
 dear?" she asked. "We do not often forget 
 our dignity so; but we have been so long like 
 Noah's dove, with no rest for the sole of our 
 foot, that the thought of having at last found 
 an abiding-place is really overwhelming." 
 
 "I wish you would n't always say 'we,' ' 
 remarked Miss Harriet, with dignity. "I am 
 very sure I have outgrown such ridiculous ex- 
 hibitions of enthusiasm, and it is fully time that 
 you had too." 
 
 "O, come now, Harry," responded Miss 
 Caroline, soothingly. "You 're just as glad as 
 I am, and there 's no use in trying to hide our 
 real selves from people we are going to live 
 with."
 
 JUDGE HALLAM'S DAUGHTER. 127 
 
 Then she turned to Bethany with an apolo- 
 getic air. 
 
 "Sister thinks because we have arrived at 
 a certain date on our calendar, we must con- 
 form to that date. But, try as hard as I can, 
 I fail to feel any older sometimes than I used 
 to at Forest Seminary, when we made midnight 
 raids on the pantry, and had all sorts of larks. 
 I suppose it does look ridiculous, and I 'm sorry; 
 but I can't grow old gracefully, so long as I 
 am just as ready to effervesce as I ever was." 
 
 Bethany was amused at the half-reproach- 
 ful, half-indulgent look that Miss Harriet be- 
 stowed on her sister. 
 
 "They '11 be a constant source of entertain- 
 ment," she thought. "I wonder how we ever 
 happened to drift together." 
 
 Something of the last thought she expressed 
 in a remark to the sisters as they went down 
 stairs together. 
 
 "Indeed, we did not drift!" exclaimed Miss 
 Caroline, decidedly. "You needed us, and we 
 needed you, and the great Weaver crossed our 
 life-threads for some purpose of his own." 
 
 By nightfall the sisters had taken their
 
 128 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 places in the old house, as quietly and naturally 
 as twin turtle-doves tuck their heads under their 
 wings in the shelter of a nest. Their presence 
 in the house gave Bethany such a care-free, 
 restful feeling, and a sense of security that she 
 had not had since she had been left at the head 
 of affairs. 
 
 After Jack had gone to bed, she drew a 
 rocking-chair out into the wide hall, and sat 
 down to enjoy the cool breeze that swept 
 through it. 
 
 Miss Caroline was down in the kitchen, in- 
 terviewing Mena about breakfast. How de- 
 lightful it was to be freed from all responsi- 
 bility of the meals and the marketing! After 
 the next week she would not have even the 
 rooms to attend to, for Miss Caroline had en- 
 gaged a stout maid to do the housework, that 
 Bethany's inexperienced hands had found so 
 irksome. 
 
 Up-stairs, Miss Harriet was stepping briskly 
 around, unpacking one of the trunks. Bethany 
 could hear her singing to herself in a thin, sweet 
 voice, full of old-fashioned quavers and turns. 
 Some of the notes were muffled as she disap-
 
 JUDGE HAI,I,AM'S DAUGHTER. 129 
 
 peared from time to time in the big closet, and 
 some came with jerky force as she tugged at a 
 refractory bureau drawer. 
 
 " Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, 
 
 The clouds ye so much dread 
 Are big with mercy, and shall break 
 In blessings on your head." 
 9
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 
 
 RANK Marion, on his way to the store 
 one morning, stopped at the office 
 where Bethany had been installed 
 just a week. 
 "You will find me dropping in here quite 
 often," he said to Mr. Edmunds, whom he met 
 coining out of the door. "Since that little cousin 
 of mine is never to be found at home in the day- 
 time any more, I shall have to call on him here. 
 He is my right-hand man in Junior League 
 work." 
 
 "Who? Jack?" inquired Mr. Edmunds. 
 "He 's the most original little piece I ever saw. 
 Sorry I 'm called out just now, Frank. You 're 
 always welcome, you know." 
 
 Bethany was seated at her typewriter, so 
 intent on her manuscript that she did not notice 
 Mr. Marion's entrance. Jack, in his chair by 
 the window, was working vigorously with slate 
 and pencil at an arithmetic lesson. As Bethany 
 
 130
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 131 
 
 paused to take the finished page from the ma- 
 chine, Jack looked up and saw Mr. Marion's 
 tall form in the doorway. 
 
 "O, come in!" he cried, joyfully. "I want 
 you to see how nice everything is here. We 
 have the best times." 
 
 Mr. Marion looked across at Bethany, and 
 smiled at the child's delight. 
 
 "Tell me about it," he said, drawing a chair 
 up to the window, and entering into the boy's 
 pleasure with that ready sympathy that was the 
 secret of his success with all children. 
 
 "Well, you see, Bethany wheels me onto 
 the elevator, and up we come. And it 's so nice 
 and cool up here. She has n't been very busy 
 yet. While she writes I get my lessons, or draw, 
 or work puzzles. Then, when Mr. Edmunds 
 and Mr. Porter go off, and she has n't anything 
 to do, I recite to her. But the best fun is 
 grocery tales." 
 
 "What 's 'grocery tales?' " asked Mr. Ma- 
 rion, with nattering interest. 
 
 "Do you see that wholesale grocery-store 
 across the street?" asked Jack, "and all the 
 things sitting around in front? There 's almost 
 everything you can think of, from a broom to
 
 132 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 a banana. 1 choose the first thing I happen to 
 look at, and she tells me a story about it. If it 's 
 a tea-chest, that makes her think of a Chinese 
 story; or if it's a bottle of olives, something about 
 the knights and ladies of Spain. Yesterday it 
 was a chicken-coop, and she told me about a 
 lovely visit she had once on a farm. She says 
 when we come to that coil of rope, it will re- 
 mind her of a storm she was in on the Med- 
 iterranean; and the coffee means a South Amer- 
 ican story; and the watermelons a darkey story; 
 and the brooms something she read once about 
 an old, blind broom-maker. Then I have lots 
 of fun watching people pass. So many teams 
 stop at the watering-trough over there. I like 
 to wonder where everybody comes from, and im- 
 agine what their homes are like. It is almost as 
 good as reading about them in a book." 
 
 "You are a very happy little fellow," said 
 Mr. Marion, patting his cheek, approvingly. 
 "I am glad you are getting strong so fast, so that 
 you can go out into this big, discontented world 
 of ours, and teach other people how to be happy. 
 I 've brought you some more work to do. I want 
 you to look up all these references, and copy
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 133 
 
 them on separate slips of paper for our next 
 meeting. By the way, Bethany," he said, as 
 he rose to go, "I had a letter from our Chat- 
 tanooga Jew this morning. He is as much in 
 earnest as ever. I wish we could get our League 
 interested in him and his mission." 
 
 "It is a very unpopular movement, Cousin 
 Frank," she answered. "Think of the prejudices 
 to overcome. How little the general member- 
 ship of the Church know or care about the 
 Jews! It seems almost impossible to combat 
 such indifference. Carlyle says, 'Every noble 
 work is at first impossible.' ' 
 
 "Ah, Bethany," he answered, "and Paul 
 says: 'I can do all things through Christ who 
 strengthened! me.' I can't get away from the 
 feeling that God wants me to take some forward 
 step in the matter. Every paper I pick up 
 seems to call my attention to it in some way. 
 All the time in my business I am brought in 
 contact with Jews who want to talk to me about 
 my religion. They introduce the subject them- 
 selves. Ray and I have been reading Graetz's 
 history lately. I declare it 's a puzzle to me how 
 any one can read an account of all the race en-
 
 134 IN LRAGUK WITH ISRAKL. 
 
 dured at the hands of the Christianity of the 
 ]\Iiddle Ages, and not be more lenient toward 
 them. Pharaoh's cruelties were not a tithe of 
 what was dealt out to them in the name of the 
 gentle Xazarene. No wonder their children 
 were taught to spit at the mention of such a 
 name." 
 
 "O, is that history as bad as 'Fox's Book of 
 Martyrs?' " asked Jack, eagerly. "We 've got 
 that at home, with the awfullest black and 
 yellow pictures in it of people being burned to 
 death and tortured. I hope, if it is as inter- 
 esting, sister will read it out loud." 
 
 Bethany made such a grimace of remon- 
 strance that Mr. Marion laughed. 
 
 "I '11 send the books over to-morrow. You '11 
 not care to read all five volumes, Jack; but Beth- 
 any can select the parts that will interest you 
 most." 
 
 Jack's tenacious memory brought the sub- 
 ject up again that evening at the table. 
 
 "Aunt Harry," he asked, abruptly, pausing 
 in the act of helping himself to sugar, "do you 
 like the Jews?" 
 
 "Why, no, child," she said, hesitatingly. 
 "I can't say that I take any special interest in
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 135 
 
 them, one way or another. To tell the truth, 
 I 've never known any personally." 
 
 "Would you like to know more about them?" 
 he asked, with childish persistence. " 'Cause 
 Bethany ? s going to read to me about them when 
 Cousin Frank sends the books over, and you can 
 listen if you like." 
 
 "Anything that Bethany reads we shall be 
 glad to hear," answered Miss Harriet. "At 
 first sister and I thought we would not intrude 
 on you in the evenings; but the library does 
 look so inviting, and it is so dull for us to sit 
 with just our knitting- work, since we have 
 stopped reading by lamp-light, that we can not 
 resist the temptation to go in whenever she be- 
 gins to read aloud." 
 
 "O, you 're home-folks," said Jack. 
 
 Bethany had excused herself before this con- 
 versation commenced, and was in the library, 
 opening the mail Miss Caroline had forgotten to 
 give her at noon. When the others joined her, 
 she held up a little pamphlet she had just 
 opened. 
 
 "Look, Tack! It is from Mr. Lessing, from 
 Chattanooga. Tt is an article on 'What shall 
 become of the Jew?' I suppose it is written by
 
 136 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 one of them, at least his name would indicate 
 it Leo N. Levi. It will be interesting to look 
 at that question from their standpoint." 
 
 "Will I like it?" asked Jack. 
 
 "No, I think not," she answered, after a 
 rapid glance through its pages. "We '11 have 
 some more of the 'Bonnie Brier-Bush' to-night, 
 and save this until you are asleep." 
 
 Bethany read well, and excelled in Scotch 
 dialect. When she laid down the book after 
 the story of "A Doctor of the Old School," 
 she saw a big tear splash down on Miss Harriet's 
 knitting-work, and Miss Caroline was furtively 
 wiping her spectacles. 
 
 "Leave the door open," called Jack, when 
 he had been tucked away for the night. "Then 
 I can listen if it 's nice, or go to sleep if it 's dull." 
 
 "Do you really care to hear this?" asked 
 Bethany, picking up the pamphlet. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Caroline, with several em- 
 phatic nods. "I '11 own I am very ignorant on 
 the subject; and after something so highly en- 
 tertaining as these sweet Scotch tales, it 's no 
 more than right that we should take something 
 improving." 
 
 "O sister," called Jack's voice from the next
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 137 
 
 room, "you never told them about Mr. Lessing, 
 did you*" 
 
 "No," answered Bethany. "I never told 
 them any of my Chattanooga experiences. 
 Maybe it would be better to begin with them, 
 and then you can understand how I happened 
 to become so interested in the Hebrew people. 
 The pamphlet can wait until another time." 
 
 She tossed it back on the table, and settled 
 herself comfortably in a big chair. 
 
 "I '11 begin at the beginning," she said, 
 "and tell you how I was persuaded into going, 
 and how strangely events linked into each 
 other." 
 
 "Can't you just see it all?" murmured Miss 
 Caroline, as Bethany drew a graphic picture 
 of the mountain outlook, the sunrise, and the 
 crowded tent. When she came to Lessing's 
 story, Miss Harriet dropped her work in her lap, 
 and Miss Caroline leaned forward in her chair. 
 
 "Dear! dear! It sounds like a chapter out 
 of a romance!" exclaimed Miss Caroline, when 
 Bethany had finished. "That part about the 
 mother's curse and being buried in effigy makes 
 me think of the novels that we used to smuggle 
 into our rooms at school. I wish you could go
 
 138 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 on and give us the next chapter. It is intensely 
 interesting." 
 
 "Ah, the next chapter," replied Bethany, 
 sadly. "I thought of that at the time. What 
 can it be but the daily repetition of commonplace 
 events? He will simply go on to the end in a 
 routine of study and work. He will preach to 
 whatever audiences he can gather around him. 
 That is all the world will see. The other part 
 of it, the burden of loneliness laid upon him 
 because of Jewish scorn and Christian distrust, 
 the soul-struggles, the spiritual victories, the 
 silent heroism, will be unwritten and unap- 
 plauded, because unseen." 
 
 "I do n't wonder you are interested," said 
 Miss Harriet. "Would you believe it, I do n't 
 know the difference between an orthodox and 
 a reform Jew? I think I shall look it up to- 
 morrow in the encyclopedia." 
 
 She picked up the little pamphlet, and 
 opened at random. 
 
 "Here is a marked paragraph," she said. 
 " 'The Jew is everywhere in evidence. He sells 
 vodki in Russia; he matches his cunning against 
 Moslem and Greek in Turkey; he fights for ex- 
 istence and endures martyrdom in the Balkan
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 139 
 
 provinces; he crowds the professions, the arts, 
 the market-place, the bourse, and the army, in 
 France, England, Austria, and Germany. He 
 has invaded every calling in America, and every- 
 where he is seen ; and, what is more to the point, 
 he is felt. He runs through the entire length of 
 history, as a thin but well-defined line, touched 
 by the high lights of great events at almost every 
 point.' " 
 
 "Where did we leave off with him, sister?" 
 she asked, turning to Miss Caroline. "Was n't 
 it at the destruction of the temple, somewhere 
 in the neighborhood of 70 A. D.? We shall 
 have to trace that line back a considerable dis- 
 tance, I am thinking, if we would know any- 
 thing on the subject." 
 
 "Let 's trace it then," said Miss Caroline, 
 with her usual alacrity. 
 
 Several evenings after, when Bethany came 
 home from the office, she found a new book on 
 the table, with Miss Caroline's name on the 
 fly-leaf. It was "The Children of the Ghetto." 
 
 "I bought it this afternoon," she explained, 
 a little nervously. "It is one of Zangwill's. The 
 clerk at the bookstore told me he is called the 
 Jewish Dickens, and that it is very interesting.
 
 140 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Of course, I am no critic, but it looked interest- 
 ing, and I thought you might not mind read- 
 ing it aloud. Several sentences caught my eye 
 that made me think it might be as entertaining 
 as 'Old Curiosity Shop,' or 'Oliver Twist.' " 
 
 Bethany rapidly scanned several pages. "I 
 believe it is the very thing to give us an insight 
 into the later day customs and beliefs of the 
 masses." 
 
 She read the headings of several of the 
 chapters aloud, and a sentence here and there. 
 
 "Listen to this!" she exclaimed. " 'We are 
 proud and happy in that the dread unknown 
 God of the infinite universe has chosen our race 
 as the medium by which to reveal his will to 
 the world. History testifies that this has verily 
 been our mission, that we have taught the world 
 religion as truly as Greece has taught beauty 
 and science. Our miraculous survival through 
 the cataclysms of ancient and modern dynasties 
 is a proof that our mission is not yet over.' ' 
 
 "O, I thought it was going to be a story!" 
 exclaimed Jack, in a disappointed tone. 
 
 "It is, dear," answered Bethany. "You can 
 understand part, and I will explain the rest." 
 
 So it came about that, after the Scotch tales
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 141 
 
 were laid aside, the little group in the library 
 nightly turned their sympathies toward the 
 children of the London Ghetto, as it existed in 
 the early days of the century. 
 
 "I can never feel the same towards them 
 again," said Miss- Caroline, the night they fin- 
 ished the book. "I understand them so much 
 better. It is just as the proem says: 'People 
 who have been living in a ghetto for a couple 
 of centuries are not able to step outside merely 
 because the gates are thrown down, nor to efface 
 the brands on their souls by putting off the 
 yellow badges. Their faults are bred of its 
 hovering miasma of persecution.' ' 
 
 "Yes," answered Bethany, "I am glad he 
 has given us such a diversity of types. You 
 know that article that Mr. Lessing sent me says: 
 'No people can be fairly judged by its superla- 
 tives. It would be silly to judge all the Chinese 
 by Confucius, or all the Americans by Benedict 
 Arnold. If the Jews squirm and indignantly 
 protest against Shy lock and Fagin and Svengali, 
 they must be consistent, and not claim as types 
 Scott's Rebecca and Lessing's Nathan the Wise.' 
 Now, Zangwill has given us a glimpse of all 
 sorts of people the 'pots and pans' of material
 
 142 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Judaism, as well as the altar-fires of its most spir- 
 itual idealists. I hope you '11 go on another in- 
 vestigating tour, Miss Caroline, and bring home 
 something else as instructive." 
 
 But before Miss Caroline found time to go 
 on another voyage of discovery among the book- 
 stores, something happened at the office that 
 gave a deeper interest to their future investiga- 
 tions. 
 
 Mr. Edmunds sat at the table a few minutes 
 longer than usual, one morning after he had 
 finished dictating his letters, to say: "We are 
 about to make some changes in the office, Miss 
 Hallam. Mr. Porter has decided to go abroad 
 for a while. Family matters may keep him 
 there possibly a year. During his absence it is 
 necessary to have some one in his place; and, 
 after mature deliberation, we have decided to 
 take in a young lawyer who has two points 
 decidedly in his favor. He has marked ability, 
 and he will attract a wealthy class of clients. 
 He is a young Jew, a protege of Rabbi 
 Barthold's. Personally, I have the highest re- 
 spect for him, although Mr. Porter is a little 
 prejudiced against him on account of his na-
 
 A KINDLING INTEREST. 143 
 
 tionality. I wondered if you shared that feel- 
 ing." 
 
 "No, indeed!" answered Bethany, quickly. 
 "I have been greatly interested in studying their 
 history this summer." 
 
 "Well, I have" never given their past much 
 thought," responded Mr. Edmunds; "but their 
 relation to the business world has recently at- 
 tracted my attention. It is wonderful to me 
 the way they are filling up the positions of 
 honor and trust all over the world. Statistics 
 show such a large proportion of them have ac- 
 quired wealth and prominence. Still, it is only 
 what we ought to expect, when we remember 
 their characteristics. They have such /mental 
 agility,' such power of adapting themselves to 
 circumstances, and such a resistless energy. 
 Maybe I should put their temperate habits first, 
 for I can not remember ever seeing a Jew in- 
 toxicated; and as to industry, the records of our 
 county poor-house show that in all the^ seventy 
 years of its existence, it has never had a Jewish 
 inmate. People with such qualities are like 
 cream, bound to rise to the top, no matter what 
 kind of a vessel they are poured into."
 
 144 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "Who is this young man?" asked Bethany, 
 coming back to the first subject. 
 
 "David Herschel," responded Mr. Edmunds. 
 "You may have met him." 
 
 "David Herschel!" repeated Bethany, in- 
 credulously. She caught her breath in surprise. 
 Was there to be a deliberate crossing of life- 
 threads here, or had she been caught in some 
 tangle of chance? Maybe this was the oppor- 
 tunity she had prayed for that morning when 
 she had listened to Lessing's story, and caught 
 the inspiration of his consecrated life. 
 
 A feeling of awe crept over her, that a hu- 
 man voice could so reach the ear of the Infinite, 
 and draw down an answer to its petition. She 
 was almost frightened at the thought of the re- 
 sponsibility such an answer laid upon her. O, 
 the childishness with which we beat against 
 the portals as we importune high Heaven for op- 
 portunities, and then shrink back when the Al- 
 mighty hands them out to us, afraid to take and 
 use what we have most cried for!
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 
 
 T was a sultry morning in August 
 when David Herschel took his place 
 in the law-office of Porter & Ed- 
 munds. 
 
 The sun beat against the tall buildings until 
 the radiated heat of the streets was sickening 
 in its intensity. Clerks went to their work with 
 pale faces and languid movements. Everything 
 had a wilted look, and the watering-carts left a 
 steam rising in their trail, almost as disagreeable 
 as the clouds of dust had been before. 
 
 Miss Caroline had insisted on Jack's remain- 
 ing at home, and Bethany's wearing a thin white 
 dress in place of her customary suit of heavy 
 black. They had both protested, but as Bethany 
 went slowly towards the office she was glad that 
 the sensible old lady had carried her point. 
 
 To shorten the distance, she passed through 
 one of the poorer streets of the town. Disagree- 
 10 145
 
 146 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 able odors, suggestive of late breakfasts, lloated 
 out from steamy kitchens. Neglected, half- 
 dressed children cried on the doorsteps and 
 quarreled in the gutters. 
 
 A great longing came over Bethany for a 
 breath from wide, fresh fields, or green, shady 
 woodlands. This was the first summer she had 
 ever passed in the city. August had always 
 been associated in her mind with the wind in 
 the pine woods, or the sound of the sea on some 
 rocky coast. It recalled the musical drip of the 
 waterfalls trickling down high banks of thickly- 
 growing ferns. It brought back the breath of 
 clover-fields and the mint in hillside pastures. 
 
 A strong repugnance to her work seized her. 
 She felt that she could not possibly bear to go 
 back to the routine of the office and the mo- 
 notonous click of her typewriter. The longer 
 she thought of those old care-free summers, the 
 more she chafed at the confinement of the pres- 
 ent one. 
 
 She sighed wearily as she reached the en- 
 trance of the great building. Every door and 
 window stood open. While she waited for the 
 elevator-boy to respond to her ring, she turned 
 her eyes toward the street. A blind man passed
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 147 
 
 by, led by a wan, sad-eyed child. The sun was 
 beating mercilessly on the man's gray head, 
 for his cap was held appealingly in his out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 "How dared I feel dissatisfied with my lot?" 
 thought Bethany, with a swift rush of pity, as 
 the contrast between this blind beggar's life 
 and hers was forced upon her. 
 
 There was no one in the office when she 
 entered. After the glare of the street, it seemed 
 so comfortable that she thought again of the 
 blind beggar and the child who led him, with a 
 feeling of remorse for her discontent. 
 
 A great bunch of lilies stood in a tall glass 
 vase on the table, filling the room with their fra- 
 grance. She took out a card that was half hid- 
 den among them. Lightly penciled, in a small, 
 running hand, was the one word "Consider!" 
 
 "That's just like Cousin Ray," thought 
 Bethany, quickly interpreting the message. "She 
 knew this would be an unusually trying day 
 on account of the heat, so she gives me some- 
 thing to think about instead of my irksome con- 
 finement. 'They toil not, neither do they 
 spin,' " she whispered, lifting one snowy chalice 
 to her lips; "but what help they bring to those
 
 148 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 who do sweet, white evangels to all those who 
 labor and are heavy laden!" 
 
 She fastened one in her belt, then turned to 
 her work. She had been copying a record, and 
 wanted to finish it before Mr. Edmunds was 
 ready to attend to the morning mail. Her 
 fingers flew over the keys without a pause, ex- 
 cept when she stopped to put in a new sheet 
 of paper. When she was nearly through, she 
 heard Mr. Edmunds's voice in the next room, 
 and increased her speed. She had forgotten 
 that this was the day David Herschel was to 
 come into the office. He had taken the desk 
 assigned him, and was so busily engaged in con- 
 versation with Mr. Edmunds that for a while 
 he did not notice the occupant of the next room. 
 When, at last, he happened to glance through 
 the open door, he did not recognize Bethany, 
 for she was seated with her back toward him. 
 
 He noticed what a cool-looking white dress 
 she wore, the graceful poise of her head, and 
 her beautiful sunny hair. Then he saw the lilies 
 beside her, and wished she would turn so that 
 he could see her face. 
 
 "Some fair Elaine a lily-maid of Astolat," 
 he thought, and then smiled at himself for hav-
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 149 
 
 ing grown Tennysonian over a typewriter be- 
 fore he had even heard her name or seen her 
 face. 
 
 At last Bethany finished the record, with a 
 sigh of relief. Quickly fastening the pages, 
 she rose to take it into the next room. Just on 
 the threshold she saw Herschel, and gave an in- 
 voluntary little start of surprise. 
 
 As she stood there, all in white, with one 
 hand against the dark door-casing, she looked 
 just as she had the night David first saw her. 
 He arose as she entered. 
 
 Mr. Edmunds was not usually a man of 
 quick perceptions, but he noticed the look of 
 admiration in David's eyes, and he thought they 
 both seemed a trifle embarrassed as he intro- 
 duced them. 
 
 They had recalled at the same moment the 
 night in the Chattanooga depot, when she had 
 distinctly declared to Mr. Marion that she did 
 not care to make his acquaintance. 
 
 For once in her life she lost her usual self- 
 possession. That gracious ease of manner which 
 "stamps the caste of Vere de Vere " was one 
 of her greatest charms. But just at this mo- 
 ment, when she wished to atone for that un-
 
 150 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 fortunate remark by an especially friendly 
 greeting, when she wanted him to know that her 
 point of view had changed entirely, and that 
 not a vestige of the old prejudice remained, she 
 could not summon a word to her aid. 
 
 Conscious of appearing ill at ease, she 
 blushed like a diffident school-girl, and bowed 
 coldly. 
 
 David courteously remained standing until 
 she had laid the record on Mr. Edmunds's desk 
 and left the room. 
 
 Mr. Edmunds glanced at him quickly, as he 
 resumed his seat; but there was not the slightest 
 change of expression to show that he had noticed 
 what appeared to be an intentional haughtiness 
 of manner in Bethany's greeting. But he had 
 noticed it, and it stung his sensitive nature more 
 than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. 
 
 Nothing more passed between them for sev- 
 eral days, except the formal morning greeting. 
 Then Jack came back to the office. He had 
 gained rapidly since the new brace had been 
 applied. During his enforced absence on ac- 
 count of the heat, he found that he could wheel 
 himself short distances, and proudly insisted on 
 doing so, as they went through the hall. He was
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 151 
 
 a great favorite in the building. Everybody, 
 from the janitor to the dignified judge on the 
 same floor, stopped to speak to him. He was 
 such a thorough boy, so full of fun and spirits, 
 despite the misfortune that chained him to the 
 chair and had sometimes made him suffer ex- 
 tremely, that the sight of him oftener provoked 
 pleasure than pity. He was so glad to get back 
 to the office that he was bubbling over with 
 happiness. It seemed to him he had been away 
 for an age. The cordial reception he met on 
 every hand made his eyes twinkle and the 
 dimples show in his cheeks. 
 
 Mr. Edmunds had not come down, but David 
 was at his desk, busily writing. Bethany 
 paused as they passed through the room. 
 
 "Allow me to introduce my little brother, 
 Mr. Herschel," she said. "Jack is very anxious 
 to meet you." 
 
 He glanced up quickly. This friendly- 
 voiced girl, leaning over Jack's chair, with the 
 brightness of his roguish face reflected in her 
 own, was such a transformation from the digni- 
 fied Miss Hallam he had known heretofore, that 
 he could hardly credit his eyesight. He was 
 surprised into such an unusual cordiality of
 
 152 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 manner, that Jack straightway took him into 
 his affections, and set about cultivating a very 
 strong friendship between them. 
 
 One afternoon Bethany was called into an- 
 other office to take a deposition. She left Jack 
 busy drawing on his slate. 
 
 David, who had been reading several hours, 
 laid down the book after a while, with a yawn, 
 and glanced into the next room. The steady 
 scratch of the slate pencil had ceased, and Jack 
 was gazing disconsolately out of the window. 
 
 As he heard the book drop on the table he 
 turned his head quickly. ''May I come in 
 there?" he asked David eagerly. 
 
 David nodded assent. "You may come in 
 and wake me up. The heat and the book to- 
 gether, have made me drowsy." 
 
 Jack pushed his chair over by a window, and 
 looked out towards the court house. It was late 
 in the afternoon, and the massive building threw 
 long shadows across the green sward surround- 
 ing it. 
 
 "I wanted to see if the flag is flying," said 
 Jack. "I can't tell from my window. Do n't 
 you love to watch it flap? I do, for it always 
 makes me think of heroes. I love he-
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 153 
 
 roes, and I love to listen to stories about 
 'em. Don't you? It makes you feel so 
 creepy, and your hair kind o' stands up, and you 
 hold your breath while they 're a-risking their 
 lives to save somebody, or doing something 
 else that 's awfully brave. And then, when 
 they 've done it, there 's a lump in your throat; 
 but you feel so warm all over somehow, and you 
 want to cheer, and march right off to 'storm the 
 heights,' and wipe every thing mean off the face 
 of the earth, and do all sorts of big, brave things. 
 I always do. Do n't you?" 
 
 "Yes," answered David, amused by his boy- 
 ish enthusiasm, yet touched by the recognition 
 of a kindred spirit. "May be you will be a hero 
 yourself, some day," he suggested in order to 
 lead the boy further on. 
 
 "No, I 'm afraid not," answered Jack, sadly. 
 "Papa wanted me to be a lawyer. He was in the 
 war till he got wounded so bad he had to come 
 home. We've got his sword and cap yet. I used 
 to put 'em on sometimes, and say I was going 
 to go to West Point and learn to be a soldier. 
 But he always shook his head and said, 'No, son, 
 that 's not the highest way you can serve your 
 country now.' Then sometimes I think I '11
 
 154 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 have to be a preacher like my grandfather, John 
 Wesley Bradford, because he left me all his 
 library, and I am named for him. Jack isn't 
 my real name, you know." 
 
 "Would you like to be a preacher?" asked 
 David, as the boy paused to catch a fly that was 
 buzzing exasperatingly around him. 
 
 "No!" answered Jack, emphasizing his an- 
 swer by a savage slap at the fly. "Only except 
 when we get to talking about the Jews. You 
 know we are very much interested in your people 
 at our house." 
 
 "No, I did n't know it," answered David, 
 amused by the boy's matter-of-fact announce- 
 ment. "How did you come to be so interested?" 
 
 "Well, it started with the Epvvorth League 
 Conference at Chattanooga. There was a con- 
 verted Jew up there on the mountain that spoke 
 in the sunrise meeting. Cousin Frank went to 
 see him afterwards. He took Bethany with him 
 to write down what they said in shorthand. O, 
 he had the most interesting history! You just 
 ought to hear sister tell it. You know the two 
 old ladies I told you about, that live at our house. 
 Well, may be it is n't polite to tell you so, but
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 155 
 
 they did n't have the least bit of use for the Jews 
 before that. Now, since we 've been reading 
 about the awful way they were persecuted, and 
 how they 've hung together through thick and 
 thin, they 've changed their minds." 
 
 "And you say that it is only when you are 
 talking about the Jews that you would like to be 
 a preacher," said David, as the boy stopped, and 
 began whistling softly. He wanted to bring 
 him back to the subject. 
 
 "Yes," answered Jack. "When I think how 
 that man's whole life was changed by a little 
 Junior League girl; how she started him, and 
 he '11 start others, and they '11 start somebody 
 else, and the ball will keep rolling, and so much 
 good will be done, just on her account, I 'd like 
 to do something in that line myself. I 'm first 
 vice-president of our League, you know," he 
 said, proudly displaying the badge pinned on 
 his coat. 
 
 "But I would n't like to be a regular 
 preacher that just stands up and tells people 
 what they already believe. That 's too much like 
 boxing a pillow." He doubled up his fist and 
 sparred at an imaginary foe.
 
 156 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I 'd like to go off somewhere, like Paul did, 
 and make every blow count. We studied the life 
 of Paul last year in the League. Talk about 
 heroes there 's one for you. My, but he was 
 game! Thrashed and stoned, and shipwrecked 
 and put in prison, and chained up to another 
 man but they could n't choke him off!" Jack 
 chuckled at the thought. 
 
 "Did you ever notice," he continued, "that 
 when a Jew does turn Christian he 's deader in 
 earnest than anybody else? Cousin Frank told 
 us to notice that. There 's Matthew. He was 
 making a good salary in the custom-house, and 
 he quit right off. And Peter and Andrew and 
 the rest of 'em left their boats and all their fish- 
 ing tackle, and every thing in the wide world 
 that they owned. Mr. Lessing had even to give 
 up his family. Cousin Frank told us about ever 
 so many that had done that way. So that 's why 
 I 'd rather preach to them than other people. 
 They amount to so much when you once get 
 them made over." 
 
 "You might commence on me," said David. 
 
 Jack colored to the roots of his hair, and 
 looked confused. He stole a sidelong glance at
 
 A JUNIOR TAKRS IT IN HAND. 157 
 
 David, and began to wheel his chair slowly back 
 into the other room. 
 
 "I have n't gone into the business yet," he 
 called back over his shoulder, recovering his 
 equanimity with young American quickness, 
 "But when I do P'll give you the first call." 
 
 David was so amused by the conversation 
 that he could not refrain from recounting part 
 of it to Bethany when she returned. It seemed 
 to put them on a friendlier footing. 
 
 Finding that she was really making a study 
 of the history of his people, he gave her many 
 valuable suggestions, and several times brought 
 Jewish periodicals with articles marked for her 
 to read. 
 
 "My Sunday-school class have become so in- 
 terested," she told him. "They are very well 
 versed in the ancient history, but this is some- 
 thing so new to them." 
 
 "I wish you knew Rabbi Barthold," he ex- 
 claimed. "He would be an inspiration in any 
 line of study, but especially in this, for he has 
 thrown his whole soul into it. Ah, I wish you 
 read Hebrew. One loses so much in the trans- 
 lation. There are places in the Psalms and Job
 
 158 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 where the majesty of the thought is simply un- 
 translatable. You know there are some pebbles 
 and shells that, seen in water, have the most ex- 
 quisite delicacy of coloring; yet taken from 
 that element, they lose that brilliancy. I have 
 noticed the same effect in changing a thought 
 from the medium of one language to another." 
 
 "Yes," answered Bethany, "I have recog- 
 nized that difficulty, too, in translating from the 
 German. There is a subtle something that es- 
 capes, that while it does not change the sub- 
 stance, leaves the verse as soulless as a flower 
 without its fragrance." 
 
 "Ah! I see you understand me," he re- 
 sponded. "That is why I would have you read 
 the greatest of all literature in its original set- 
 ting. Are you fond of language?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "though not an en- 
 thusiast. I took the course in Latin and German 
 at school, and got a smattering of French the 
 year I was abroad. Afterwards I read Greek 
 a little at home with papa, to get a better under- 
 standing of the New Testament. But Hebrew 
 always seemed to me so very difficult that only 
 spectacled theologians attempted it. You know
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 159 
 
 ordinary tourists ascend the Rigi and Vesuvius 
 as a matter of course. Only daring climbers 
 attempt the Jungfrau. I scaled only the heights 
 made easy of ascent by a system of meister- 
 schafts and mountain railways." 
 
 He laughed. ""Hebrew is not so difficult as 
 you imagine, Miss Hallam. Any one that can 
 master stenography can easily compass that. 
 There is a similarity in one respect. In both, 
 dots and dashes take the place of vowels. I will 
 bring you a grammar to-morrow, and show you 
 how easy the rudiments are." 
 
 Jack was more interested than Bethany. He 
 had never seen a book in Hebrew type before. 
 The square, even characters charmed him, and 
 he began to copy them on his slate. 
 
 "I 'd like to learn this," he announced. 
 "The letters are nothing but chairs and tables." 
 
 "It was a picture language in the begin- 
 ning," said David, leaning over his chair, much 
 pleased with his interest. "Xow, that first letter 
 used to be the head of an ox. See how the horns 
 branch?- And this next one, Beth, was a house. 
 Do n't you remember how many names in the 
 Bible begin with that Beth-el, Beth-horon,
 
 160 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Beth-Shan they all mean house of something; 
 house of God, house of caves, house of rest." 
 
 Jack gave a whistled "whe-ew!" "It would 
 teach a fellow lots. What are you a house of, 
 Beth-any?" 
 
 He looked up, but his sister had been called 
 into the next room. 
 
 "Would you really like to study it, Jack?" 
 asked David. "It will be a great help to you 
 when you 'go into the business' of preaching to 
 us Jews." 
 
 Jack tilted his head to one side, and thrust his 
 tongue out of the corner of his mouth in an em- 
 barrassed way. Then he looked up, and saw that 
 David was not laughing at him, but soberly 
 awaiting his answer. 
 
 "Yes, I really would," he answered, de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 "Then I '11 teach you as long as you are in 
 the office." 
 
 Mr. Marion came in one day and saw David's 
 dark head and Jack's yellow one bending over 
 the same page, and listened to the boy's enthu- 
 siastic explanation of the letters. 
 
 "I wish we could form a class of our Sabbath-
 
 A JUNIOR TAKES IT IN HAND. 161 
 
 school teachers/' said Mr. Marion. "Would you 
 undertake to teach it, Herschel?" 
 
 The young man hesitated. "If it were con- 
 venient I might make the attempt," he said. 
 "But I do not live in the city. My home is out 
 at Hillhollow." : 
 
 Then, after a pause, while some other plan 
 seemed to be revolving in his mind, he asked: 
 "Why not get Rabbi Barthold? He is a born 
 teacher, and nothing would delight him more 
 than to imbue some other soul with a zeal for his 
 beloved mother-tongue." 
 
 "I '11 certainly take the matter into consid- 
 eration," responded Mr. Marion, "if you will get 
 his consent, and find what his terms are. Beth- 
 any, I '11 head the list with your name. Then 
 there 's Ray and myself. That makes three, and 
 I know at least three of my teachers that I am 
 sure of. I wish George Cragmore were here. 
 Do you know, Bethany, it would not surprise me 
 very much if the Conference sends him here this 
 fall?" 
 
 "Not in Dr. Bascom's place," she exclaimed. 
 
 "O no, he is too young a man for Garrison 
 Avenue, and unmarried besides. But I heard 
 11
 
 162 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 that the Clark Street Church had asked for him. 
 I hope the bishop will consider the call." 
 
 "Do n't set your heart on it, Cousin Frank," 
 she answered. "You know what is apt to befall 
 'the best laid schemes of mice and men.' "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 
 
 UGUST slipped into September. The 
 vase on Bethany's desk, that Mrs. 
 Marion had kept filled with lilies, 
 brightened the room with the glow 
 of the earliest golden-rod. 
 
 "Is n't it pretty?" said Jack, drawing a spray 
 through his fingers. "It makes me think of 
 your hair, sister. They are both so soft and 
 fuzzy-looking." 
 
 "And like the sunshine," added David men- 
 tally, wishing he dared express his admiration 
 as openly as Jack. His desk was at an angle 
 overlooking Bethany's, and he often studied her 
 face while she worked, as he would have studied 
 some rare portrait not so much for the perfect 
 contour and delicacy of coloring as for the soul 
 that shone through it. 
 
 She had seldom spoken to him of spiritual 
 things. It was from Jack he learned how in- 
 terested she was in all her Church relationships. 
 
 163
 
 164 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Still he felt forcibly an influence that he could 
 not define; that silent charm of a consecrated 
 life, linked close with the perfect life of the 
 Master. 
 
 One day when he was thus idly occupied, 
 the janitor tiptoed into the room, ushering a lady 
 past to Bethany's desk. David looked up as she 
 passed, attracted by her unusual costume. It 
 was all black, except that there were deep, white 
 cuffs rolled back over the sleeves, and a large, 
 white collar. The close-fitting black bonnet was 
 tied under the chin with broad white bows. She 
 was a sweet-faced woman, with strong, capable 
 looking hands. 
 
 David heard Bethany exclaim, "Why, Jo- 
 sephine Bentley!" as if much surprised to see 
 her. Then they stood face to face, holding each 
 other's hands while they talked in low, rapid 
 tones. 
 
 The stranger staid only a few moments. 
 After she passed out, David strolled leisurely up 
 to Bethany's desk. 
 
 "I hope you '11 excuse my curiosity, Miss 
 Hallam," he said. "I am interested in the cos- 
 tume of the lady who was here just now. I 've 
 seen one like it before. Can you tell me to what
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 165 
 
 order she belongs? Is it anything like the Sis- 
 ters of Charity?" 
 
 "Yes, something like it," she answered. 
 "She is a deaconess. There is this difference. 
 They take no vows of perpetual service to the 
 order, but their lives are as entirely consecrated 
 to their work as though they had 'taken the veil/ 
 as the nuns call it. This friend of mine who was 
 just here, is a visiting deaconess. She goes about 
 doing good in the Master's own way, to rich and 
 poor alike. She came in just now to report a 
 case of destitution she had discovered. I am 
 chairman of the Mercy and Help Department 
 in our League." 
 
 "Is that all they do?" asked David. 
 
 "All!" repeated Bethany. "You should see 
 the Deaconess Home on Clark Street. They 
 have a hospital there, and a Kitchen-garten. It 
 is the work of some of these women to gather in 
 all the poor, neglected girls they can find. They 
 make it so very attractive that the poor children 
 are taught to be respectable little housekeepers, 
 without suspecting that the music and games 
 are really lessons. Homes that could be reached 
 in no other way have some wonderful changes 
 wrought in them."
 
 166 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "You have so many different organizations 
 in your Church," said David. "Seems to me I 
 am always hearing of a new one. There is an 
 old saying, 'Too many cooks spoil the broth.' 
 Did you never prove the truth of that?" 
 
 "Now, that 's one beauty of Methodism," 
 exclaimed Bethany. "The little wheels all fit 
 into the big one like so many cogs, and all help 
 each other. For instance, here is the deaconess 
 work. It goes hand in hand with the League, 
 only reaching out farther, with our motto of 'Lift 
 Up,' for they have an 'open sesame' that unbars 
 all avenues to them. Of all hard, self-sacrificing 
 lives, it seems to me a nurse deaconess has the 
 hardest. She goes only into homes unable to 
 pay for such services, and whatever there is to 
 do in the way of nursing, or of cleansing these 
 poverty-stricken homes, she does unflinchingly." 
 
 "The reason I asked," answered David, "is 
 that one day last week I went down to that ter- 
 rible quarter of the city near the lower wharves. 
 I wanted to find a man who I knew would be 
 a valuable witness in the Dartmon murder case. 
 I had been told that the only time to find him 
 would be before six o'clock, as he was u deck- 
 hand on one of the early boats. I had been
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 167 
 
 directed to a laundry-office in a row of rotten 
 old tenements near the river. I found the room 
 used as an office was down in a damp basement. 
 It was about half-past five when I reached there. 
 I went down the rickety old stairs and knocked 
 several times. You can imagine my surprise 
 when the door was opened by a refined-looking 
 woman, in just such a costume as your friend 
 wore, except, of course, the little bonnet. When 
 I told her my errand, she asked me to step inside 
 a moment. The smell of sewer-gas almost stifled 
 me at first. There was a narrow counter where 
 a few bundles were lying, still uncalled for. I 
 learned afterward, that the laundry had failed, 
 and these were left to await claimants. There 
 was a calico curtain stretched across the room 
 to form a partition. She drew it aside, and 
 motioned me to look in. There was a table, two 
 chairs, a gasoline stove, and an old bed. Lying 
 across the foot of the bed, as if utterly worn-out 
 with weariness and sorrow, lay a young girl 
 heavily sleeping. A baby, only a few months 
 old, was lying among the pillows, as white and 
 still as if it were dead. The woman dropped the 
 curtain with a shudder. 'It is the poor girl's 
 husband you are looking for,' she said. 'He is
 
 168 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 a rough, drunken fellow, and has been away for 
 days, nobody knows where. The baby is dying. 
 I was called here at three o'clock this morning. 
 A physician came for me, but he said it could not 
 live many hours. O, it was awful! The cock- 
 roaches swarmed all over the floor, and the rats 
 were so bad they fairly ran over our feet. The 
 poor girl sank in a heavy stupor soon after I 
 came, from sheer exhaustion. There is nothing 
 to eat in the house, and the milk I brought with 
 me for the baby has soured. It seems a dreadful 
 thing to say, but I dare not leave the baby while 
 she is asleep long enough to get anything on 
 account of the rats.' Of course I went out and 
 got the things she needed. Then there was 
 nothing more I could do, she said. The 
 wretched poverty of the scene, and the woman's 
 bravery, have been in my thoughts ever since." 
 "I heard of that case yesterday," Bethany 
 said, when he had finished. "I know the nurse, 
 Belle Carleton. The baby died, and they took 
 the mother to the Deaconess Hospital. She has 
 typhoid fever. Belle told me of another experi- 
 ence she had. Her life is full of them. She was 
 sent to a family where drunkenness was the cause 
 of the poverty. The man had not had steady
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 169 
 
 work for a year, because he was never sober more 
 than a few days at a time. They lived in three 
 rooms in the rear basement of a large tenement- 
 house. Belle said, when she opened the door of 
 the first room, it seemed the most forlorn place 
 she had ever seen. There was a table piled full 
 of dirty dishes, and a cooking-stove covered with 
 ashes, on which stood a wash-boiler filled with 
 half-washed clothes. The floor looked as if it 
 had never known the touch of a broom. The 
 odor of the boiling suds was sickening. A slat- 
 ternly, half-grown girl, one of the neighbors, 
 stood beside a leaky tub, washing as best she 
 knew how. Four dirty, half-starved children 
 were playing on the bare floor. Their mother 
 was sick in the next room. I could n't begin to 
 repeat Belle's description of that bedroom, it 
 was so filthy and infested with vermin. She 
 said, when she saw all that must be done, that 
 repulsive creature bathed, the dishes washed, 
 and the floor scrubbed, a great loathing came 
 over her. She felt that she could not possibly 
 touch a thing in the room. She wanted to turn 
 and run away from it all. I said to her, 'O, 
 Belle, how could you force yourself to do such 
 repulsive things?' '
 
 170 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "What did she say?" exclaimed Herschel. 
 
 Bethany's face reflected some of the tender- 
 ness that must have shone in Belle Carleton's, 
 as she repeated her answer softly, "For Jesus' 
 sake!" 
 
 There was a long pause, which Herschel 
 broke by saying: "And she staid there, I sup- 
 pose, forced her shrinking hands into contact 
 with what she despised, did the most menial 
 services, from a sense of duty to a man whom 
 she had never seen, who died centuries ago? 
 Miss Hallam, how could she? I find it very hard 
 to understand." 
 
 "No, not from a sense of duty," corrected 
 Bethany, "so much as love." 
 
 "Well, for love then. What was there in 
 this man of Nazareth to inspire such devotion 
 after such a lapse of time? I understand how 
 one might admire his ethical teaching, how one 
 might even try to embody his precepts in a code 
 to live by; but how he can inspire such sublime 
 annihilation of self, surpasses my comprehen- 
 sion. He was no greater lawgiver than Moses, 
 yet who makes such sacrifices for the love of 
 Moses? Peter suffered martyrdom, and Paul;
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 171 
 
 yet who is ready to lay down his life cheerfully 
 and say, 'I do it for the sake of Peter or 
 Paul?'" 
 
 "Mr. Herschel," said Bethany, looking up 
 at him wistfully, "do n't you see that it is no 
 mere man who exercises such power; that he 
 must be what he claimed one with the 
 Father?" 
 
 Cragmore's passionate exclamation that day 
 on the train came back to him: "O, my friend, 
 if you could only see my Savior as he has been 
 revealed to me!" 
 
 Then he seemed to hear Lessing's voice as 
 they paced back and forth in front of the tent, 
 arm in arm in the darkness. 
 
 "Of a truth you can not understand these 
 things, unless you be born again be born of 
 the Spirit, into a realm of spiritual knowledge 
 you have never yet even dreamed of. Winged life 
 is latent in the worm, even while it has no con- 
 ception of any existence higher than the cab- 
 bage-leaf it crawls upon. But how is it possible 
 for it to conceive of flight until it has passed 
 through some change that bursts the chrysalis 
 and provides the wings?"
 
 172 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The silence was growing oppressive. David 
 shook his head, rose, and slowly walked out of 
 the room. 
 
 "Sister," said Jack, a few days after, as she 
 wheeled him homeward from the office at noon- 
 time, "Mr. Herschel keeps teasing me all the 
 time about something I said once about preach- 
 ing to the Jews. He brings it up so often, that 
 if he does n't look out I '11 begin on him sure 
 enough." 
 
 Whatever answer Bethany might have made 
 was interrupted by Miss Caroline, who met them 
 as they turned a corner. 
 
 "Do tell!" she exclaimed in surprise. "You 
 were in my mind just this minute. I wondered 
 if I might not chance to meet you." 
 
 "Where have you been, Aunt Carrie?" asked 
 Jack, seeing that she carried several small 
 parcels. 
 
 "Shopping," she said. "Just think of it! 
 Caroline Courtney actually out shopping in the 
 dry-goods stores." 
 
 "What's the occasion?" asked Bethany. 
 "It must be something important. I can't re- 
 member that you have done such a thing before
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 173 
 
 since I have known you. Have you been in- 
 vited to a ball, a wedding, or a wake?" 
 
 Miss Caroline beamed on them through her 
 spectacles. "Really, my dears, that is just what 
 I would like to know myself. That 's why I had 
 to make these purchases. Your cousin Ray 
 came in this morning, just after you had gone, 
 to invite us all to go to her house at half-past six 
 this evening. She would n't tell us what sort 
 of an occasion she was planning, only that it was 
 a surprise for everybody, Mr. Marion most of 
 all. He has been gone a week on a business trip, 
 but will get home to-night at six. Sister and I 
 have been trying to think what kind of an occa- 
 sion it could be. I know it is n't their wedding 
 anniversary, nor her birthday. Maybe it is his. 
 So you see we could n't decide just how we ought 
 to dress whether to wear our very best dove- 
 colored silks and point lace, or the black crepon 
 dresses we have had two seasons. Sister abso- 
 lutely refuses to carry her elegant fan that she 
 got in Brussels, although I want very much to 
 take mine, especially if we wear the gray dresses. 
 My second best is broken, and of course we 
 would n't want to carry a palm-leaf. There was 
 no other way but to take the second best fan
 
 174 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 down and match it. Then she had lost one of the 
 bows of ribbon that was on her gray dress, and 
 I had to match that, in case we decided to wear 
 the grays. Here I have spent the whole morn- 
 ing over my fan and her ribbon." 
 
 "Dear me!" said Jack. "Why don't you 
 carry your Brussels fan and wear your gray 
 dress, and let her wear her black dress and take 
 the kind of fan she wanted?" 
 
 "O, my child!" exclaimed Miss Caroline, 
 "Neither of us would have taken a mite of com- 
 fort so. You do n't understand how it feels 
 when there are two of you. When you have 
 spent well, a great many years, in having 
 things alike, you do n't feel comfortable unless 
 you are in pairs." 
 
 It was arranged that Jack should not go back 
 to the office that afternoon. The sisters volun- 
 teered to take him with them. 
 
 Bethany hurried through her work, but it 
 seemed to her she had never had so many inter- 
 ruptions, or so much to do. 
 
 It was after six when she closed her desk. 
 Mr. Edmunds noticed the tired look on her 
 flushed face, and said: 
 
 "Miss Hallam, my carriage is waiting down
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 175 
 
 stairs. I have to stay here some time longer to 
 meet a man who is late in keeping his engage- 
 ment. Jerry may as well take you home while 
 he is waiting." He went down on the elevator 
 with her, and handed her into the carriage. 
 
 "Better stay out in the fresh air a little be- 
 fore you start home," he said, kindly. ''It will 
 do you good." 
 
 Bethany sank back gratefully among the 
 cushions. Jerry had been her father's coach- 
 man at one time. He grinned from ear to ear 
 as she took her seat. 
 
 "We '11 take a spin along the river road," 
 she said. "Give me a glimpse of the fields and 
 the golden-rod, and then take me to Mrs. Ma- 
 rion's, on Phillips Avenue." 
 
 "Yes, miss," said Jerry, touching his hat. 
 "I know all the roads you like best!" 
 
 The impatient horses needed no urging. 
 They fairly flew down the beaten track that led 
 from the noisy, bouldered streets into the grassy 
 byways. On they went, past suburban orchards 
 and outlying pastures, to the sights and sounds 
 of the real country. 
 
 Bethany heard the slow, restful tinkle of 
 bells in a quiet lane where the cows stood softly
 
 176 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 lowing at the bars. She heard the coo of doves 
 in the distance, and the call of a quail in a brown 
 stubble-field near by. Then the wind swept up 
 from the river, now turning red in the sunset. 
 It put new life into her pulses, and a new light 
 in her eyes. The weariness was all gone. The 
 wind had blown the light, curly hair about her 
 face, and she put up her hands to smooth it back, 
 as they came in sight of Mrs. Marion's house. 
 
 "It does n't make any difference," she 
 thought. "I can run up into Cousin Ray's room 
 and put myself in order before any one sees me." 
 
 As the carriage stopped, some one stepped 
 up quickly to assist her alight. It was David 
 Herschel. 
 
 "Of all times!" she thought; "when I am 
 literally blown to pieces. How queerly things 
 do happen in this world!" 
 
 To her still greater wonderment, instead of 
 closing the gate after her and going on down 
 the street, he followed her up the steps. 
 
 "Cousin Ray said this was to be a surprise," 
 she thought. "This must be part of it." 
 
 Miss Harriet and Miss Caroline had just 
 smoothed their plumage in the guest-chamber,
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 177 
 
 and were coining down the stairs hand in hand 
 as David and Bethany entered the reception- 
 hall. 
 
 This was their first glimpse of David. They 
 had been very curious to see him. Jack had 
 talked about him -so much that they recognized 
 him instantly from his description. 
 
 Miss Caroline squeezed Miss Harriet's hand, 
 and said in a dramatic whisper, "Sister! the 
 surprise." 
 
 "Look at Bethany," remarked Miss Harriet. 
 "How unusually bright she looks, and yet a 
 little flushed and confused. I wonder if he has 
 been saying anything to her. They came in 
 together." 
 
 "Pooh!" puffed Miss Caroline. Then they 
 both moved forward with their most beaming 
 "company smile," as Jack called it, to meet Mr. 
 Herschel. 
 
 "Come in here," said Mrs. Marion, leading 
 the way into the drawing-room, while Bethany 
 made her escape up stairs. 
 
 "Mrs. Courtney, allow me to introduce Mrs. 
 Dameron." 
 
 "Sally Atwater!" fairly shrieked Miss Caro-
 
 178 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 line and Miss Harriet in chorus, as a tall, thin 
 woman, with gray hair and sharp, twinkling 
 eyes rose to meet them; "Sally Atwater, for the 
 land's sake! how did you ever happen to get 
 here?" 
 
 "It 's an old school friend of theirs," ex- 
 plained Mrs. Marion to David, as the twins stood 
 on tiptoe to grasp her around the neck and kiss 
 her repeatedly between their exclamations of 
 joyful surprise. "They have n't seen her since 
 they were married. I '11 present you, and then 
 we '11 leave them to have a good old gossip." 
 
 During the introductions in the drawing- 
 room, Mr. Marion came into the hall, with his 
 gripsack in his hand. 
 
 Why, hello, Jack!" he called cheerily. 
 "How are you, my boy? I 'in so glad to see 
 you." 
 
 He hung up his hat, and went forward to clap 
 him on the shoulder and hold the little hands 
 lovingly in his big, strong ones. While he still 
 sat on the arm of Jack's chair, there was a sud- 
 den parting of the portieres behind them, a swift 
 rustle, and two white hands met over his eyes 
 and blindfolded him. 
 
 "O! O!" cried Jack ecstatically, and then
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 179 
 
 clapped his hand over his mouth as he heard a 
 warning "Sh!" 
 
 "It 's Ra^y, of course," said Mr. Marion, 
 laughing and reaching backwards to seize who- 
 ever had blindfolded him. "Nobody else would 
 take such liberties."" 
 
 "O, would n't they?" cried a mocking voice. 
 "What about Ray's younger sister?" 
 
 He turned around, and catching her by the 
 shoulders, held her out in front of him. 
 
 "Well, Lois Denning!" he exclaimed in 
 amazement. "When did you get here, little 
 sister? I never imagined you were within two 
 hundred miles of this place." 
 
 "Neither did Ray until this morning. I 
 just walked in unannounced." 
 
 When he had given her a hearty welcome 
 she said : "O, I 'm not the only one to surprise 
 you. Just go in the other room, Brother Frank, 
 and see who all 's there, while I talk with this 
 young man I have n't seen for a year." 
 
 Lois Denning had been Jack's favorite cousin 
 since he was old enough to fasten his baby fin- 
 gers in her long, brown hair. In her yearly 
 visits to her sister she had devoted so much of 
 her time to him, and been such a willing slave,
 
 180 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 that lie looked forward to her coining even a 
 shade more eagerly than he watched for Christ- 
 mas. 
 
 There was one thing that remained longest 
 in the memory of every guest who had ever en- 
 joyed the hospitality of the Marion home. It 
 was the warm welcome that made itself contin- 
 ually felt. It met them even in the free swing 
 of the wide front door that seemed to say, "Just 
 walk right in now, and make yourself at home." 
 
 There was an atmosphere of genial comfort 
 and cheer that cast its spell on all who strayed 
 over its inviting threshold. It made them long 
 to linger, and loath to leave. 
 
 David Herschel was quick to appreciate the 
 warm cordiality of his greeting. He had not 
 been jn the house five minutes until he felt him- 
 self on the familiar footing of an old friend. At 
 first he wondered at the strange assortment of 
 guests, and thought it queer he had been asked 
 to meet the elderly twins and their old friend, 
 who were so absorbed in each other. 
 
 Then Mrs. Marion brought in her sister, Lois 
 Denning a slim, graceful girl in a white duck 
 suit, with a red carnation in the lapel of the 
 jaunty jacket. She was a lively, outspoken girl,
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 181 
 
 decided in her opinions, and original in her 
 remarks. 
 
 ''That red carnation just suits her," said 
 David to himself, as they talked together. "She 
 is so bright and spicy." 
 
 "Isn't it time for dinner, Ray?" asked Mr. 
 Marion, anxiously. "It 's getting dark, and I 'm 
 as hungry as a schoolboy." 
 
 "Yes, and your guests will think you are as 
 impatient as one," she answered, laughingly. 
 "We must wait a few minutes longer. Mr. 
 Cragmore has n't come yet." 
 
 "Cragmore!" cried Mr. Marion, starting to 
 his feet. 
 
 "O dear," exclaimed his wife, "I did n't in- 
 tend to tell you he was coming. I knew you 
 had n't seen the report from Conference yet, and 
 I wanted to surprise you. He has been sent to 
 the Clark Street Church. I met him coming 
 up from the depot this morning, and asked him 
 to dine with us to-night." 
 
 "!Now I do wish I were a school-boy!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Marion, "so that I might give vent 
 to my delight as I used to." 
 
 "I remember how loud you could whoop 
 when you were two feet six," remarked Mrs.
 
 182 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Dameron. "I should not care to risk hearing 
 you, now that you are six feet two." 
 
 There was a quick ring at the front door, 
 and the next instant Frank Marion and George 
 Cragmore were shaking hands as though they 
 could never stop. 
 
 "I 'm going to see if they fall on each other's 
 necks and weep a la Joseph and his brethren," 
 said Lois, tiptoeing towards the hall. "I 've 
 heard so much about George Cragmore, that I 
 feel that I am about to be presented to a whole 
 circus menagerie and all." 
 
 "And how are ye, Mistress Marion?" they 
 heard his musical voice say. 
 
 "Will ye moind that now," commented Lois 
 in an undertone. "How 's that for a touch of 
 the rale auld brogue?" 
 
 He was introduced to the old ladies first, 
 then to the saucy Lois and Jack. Then he 
 caught sight of Herschel. They met with mu- 
 tual pleasure, and were about cordially to renew 
 their acquaintance, begun that day on the car, 
 when Cragmore glanced across the room and saw 
 Bethany. 
 
 Both Lois and David noticed the way his
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 183 
 
 face lighted up, and the eagerness with which he 
 went forward to speak to her. 
 
 That evening was the beginning of several 
 things. The Hebrew class was organized. Mr. 
 Marion had found only two of his teachers will- 
 ing to undertake the work, but Lois cheerfully 
 allowed herself to be substituted for the third 
 one he had been so sure would join them. 
 
 "I '11 not be here more than long enough to 
 get a good start," she said, "but I 'm in for any- 
 thing that 's going Hebrew or Hopscotch, 
 whichever it happens to be." 
 
 The twins declined to take any part. "I 
 know it is beyond us," sighed Miss Harriet. 
 "The Latin conjugations were always such a 
 terror to me, and sister never did get her bear- 
 ings in the German genders." 
 
 When it came time for the merry party to 
 break up, Frank Marion would not listen to any 
 good-nights from Cragmore. 
 
 "You 're not going away. That 's the end 
 of it," he declared. "I '11 walk down with you 
 to the hotel, and have your trunk sent up. 
 You 're to stay here until you get a boarding 
 place to suit you. I would n't let you go then,
 
 184 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 if I did not know it was essential for you to live 
 nearer your congregation." 
 
 Mr. Marion walked on ahead, pushing Jack's 
 chair, with Miss Caroline on one side, and Miss 
 Harriet o'n the other. 
 
 Bethany followed with George Cragmore. 
 There was a brilliant moonlight, and they 
 walked slowly, enjoying to the utmost the rare 
 beauty of the night. 
 
 "Come in a moment, George," called Mr. 
 Marion, as he wheeled Jack up the steps. "I 
 want to finish spinning this yarn." 
 
 They all went into the hall. 
 
 Bethany opened the door into the library 
 and struck a match. Cragmore took it from her 
 and lighted' the gas. 
 
 But Mr. Marion still stood in the hall with 
 his attentive audience of three. 
 
 "I '11 be through in a moment," he called. 
 The sisters dropped down in a large double 
 rocker. 
 
 "You might as well sit down, too, Mr. Crag- 
 more," said Bethany. "His minute may prove 
 to be elastic." 
 
 Cragmore looked around the homelike old 
 room, and then down at the fair-haired woman
 
 THE DEACONESS'S STORY. 185 
 
 at his side. "Not to-night, thank you," he re- 
 sponded; "but I should like to come some other 
 time. Yes, I think I should like to come here 
 very often, Miss Hallam." 
 
 The admiration in his eyes, and the tone, 
 made the remark so very personal that Bethany 
 was slightly annoyed. 
 
 "O, our latch-string is always out to the 
 clergy," she said lightly, and then led the way 
 back to the hall to join the others.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "YOM KIPPUR." 
 
 HE morning after the first meeting 
 of the Hebrew class at Rabbi Bar- 
 thold's, Frank Marion came into the 
 office. 
 
 "Herschel," he said, "when do you have 
 your Day of Atonement services? Is it this week 
 or next? Rabbi Barthold invited us to attend, 
 but I am not sure about the date. He is going 
 to preach a series of sermons that are to set forth 
 the views now held by the Reform school, and 
 Cragmore and I are anxious to hear them." 
 
 "It is the week after this," said David, con- 
 sulting the calendar. 
 
 "Then I can arrange to get in from my trip 
 in time for the Friday night service." 
 
 "What do you think of Rabbi Barthold?" 
 asked David. "Is n't he a magnificent old 
 fellow?" 
 
 Marion stroked his mustache thoughtfully. 
 186
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 187 
 
 "Well," he said after some deliberation, "I 
 hardly know where to place him. He does n't 
 belong to this age. If I believed in the trans- 
 migration of souls, I should say that some old 
 Levite, whose life-work had been to keep the 
 Temple lamps perpetually burning, had strayed 
 back to earth again. 
 
 "That seems to be his mission now. He is 
 trying to rekindle the pride and zeal and hope 
 of an ancient day. Excuse me for saying it, 
 Herschel, but there are few in his congregation 
 who understand him. Their vision is so ob- 
 scured by this dense fog of modern indifference 
 that they fail to appreciate his aims. They are 
 still in the outer courts, among the tables of the 
 money-changers, and those who sell doves. 
 They have never entered the inner sanctuary 
 of a spiritual life. Their religion stops with the 
 altar and the censer the material things. Un- 
 derstand me," he said hastily, as David inter- 
 rupted him, "I know there are a number you 
 have in mind, who are loyally true to the spirit 
 of Judaism, but they are few and far between. 
 I am not speaking of them, but of the great 
 mass of the congregation. I believe the serv-
 
 188 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 ices of the synagogue, and their religion itself, 
 is only a form observed from a cold sense of 
 duty, merely to avert the evil decree." 
 
 David drew himself up rather stiffly. 
 
 "And you are the disciple of the man who 
 said, 'Let him that is without sin among you 
 cast the first stone!' What do you suppose the 
 Jew has to say about the dead-heads in your 
 Churches? What proportion of your member- 
 ship has passed beyond the tables of the money- 
 changers? How many in your pews, who mum- 
 ble the creed and wear the label 'Christian,' will 
 be able at the passages of God's Jordan to meet 
 the challenge of his Shibboleth?" 
 
 Marion laid his hand on David's shoulder. 
 "You misunderstand me, my boy," he said. "I 
 have no harsher denunciation for the indifferent 
 Jew than for the indifferent Christian. God 
 pity them both! I was simply drawing a con- 
 trast between Rabbi Barthold and his people, 
 as it appears to me a shepherd who longs to 
 lead his flock up to the source of all living water; 
 but they prefer to dispense with climbing the 
 spiritual heights, jostle each other for the richest 
 herbage of the lowlands, and are satisfied. You 
 know that is so, David."
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 189 
 
 "Yes," admitted David, with a sigh. "He 
 can not even arouse them to the necessity of 
 teaching their children Hebrew, if they would 
 perpetuate loyalty to its traditions." 
 
 David was about to repeat what the Rabbi 
 had said the night he consented to take the 
 Hebrew class, but his pride checked him: 
 "What are we coming to, my son? Protestant- 
 ism is having a wonderful awakening in regard 
 to the study of the Bible. Never has there been 
 such a widespread interest in it as now. But 
 among our people, how many of the younger 
 generation make it a text-book of daily study? 
 Such negligence will surely write its 'Ichabod' 
 upon the future of our beloved Israel." 
 
 "What a discussion we have drifted into!" 
 exclaimed Mr. Marion. "I had only intended 
 dropping in here to ask you a simple question. 
 Come to think, T believe I have not answered 
 yours. You asked me my opinion of Rabbi 
 Barthold. Well, I think he is a sincere, noble 
 soul, a true seeker of the truth, and a man whose 
 friendship I would value very highly." 
 
 Herschel looked much pleased. 
 
 "I hope you may be able to hear him on 
 'Yom Kippur,' " he said.
 
 190 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I shall certainly try to be there," Marion 
 answered. 
 
 As his footsteps died away in the hall, David 
 said to himself: "If every Gentile were like that 
 man, and every Jew like Uncle Ezra, what an 
 ideal state of society there would be! But then," 
 he added as an after-thought, "what would be- 
 come of the lawyers? We would starve." 
 
 In the waning light of the afternoon, that 
 Day of the Atonement, there was no more de- 
 vout worshiper in all the temple than George 
 Cragmore. He had just finished reading a book 
 of M. Leroy Beaulieu's, "Israel Among the 
 Nations," and as he turned the leaves of the 
 prayer-book some one handed him, he was im- 
 pressed with the truth of this sentence which 
 recurred to him: 
 
 "The Hebrew genius was confined to a nar- 
 row bed between two rocky walls, whence only 
 the sky could be seen; but it channeled there a 
 well so deep that the ages have not dried it up, 
 and the nations of the four corners of the earth 
 have come to slake their thirst at its waters." 
 
 It seemed to him that all that was purest,
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 191 
 
 most heart-searching and sublime in the Old 
 Covenant; all that time has proven most pre- 
 cious and comforting of its promises; all therein 
 that best satisfies the human yearnings toward 
 the Infinite, and gives wings to the God-instinct 
 in man, might be-found somewhere in the ex- 
 quisite mosaic of this day's ritual. 
 
 Marion, concentrating his attention chiefly 
 on the sermons, admired their scholarly style, 
 and indorsed most of their substance, but he 
 came away with a feeling of sadness. 
 
 It seemed so pitiful to him to see these peo- 
 ple with their backs turned on the sacrifice a 
 divine love had already provided, trying to make 
 their own empty-handed atonement, simply by 
 their penitent pleadings and good deeds. 
 
 Herschel's devotions were interfered with 
 by a spirit of criticism heretofore unknown to 
 him. His thoughts were so full of doubts that 
 had been having an almost imperceptible 
 growth that he could not enter into the service 
 with his usual abandon. He was continually 
 contrasting those around him with that never-to- 
 be-forgotten gathering on Lookout, and the con- 
 gregation in the tent.
 
 192 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 What made them to differ? He could not 
 tell, but he felt that something was lacking here 
 that had made the other such a force. 
 
 Cragmore had not been able to attend the 
 Friday night service, nor the one on the follow- 
 ing morning. He came in just after the noon 
 recess, and was ushered to a pew near the center 
 of the room, where he immediately became ab- 
 sorbed in the ritual. He followed devoutly 
 through the meditations and the silent devotions, 
 and when they came to the responsive readings, 
 his voice joined in as earnestly as any son of 
 Abraham there. 
 
 The synagogue, with its modern trappings 
 and fashionably-dressed congregation, seemed to 
 disappear. He saw the old Temple take its place, 
 with its solemn ceremonials of scapegoat and 
 burnt-offering. Through the chanting of the 
 choir in the gallery back of him he heard the 
 thousand-voiced song of the Levites. He seemed 
 to see the clouds of incense, and the smoke aris- 
 ing from the high brazen altar. He bowed his 
 head on the seat in front of him. His whole 
 soul seemed to go out in reverent adoration to 
 this great Jehovah, worshiped by both Hebrew 
 and Christian.
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 193 
 
 The memorial service to the dead followed 
 the sermon. 
 
 Cragmore's music-loving nature responded 
 like a quivering harp-string as the choir began 
 a minor chant: 
 
 " Oh what is man, the child of dust? 
 What is mail, O Lord ?" 
 
 The low, moaning tones of the great organ 
 rose and fell like the beat of a far-off tide, as all 
 heads bowed in silent devotion, recalling in that 
 moment the lives that had passed out into the 
 great beyond. 
 
 Cragmore whispered a fervent prayer of 
 thankfulness for the unbroken family circle 
 across the wide Atlantic. 
 
 As he did so, a breath of blossoming haw- 
 thorn hedges, a faint chiming of the Shandon 
 bells, and the blue mists of the Kerry hills 
 seemed to mingle a moment with his prayer. 
 
 The sun had set, when in the concluding 
 service his eyes fell on the words the Rabbi was 
 reading The Mission of Israel "It 's a pity," 
 he thought, "that every mentally cross-eyed 
 Christian, who, between ignorance and bigotry, 
 can get only a distorted impression of the Jews, 
 13
 
 194 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 could n't have heard this service to-day, espe- 
 cially that prayer for all mankind, and this one 
 he is reading now: 
 
 " 'This twilight hour reminds us also of the 
 eventide, when, according to Thy gracious 
 promise, Thy light will arise over all the children 
 of men, and Israel's spiritual descendants will 
 be as numerous as the stars in the heaven. En- 
 dow us, our Guardian, with strength and pa- 
 tience for our holy mission. Grant that all the 
 children of Thy people may recognize the goal 
 of our changeful career, so that they may ex- 
 emplify, by their zeal and love for mankind, the 
 truth of Israel's watchword: One humanity on 
 earth, even as there is but one God in heaven. 
 Enlighten all that call themselves by Thy name 
 with the knowledge that the sanctuary of wood 
 and stone, that erst crowned Zion's hill, was but 
 a gate, through which Israel should step out into 
 the world, to reconcile all mankind unto Thee! 
 Thou alone knowest when this work of atone- 
 ment shall be completed; when the day shall 
 dawn in which the light of Thy truth, brighter 
 than that of the visible sun, shall encircle the 
 whole earth. But surely that great day of 
 universal reconciliation, so fervently prayed for,
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 195 
 
 shall come, as surely as none of Thy words re- 
 turn empty, unless they have done that for 
 which Thou didst send them. Then joy shall 
 thrill all hearts, and from one end of the earth 
 to the other shall echo the gladsome cry: Hear, 
 O Israel, hear all mankind, the Eternal our God, 
 the Eternal is One. Then myriads will make 
 pilgrimage to Thy house, which shall be called 
 a house of prayer for all nations, and from their 
 lips shall sound in spiritual joy: Lord, open for 
 us the gates of thy truth. Lift up your heads, 
 O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting 
 doors, for the King of glory shall come in.' ' 
 
 And the choir chanting, replied: 
 
 "Who is the King of glory? The Lord of 
 hosts He is the King of glory." 
 
 There was a short prayer, then a benediction 
 that made Cragmore and Marion look across the 
 congregation at each other and smile. It was 
 the Epworth benediction, with which the League 
 was always dismissed : 
 
 "May the Lord bless thee, and keep thee. 
 May the Lord let his countenance shine upon 
 thee, and be gracious unto thee! The Lord lift 
 up his countenance upon thee, and give thee 
 peace."
 
 196 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The two men met each other at the door, 
 and walked homeward together through the 
 twilight. 
 
 Cragmore had found a boarding place. It 
 was not far from the temple. 
 
 "Come up to my room," he said to Marion. 
 "I see you still have Herschel's prayer-book with 
 you. I want to compare the mission of Israel 
 as given there with the one I was reading to-day 
 of Leroy-Beaulieu's. I have never known before 
 to-day what special hope they clung to. Come 
 in and I will find the paragraph." 
 
 He lighted the gas in his room, pushed a 
 chair over towards his guest, and, seating him- 
 self, began rapidly turning the leaves of the 
 book. 
 
 "Here it is," he said, and he read as follows: 
 
 "Then at last Jewish faith, freed from all 
 tribal spirit and purified of all national dross, 
 will become the law of humanity. The world 
 that jeered at the long suffering of Israel, will 
 witness the fulfillment of prophecies delayed for 
 twenty centuries by the blindness of the scribes, 
 and the stubbornness of the rabbis. According 
 to the words of the prophets, the nations will 
 come to learn of Israel, and the people will hang
 
 YOM KIPPUR. 197 
 
 to the skirts of her garments, crying, 'Let us go 
 up together to the mountain of Jehovah, to the 
 house of the Lord of Israel, that he may teach 
 us to walk in his ways.' The true spiritual re- 
 ligion, for which the world has been sighing 
 since Luther and Voltaire, will be imparted to 
 it through Israel. To accomplish this, Israel 
 needs but to discard her old practices, as in 
 spring the oak shakes off the dead leaves of 
 winter. The divine trust, the legacy of her 
 prophets, which has been preserved intact be- 
 neath her heavy ritual, will be transmitted to the 
 Gentiles by an Israel emancipated from all en- 
 slavement to form. Then only, after having 
 infused the spirit of the Thora into the souls of 
 all men, will Israel, her mission accomplished, 
 be able to merge herself in the nations." 
 
 "See what a hopeless hope," said Cragmore, 
 as he closed the book. "And yet do you know, 
 Frank, I am becoming more and more sure that 
 Israel has some great part to play in the conver- 
 sion of humanity? Any one must see that noth- 
 ing short of Divine power could have kept them 
 intact as a race, and Divine power is never aim- 
 lessly exerted. There must be some great reason 
 for such a miraculous preservation. AVhat mis-
 
 198 IN lyEAGUE WITH 
 
 sionari'es of the cross these people would make! 
 What torch-bearers they have been ! They have 
 carried the altar-fires of Jehovah to every alien 
 shore they have touched." 
 
 Cragmore stood up in his earnestness, his 
 eyes alight with something akin to prophetic 
 fire. 
 
 "The old thorny stem of Judaism shall yet 
 bud and blossom into the perfect flower of 
 Christianity!" he cried. "And when it does, O 
 when it does, the 'chosen people' will become 
 a veritable tree of life, whose leaves will be 'for 
 the healing of the nations.' '
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 DR. TRENT. 
 
 * 
 
 T was a cold, bleak night in Novem- 
 ber. There was a blazing wood-fire 
 on the library hearth. Bethany sat 
 in a low chair in front of it, with a 
 large, flat book in her lap, which she was using 
 as a desk for her long-neglected letter-writing. 
 An appetizing smell of pop-corn and boiling 
 molasses found its way in from the cozy kitchen, 
 where the sisters were treating Jack to an old- 
 fashioned candy-pulling. The occasional gusts 
 that rattled the windows made Bethany draw 
 closer to the fire, with a grateful sense of warmth 
 and comfort. She thoroughly appreciated her 
 luxurious surroundings, and was glad she had 
 the long, quiet evening ahead of her. 
 
 For half an hour the steady trail of her pen 
 along the paper, and the singing of the kettle 
 on the crane, was all that was audible. 
 
 Then Jack came wheeling himself in, with 
 a radiant, sticky face, and a plate of candy. 
 
 199
 
 200 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "O, we 're having such lots of fun !" he cried. 
 "We 're going to make some chocolate creams 
 now. Do come and help, sister?" 
 
 She pointed to the pile of unanswered letters 
 on the table. "I must get these out of the way 
 first," she said. "Then I '11 join you." 
 
 "I guess you can eat and write at the same 
 time," he answered, holding out the plate. 
 
 He waited only long enough for her to taste 
 his wares, and hurried back to the kitchen to 
 report her opinion of their skill as confectioners. 
 
 Just as the dining-room door banged behind 
 him, she thought she heard some one coming up 
 on the front porch with slow, uncertain steps. 
 She paused in the act of dipping her pen into the 
 ink, and listened. Some one certainly tried the 
 bell, but it did not ring. Then the outside door 
 opened and shut. She started up slightly 
 alarmed, and half way across the room stopped 
 again to listen. There was a momentary rust- 
 ling in the hall. She heard something drop on 
 the hat-rack. Then there was a low knock at 
 the library door. She opened it a little way, and 
 saw Dr. Trent standing there. 
 
 "O, Uncle Doctor!" she cried, throwing the
 
 DR. TRENT. 201 
 
 door wide open. "I never once thought of its 
 being you. I took you for a burglar." 
 
 Then she stopped, seeing the worn, haggard 
 look on his face. He seemed to have grown ten 
 years older since the last time she had seen him. 
 Without noticing her proffered hand, he 
 pushed slowly past her, and stood shivering be- 
 fore the fire. He had taken off his overcoat in 
 the hall. He was bent and careworn, as if some 
 unusual weight had been laid upon his patient 
 shoulders, already bowed to the limit of their 
 strength. 
 
 Bethany knew from his firmly set lips and 
 stern face that he was in sore need of comfort. 
 
 "What is it, Uncle Doctor?" she asked, fol- 
 lowing him to the fire, and laying her hand 
 lightly on his trembling arm. She felt that 
 something dreadful must have happened to un- 
 nerve him so. "What can I do for you?" she 
 asked with a tremble of distress in her voice. 
 
 He dropped into a chair and covered his face 
 with his hands. When he raised his head his 
 eyes were blurred, and he had that helpless, 
 childish look that comes with premature age. 
 
 "I have been with Isabel all day," he said, 
 huskily.
 
 202 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Although Bethany had never heard Mrs. 
 Trent's given name before, she knew that he 
 was speaking of his wife. 
 
 There was a long pause, which she finally 
 broke by saying, "Do n't you see her every day ? 
 I thought you were in the habit of going out to 
 her that often." 
 
 "O, I have gone there," he answered wearily, 
 "day after day, and day after day, all these long 
 years; but I have never seen Isabel. It has only 
 been a poor, mad creature, who never recognized 
 me. She was always calling for me. The way 
 she used to rave, and pray to be sent back to her 
 husband, would have touched a heart of flint; 
 yet she never knew me when I came. She would 
 grow quiet when I put my arm around her, but 
 she would sit and stare at me in a dumb, con- 
 fused way that was pitiful. I always hoped that 
 some day she might recognize me. I would sing 
 her old songs to her, and talk about our old 
 home, although the thought of its shattered 
 happiness broke my heart. I tried in every way 
 to bring her to herself. She would listen awhile, 
 and look up at me with a recognition almost 
 dawning in her eyes. Then the tears would 
 begin to roll down her cheeks, and she would beg
 
 DR. TRENT. 203 
 
 me to go and find her husband. Yesterday she 
 knew me!" His voice broke. "She came back 
 to me for the first time in eight years, my own 
 little Isabel! I knew it was only because the 
 frail body was worn out with its terrible strug- 
 gle, and I could not keep her long. O, such a 
 day as this has been! I have held her in my 
 arms every moment, with her poor, tired head 
 against my heart. She was so glad and happy 
 to find herself with me at last, but the happiness 
 was over so soon." 
 
 He buried his face in his hands as before, 
 with a groan. When he spoke again, it was in 
 a dull, mechanical way. 
 
 "She died at sundown!" 
 
 The tears were running down Bethany's face. 
 She had been standing behind his chair. Now 
 she bent over him, lightly passing her hand over 
 his gray hair, with a comforting caress. 
 
 "If I could only do something," she ex- 
 claimed, in a voice tremulous with sympathy. 
 
 "You can," he answered. "That is why I 
 came. None of her relatives are living. Only 
 my most intimate friends know that she did not 
 die eight years ago, when she was taken away 
 to a sanitarium. I want " he stopped with a
 
 204 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 choking in his throat. "The attendants have 
 been very kind, but I want some woman of her 
 own station some woman who would have been 
 her friend to put flowers about her and-- 
 smooth her hair, as she would have wanted it 
 done and and see that everything is all 
 fine and beautiful when she is dressed for her last 
 sleep." 
 
 He tried to keep his voice steady as he talked ; 
 but his face was working pitifully, and the tears 
 were rolling down his face. 
 
 "She would have wished it so. She knew 
 Richard Hallam. He was my best friend. I 
 do not know any one I could ask to do this 
 for my little Isabel, but Richard Hallam's 
 daughter." 
 
 She leaned over and touched his forehead 
 with her lips. 
 
 "Then let her have a daughter's place in 
 helping you bear this," she said. "Let her serve 
 her father's dear, old friend as she would have 
 served that father." 
 
 He reached up and mutely took her hand, 
 resting his face against it a moment, as if the 
 touch of its sympathy strengthened him. Then
 
 DR. TRENT. 205 
 
 he rose, saying, "I shall send for you in the 
 morning." 
 
 "O, are you going home so soon?" she ex- 
 claimed. "You have hardly been here long 
 enough to get thoroughly warm." 
 
 "No, not hoihe, but back to Isabel. It will 
 be only a few hours longer that I can sit beside 
 her. I have staid away now longer than I 
 intended, but I had to come in town to see that 
 Lee was all right." 
 
 "O, does he know?" asked Bethany. 
 
 "No, he was only two years old when they 
 were separated. She has always been dead to 
 him. Poor, little fellow! Why should I shadow 
 his life with such a grief?" 
 
 Bethany helped him on with his overcoat, 
 turned up the collar, and buttoned it securely. 
 Then she gave him his gloves; but instead of 
 putting them on, he stood snapping the clasps 
 in an absent-minded way. 
 
 "I suppose Richard told you about that debt 
 I have been wrestling with so long," he said, 
 finally. "I got that all paid off last week, the 
 last wretched cent. And now that Isabel is gone, 
 I seem to have lost all my old vigor and ambition.
 
 206 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 If it were not for Lee, it would be so good to stop, 
 and not try to take another step. I should like 
 to lie down and go to sleep, too." 
 
 He opened the door. A raw, cold wind, 
 laden with snow, rushed in. 
 
 Bethany watched him out of sight, then went 
 shivering back to the fire. 
 
 A deep snowstorm kept Jack at home next 
 day, so no one questioned, or no one knew why 
 Bethany was excused from the office during the 
 morning. 
 
 She carried out Dr. Trent's wishes faithfully. 
 She stood beside him in the dreary cemetery 
 till the white snow was laid back over the newly- 
 made mound. Then she rode silently back to 
 town with him. He sat with his hands over his 
 eyes all the way, never speaking until the car- 
 riage stopped at the office, and the driver opened 
 the door for Bethany to alight. 
 
 Next day she saw him drive past on his usual 
 round of professional visits. No one else noticed 
 any difference in him, except that he seemed a 
 little graver, and, if possible, more tender and 
 thoughtful in his ministrations, than he had been 
 before. 
 
 To Bethany there was something very pa-
 
 DR. TRENT. 207 
 
 thetic in the sudden aging of this man, who had 
 borne his burden so silently and bravely that 
 few had ever suspected he had one. 
 
 He was making a stern effort to keep on in 
 the same old way. His profession had brought 
 him in contact with so much of the world's sor- 
 row and suffering that he would not lay even the 
 shadow of his burden on other lives, if he could 
 help it. 
 
 Only Bethany noticed that his hair was fast 
 growing white, that he stooped more, and that 
 he climbed slowly and heavily into the buggy, 
 instead of springing in as he used to, with a 
 quick, elastic step. She ministered to his com- 
 fort in all the little ways in her power, but it was 
 not much that any one could do. 
 
 It must have been nearly two weeks before 
 he came again to the house. This time it was 
 to examine Jack. 
 
 "What would you say, my son," he asked, 
 "if I should tell you I do not want you to go to 
 the office any more after this week?" 
 
 Jack's face was a study. The tears came to 
 his eyes. "Why?" he asked. 
 
 "Because you will be strong enough then to 
 go through a certain exercise I want you to take
 
 208 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 many times during the day. If you keep it up 
 faithfully, I believe you will be walking by 
 Christmas." 
 
 This was so much sooner than either Jack or 
 Bethany had dared hope, that they hardly knew 
 how to express their joy. Jack gave a loud 
 whoop, and went wheeling out of the room at 
 the top of his speed to tell Miss Caroline and 
 Miss Harriet. 
 
 Dr. Trent looked after him with a fatherly 
 tenderness in his face. Then he sighed and 
 turned to Bethany. "I have another trouble 
 to bring to you, my dear. Lee has been getting 
 into so much mischief lately. I never knew till 
 yesterday that he has not been attending school 
 regularly this term. You see every allowance 
 ought to be made for the child no home but a 
 boarding-house; no one to take an oversight 
 for I am called out night and day. He is such 
 a bright boy, so full of life and spirit. I am sat- 
 isfied that his teachers do not understand him. 
 They have not been fair with him. He has been 
 transferred from one ward to another, and finally 
 expelled. He never told me until last night. 
 He said he knew it would grieve me, and that he 
 put it off from day to day, because he did not
 
 DR. TRENT. 209 
 
 want to trouble me when I was so worried over 
 several critical cases. That -showed a sweet 
 spirit, Bethany. I appreciated it. He has always 
 been such an affectionate little chap. I wanted 
 to go and interview the superintendent; but he 
 insisted it would do no good, because they are 
 all prejudiced against him. I know Lee is a 
 good child. They ought not to expect a growing 
 boy, full of the animal spirits the Creator has 
 endowed him with, to always work like a prim 
 little machine. Maybe 1 am not acting wisely, 
 but he begged so hard to be allowed to go to work 
 for awhile, instead of being sent to any other 
 school, that I gave my consent. It is little a ten- 
 year old boy can do, but he has a taking way 
 with him, and he got a place himself. He is to 
 be elevator-boy in the same building where your 
 office is. You will see him every day, and I am 
 giving you the true state of affairs, so you will 
 not misjudge the child. I hope you will look 
 out a little for him, Bethany." 
 
 "You may be sure I shall do that," she prom- 
 ised. "We are already great friends. He used 
 to often join us on his way to school, and wheel 
 Jack part of the distance." 
 
 Jack made as much as possible of the remain- 
 14
 
 210 IN LEAGUE; WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 ing time that lie was allowed to go to the office. 
 He studied no lessons but the short Hebrew 
 exercises David still gave him. He called at all 
 the different offices where he had made friends, 
 and spent a great deal of time in the hall, talk- 
 ing to Lee, who was soon installed in the build- 
 ing as elevator-boy. 
 
 "My! but Lee has been fooling his father," 
 exclaimed Jack to Bethany after his first inter- 
 view. "Dr. Trent thinks he is such a little angel, 
 but you ought to hear the things he brags about 
 doing. He 's tough, I can tell you. He smokes 
 cigarettes, and swears like a trooper. He showed 
 me an old horse-pistol he won at a game of 'seven 
 up/ He shoots 'craps,' too. He has been play- 
 ing hooky half his time. One of the hostlers 
 at the livery-stable, where his father keeps his 
 horse, used to write his excuses for him. Lee paid 
 him for it with tobacco he stole out of one of the 
 warehouses down by the river. You just ought 
 to see the book he carries around in his pocket 
 to read when he is n't busy. It 's called 'The 
 Pirate's Revenge; or, A Murderer's Romance.' 
 There is the awfulest pictures in it of people 
 being stabbed, and women cutting their throats. 
 I told him he showed mighty poor taste in the
 
 DR. TRENT. 211 
 
 stuff he read; and asked him how he would like 
 to be found dead with such a thing in his pocket. 
 He told me to shut up preaching, and said the 
 reason he has gone to work is to save up money 
 so 's he could go to Chicago or ISTew York, or 
 some big place, and have a 'howling good time.' ' 
 
 It made Bethany sick at heart to think of the 
 deception the boy had practiced on his father. 
 Much as she trusted Jack, she could not bear to 
 encourage any intimacy between the boys, and 
 was glad when the time came for him to stay 
 at home from the office. But in every way she 
 could she strengthened her friendship with Lee. 
 She brought him great, rosy apples, and pop-corn 
 balls that Jack had made. No ten-year-old boy 
 could be proof against the long twists of home- 
 made candy she frequently slipped into his 
 pocket. Sometimes when the Aveather was es- 
 pecially stormy and bleak outside, she stopped 
 to put a bunch of violets or a little red rose in 
 his button-hole. She was so pretty and graceful 
 that she awakened the dormant chivalry within 
 him, and he would not for worlds have had her 
 suspect that he was not all his father believed 
 him to be. 
 
 One day she told David enough of his his-
 
 212 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 tory to enlist his sympathy. After that the 
 young lawyer began to take considerable notice 
 of him, and finally won his complete friendship 
 by the gift of a little brown puppy, that he 
 brought down one morning in his overcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 There was no more time to read "The Pirate's 
 Revenge." The helpless, sprawling 'little pup 
 demanded all his attention. He kept it swung 
 up in a basket in the elevator, when he was busy, 
 but spent every spare moment trying to develop 
 its limited intelligence by teaching it tricks. 
 That was one occupation of which he never 
 wearied, and in which he never lost patience. 
 From the moment he took the soft, warm, little 
 thing in his arms, he loved it dearly. 
 
 "I shall call him Taffy," he said, hugging it 
 up to him, "because he 's so sweet and brown." 
 
 Bethany had intended for Dr. Trent and Lee 
 to dine with them on Thanksgiving day, but the 
 sisters were invited to Mrs. Dameron's, and Mrs. 
 Marion was so urgent for her and Jack to spend 
 the day with them, that she reluctantly gave up 
 her plan. 
 
 "I shall certainly have them Christmas," she
 
 DR. TRENT. 213 
 
 promised herself, "and a big tree for Lee and 
 Jack. Lois will help me with it." 
 
 It was a genuine Thanksgiving-day, with 
 gray skies, and snow, to intensify the indoor 
 cheer. 
 
 "Did n't the altar look beautiful this morn- 
 ing with its decorations of fruit and vegetables, 
 and those sheaves of wheat?" remarked Miss 
 Harriet. She had just come home from Mrs. 
 Dameron's, and was holding her big mink muff 
 in front of the fire to dry. She had dropped it 
 in the snow. 
 
 "Yes, and wasn't that salad-dressing fine?" 
 chimed in Miss Caroline. "Sally always did 
 have a real talent for such things." 
 
 "It could n't have been any better than we 
 had," insisted Jack. "I do n't believe I '11 want 
 anything more to eat for a week." 
 
 "That 's very fortunate," answered Miss 
 Caroline, "for I gave Mena an entire holiday. 
 We '11 only have a cup of tea, and I can make 
 that in here." 
 
 They sat around the fire in the gloaming, 
 quietly talking over the happy day. One of 
 Bethany's greatest causes for thanksgiving was
 
 214 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 that these two gentle lives had come in contact 
 with her own. Their simple piety and childlike 
 faith sweetened the atmosphere around them, 
 like the modest, old-fashioned garden-flowers 
 they loved so dearly. Well for Bethany that she 
 had the constant companionship of these loving 
 sisters. Happy for Jack that he found in them 
 the gracious grandmotherly tenderness, with- 
 out which no home is complete. They were very 
 proud of their boy, as they called him. Between 
 the Junior League and their conscientious in- 
 struction, Jack was pretty firmly "rooted and 
 grounded" in the faith of his fathers. Night 
 stole on so gradually, and the firelight filled- the 
 room with such a cheerful glow, they did not 
 notice how dark it had grown outside, until a 
 sudden peal of the door-bell startled them. 
 
 "I '11 go," said Miss Caroline, adjusting the 
 spectacles that had slipped down when the sud- 
 den sound made her start nervously up from her 
 chair. She waited to light the gas, and hastily 
 arrange the disordered chairs. 
 
 When she opened the door she saw David 
 Herschel patiently awaiting admittance. It 
 was the first time he had ever called. She was
 
 DR. TRENT. 215 
 
 all in a flutter of surprise as she ushered him 
 into the library. He declined to take a seat. 
 
 "I have just come home from Dr. Trent's," 
 he said. "You know he boards across the street 
 from Rabbi Barthold's, where I have been 
 spending the day. He was called out to see a 
 patient last night, and came home late, with a 
 hard chill. Lee saw me coming out of the gate 
 a little while ago, and came running over to tell 
 me. He had been out skating all morning. 
 After dinner, when he went up-stairs, he found 
 his father delirious, and had telephoned for Dr. 
 Mills. He was very much frightened, and 
 wanted me to stay with him until the doctor 
 came. As soon as Dr. Mills examined him, he 
 called me aside and asked me to get into his 
 buggy and drive out to the Deaconess Home. I 
 have just come from there," he said, "and Miss 
 Carleton has no case on hands. Tell her if 
 ever she was needed in her life, she is needed 
 now. He has pneumonia, and it has been neg- 
 lected too long, I 'm afraid. It may be a matter 
 of only a few hours." 
 
 Bethany started up, looking so white and 
 alarmed that David thought she was going to 
 faint. He arose, too.
 
 216 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I must go over there at once," she said. 
 
 "It is quite dark," answered David. "I am 
 at your service, if you want me to wait for you." 
 
 "O, I shall not keep you waiting a moment," 
 she answered. "Jack, I '11 be back in time to 
 help you to bed." 
 
 As she spoke she began putting on her wraps, 
 which were still lying on the chair, where she 
 had thrown them off on coming in, a little while 
 before. 
 
 David offered his arm as they went down the 
 icy steps. 
 
 "It was so good of you to come at once," she 
 said, as she accepted his assistance. "Is Miss 
 Carleton there now?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "she was ready almost 
 instantly. She is the same nurse that I met early 
 one morning in that laundry office. She told 
 me on the way back that Dr. Trent has done so 
 much for the Home and for the poor. She says 
 she owes her own life to his skill and care, and 
 that no service she could render him would be 
 great enough to express her gratitude. They 
 all feel that way about him at the Home." 
 
 Belle Cartleton met them at the bedroom 
 door. "Dr. Trent has just spoken about you,"
 
 DR. TRENT. 217 
 
 she said in a low tone to Bethany. "He has had 
 several lucid intervals. Take off your hat before 
 you go to him." 
 
 Lee sat curled up in a big chair in a dark 
 corner of the room, with Taffy hugged tight in 
 his arms. An undefinable dread had taken pos- 
 session of him. He looked up at Bethany, with 
 a frightened, tearful expression, as she patted 
 him on the cheek in passing. 
 
 Dr. Trent opened his eyes when she sat down 
 beside him, and took his hand. He smiled 
 brightly as he recognized her. 
 
 "Richard's little girl!" he said in a hoarse 
 whisper, for he could not speak audibly. "Dear 
 old Dick." 
 
 Then he grew delirious again. It was only 
 at intervals he had these gleams of consciousness. 
 
 After awhile his eyes closed wearily. He 
 seemed to sink into a heavy stupor. Bethany 
 sat holding his hand, with the tears silently drop- 
 ping down into her lap as she looked at the worn 
 fingers clasped over hers. 
 
 What a world of good that hand had done! 
 How unselfishly it had toiled on for others, to 
 wipe out the brother's disgrace, to surround the 
 little wife with comforts, to provide the boy
 
 218 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 with the best of everything! Besides all that, 
 it had filled, as far as lay in its power, every 
 other needy hand, stretched out toward its sym- 
 pathetic clasp. 
 
 She sat beside him a long time, but he did 
 not waken from the heavy sleep into which he 
 had fallen, even when she gently withdrew 
 her fingers, and moved away to let Dr. Mills 
 take her place. He had just come in again. 
 
 "Will you need me here to-night, Belle?" 
 asked Bethany. 
 
 The nurse turned to Dr. Mills inquiringly. 
 He shook his head. "Miss Carleton can do all 
 that is necessary," he said. "I shall come again 
 about midnight, and stay the rest of the night, 
 if I am needed. He will probably have no more 
 rational awakenings while this fever keeps at 
 such a frightful heat. If we can subdue that 
 soon, he has such great vitality he may pull 
 through all right." 
 
 "You 'd better go back, dear," urged the 
 nurse. "You have your work ahead of you 
 to-morrow, and you look very tired." 
 
 "I have an almost unbearable headache," 
 admitted Bethany, "or I would not think of 
 leaving. I would not go even for that, if I
 
 DR. TRENT. 219 
 
 thought he would have conscious intervals of 
 any length; but the doctor thinks that is hardly 
 probable to-night. I '11 come back early in the 
 morning. Maybe he will know me then." 
 
 "Are you going, too?" asked Lee, clinging 
 wistfully to David's hand, as Bethany put on her 
 hat. 
 
 "Would you like me to stay?" he asked, 
 kindly. 
 
 Lee swallowed hard, and winked fast to keep 
 back the tears. 
 
 "Everybody else is strangers," he said, with 
 his lip trembling. 
 
 David put his arm around him caressingly. 
 His sympathies went out strongly to the little 
 lad, who might so soon be left fatherless. 
 
 "Then I '11 come back and stay with you till 
 you go to sleep, after I take Miss Hallam home," 
 he promised.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 
 
 I 
 
 EE was waiting disconsolately on the 
 stairs, with Taffy beside him, when 
 David opened the door and stepped 
 into the hall. The landlady was up- 
 stairs with the nurse, and all the boarders had 
 gone to a concert, so the parlor was vacant, and 
 David took the boy in there. He gave him an 
 intricate chain-puzzle to work first, and after- 
 ward told him such entertaining stories of his 
 travels that Lee forgot his painful forebodings. 
 The clock in the hall struck ten before either of 
 them was aware how swiftly the time had passed. 
 "Here 's a little fellow who does n't know 
 where he is to sleep," David said to the nurse, 
 when they had noiselessly entered Dr. Trent's 
 room. 
 
 "We '11 cover him up warm on the sofa," 
 she said, kindly. "He 'd better not undress." 
 
 David looked quickly across to the bed. "Is 
 there any change ?" he asked, anxiously. 
 220
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 221 
 
 She nodded, and then motioned him aside. 
 "Would it be too much to ask you to stay a 
 couple of hours longer, until Dr. Mills comes? 
 Lee clings to you so, and the end may be much 
 nearer than we thought." 
 
 "If I can be erf any use, I '11 stay very will- 
 ingly," he replied. 
 
 They moved the sofa to the other side of the 
 room, and the nurse began folding some blankets 
 the landlady brought her to lay over it. 
 
 "Can 't you put some more coal on the fire, 
 dear?" she asked Lee. 
 
 He picked up a larger lump than he could 
 well manage. The tongs slipped, and it fell with 
 a great noise on the fender, breaking in pieces 
 as it did so, then rattling over the hearth. 
 
 They all turned apprehensively toward the 
 bed. The heavy jarring sound had thoroughly 
 aroused Dr. Trent from his stupor. He looked 
 around the room as if trying to comprehend the 
 situation. He seemed puzzled to account for 
 David's presence in the room, and drew his hand 
 wonderingly across his burning forehead, then 
 pressed it against his aching throat. 
 
 The nurse bent over him to moisten his 
 parched lips with a spoonful of water.
 
 222 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Then he understood. A look of awe stole 
 over his face, as he realized his condition. He 
 held his hand out towards Lee, and the nurse, 
 turning, beckoned the child to come. He folded 
 the cold, trembling little fingers in his hot hands. 
 "Papa's dear little son!" he gasped in whis- 
 pers. 
 
 David turned his head away, his eyes suf- 
 fused with hot tears. The scene recalled so 
 vividly the night he had crept to his father's 
 bedside for the last time. His heart ached for 
 the little fellow. 
 
 "God keep you!" came in the same 
 hoarse whisper. 
 
 Then he turned to the nurse, and with great 
 effort spoke aloud, "Belle, pray!" 
 
 David, standing with bowed head, while she 
 knelt with her arm around the frightened boy, 
 listened to such a prayer as he had never heard 
 before. He had wondered one time how this 
 woman could sacrifice everything in life for the 
 sake of a man who died so many centuries ago. 
 But as he listened now, to her low, earnest voice, 
 he felt an unseen Presence in the room, as of the 
 Christ to whom she spoke so confidingly. 
 
 As she prayed that the Everlasting Arms
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 223 
 
 might be underneath as this soul went down 
 into the "valley of the shadow," the doctor cried 
 out exultingly, "There is no valley!" 
 
 David looked up. The doctor's worn face 
 was shining with an unspeakable happiness. He 
 stretched out his arms. 
 
 "Jesus saves me! O, the wonder of it!" 
 
 His hands dropped. Gradually his eyes 
 closed, and he relapsed into a stupor, from which 
 he never aroused. When Dr. Mills came at 
 midnight he was still breathing; but the street 
 lights were beginning to fade in the gray, wintry 
 dawn when Belle Carleton reverently laid the 
 lifeless hands across the still heart, and turned 
 to look at Lee. 
 
 The child had sobbed himself to sleep on the 
 sofa, and David had gone. 
 
 O, the pity of it, that we keep the heart's-ease 
 of our appreciation to wreathe cold coffin-lids, 
 and cover unresponsive clay ! 
 
 There was a constant stream of people pass- 
 ing in and out of the boarding-house parlor all 
 day. 
 
 Bethany was not surprised at the great num- 
 ber who came to do honor to Baxter Trent, nor
 
 224 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 at the tearful accounts of his helpful ministra- 
 tions from those he had befriended. But as she 
 arranged the great masses of flowers they 
 brought, she thought sadly, "O, why did n't 
 they send these when he was in such sore need 
 of love and sympathy? Now it's too late to 
 make any difference." 
 
 All sorts of people came. A man whose 
 wrists had not yet forgotten the chafing of a 
 convict's shackles, touched one of the lilies that 
 Bethany had placed on the table at the head of 
 the casket. 
 
 "He lived white!" the man said, shaking his 
 head mournfully. "I reckon he was ready to 
 go if ever any body was." 
 
 They happened to be alone in the room, 
 and Bethany repeated what the nurse had told 
 her of the doctor's triumphant passing. 
 
 Late in the afternoon there was a timid 
 knock at the door. Bethany opened it, and saw 
 two little waifs holding each other's cold, red 
 hands. One had a ragged shawl pinned over 
 her head, and the other wore a big, flapping 
 sunbonnet, turned back from her thin, pitiful 
 face. Their teeth were chattering with cold 
 and bashfulness.
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 225 
 
 "Missus," faltered the larger one, "we 
 could n't get no wreaves or crosses, but granny 
 said he would like this "cause it 's so bright and 
 gold-lookin.' " 
 
 The dirty little hand held out a stemless, 
 yellow chrysanthemum. 
 
 "Come in, dears/' said Bethany softly, open- 
 ing the door wide to the little ragamuffins. 
 
 They glanced around the mass of blossoms 
 filling the room, with a look of astonishment that 
 so much beauty could be found in one place. 
 
 "Jess," whispered the oldest one to her sister, 
 "'Pears like our 'n do n't show up for much, be- 
 side all these. I wisht he knowed we walked a 
 mile through the snow to fetch it, and how sorry 
 we was." 
 
 Bethany heard the disappointed whisper. 
 "Did you know him well?" she asked. 
 
 "I should rather say," answered the child. 
 "He kep' us from starvin', all the time granny 
 was down sick so long." 
 
 "An' once he took me and Jess ridin' with 
 him, away out in the country, and he let us get 
 out in a field and pick lots of yellow flowers, 
 something like this, only littler. Did n't he, 
 Jess?" 
 
 15
 
 226 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The other child nodded, saying, as she wiped 
 her eyes with the corner of her sister's shawl, 
 "Granny says we '11 never have another friend 
 like him while the world stands." 
 
 Deeply touched, Bethany held up the stem- 
 less chrysanthemum. "See," she said, "I 'm 
 going to put it in the best place of all, right here 
 by his hand." 
 
 The door opened again to admit David Her- 
 schel. Before it closed the children had slipped 
 bashfully away, still hand in hand. 
 
 Bethany told him of their errand. "Who 
 could have brought more?" she said, touching 
 the shining yellow flower; "for with this little 
 drop of gold is the myrrh of a childish grief, 
 and the frankincense of a loving remembrance." 
 
 She felt that he could appreciate the pathos 
 of the gift, and the love that prompted it. They 
 had grown so much closer together in the last 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 "You Ve been here nearly all day, have n't 
 you?" he asked, noticing her tired face. "I wish 
 you would go home and rest, and let me take 
 your place awhile." 
 
 He insisted so kindly that at last she yielded.
 
 A LITTLE: PRODIGAL. 227 
 
 Her sympathies had been sorely wrought upon 
 during- the day, and she was nearly exhausted. 
 
 After she had gone, he sat down with his 
 overcoat on, near the front window. There was 
 only a smoldering remnant of a fire in the 
 grate. 
 
 The last rays of the sunset were streaming in 
 between the slats of the shutters. He could hear 
 the boys playing in the snowy streets, and the 
 occasional tinkle of passing sleighbells. 
 
 "I wonder where Lee is," he thought. He 
 had not seen the child since morning. 
 
 Two working men came in presently. They 
 looked long and silently at the doctor's peaceful 
 face, and tiptoed awkwardly out again. 
 
 The minutes dragged slowly by. 
 
 The heavy perfume of the flowers made 
 David drowsy, and he leaned his head on his 
 hand. 
 
 The door opened cautiously, and Lee looked 
 in. His eyes were swollen with crying. He did 
 not see David sitting back in the shadow. Only 
 one long ray of yellow sunlight shone in now, 
 and it lay athwart the still form in the center of 
 the room.
 
 228 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Lee paused just a moment beside it, then 
 slipped noiselessly over to the grate. There was 
 a pile of books under his arm. He stirred the 
 dying embers as quietly as he could, and one by 
 one laid the books on the red coals. They were 
 the ones Jack had so unreservedly condemned. 
 Last of all he threw on a dogeared deck of cards. 
 They blazed up, filling the room with light, and 
 revealing David in his seat by the window. 
 
 "O," cried Lee in alarm, "I did n't know any 
 one was in here." 
 
 Then leaning against the wall, he put his 
 head on his arm, and began to sob in deeper dis- 
 tress than he had yet shown. He felt in his 
 pocket for a handkerchief, but there was none 
 there. 
 
 David took out his own and wiped the boy's 
 wet face, as he drew him tenderly to his knee. 
 
 "Now tell me all about it," he said. 
 
 Lee nestled against his shoulder, and cried 
 harder for awhile. Then he sobbed brokenly: 
 "O, I 've been so bad, and he never knew it! I 
 came in here early this morning before anybody 
 was up, to tell him I was sorry that I would be 
 a good boy but he was so cold when T touched 
 him, and he couldn't answer me! O, papa,
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 229 
 
 papa!" he wailed. "It 's so awful to be left all 
 alone just a little boy like me!" 
 
 David folded him closer without speaking. 
 Xo w r ords could touch such a grief. 
 
 Presently Lee sat up and unfolded a piece of 
 paper. It was only the scrap of a fly-leaf, its 
 jagged edges showing it had been torn from some 
 school-book. 
 
 "Do you think it will hurt if I put this in his 
 pocket?" he. asked in a trembling voice. "I 
 want him to take it with him. I felt like if I 
 burned up those books in here, and put this in 
 his pocket, he 'd know how sorry I was." 
 
 David took the bit of paper, all blistered with 
 boyish tears, where a penitent little hand, out 
 of the depths of a desolate little heart, had 
 scrawled the promise: "Dear Papa, I will be 
 good." 
 
 A sob shook the man's strong frame as he 
 read it. 
 
 "I think he will be very glad to have you give 
 him that," he answered. "You 'd better put it 
 in his pocket before any one comes in." 
 
 Lee slipped down from his lap, and crossed 
 the room. "O, I can 't," he moaned, attempting 
 to lift the lifeless hands.
 
 230 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL,. 
 
 David reached down, and unbuttoning the 
 coat, laid the promise of the little prodigal 
 gently on his father's heart, to await its reading 
 in the glad light of the resurrection morning. 
 Then he called some one else to take his place, 
 and went to telephone for a sleigh. In a little 
 while he was driving through the twilight out 
 one of the white country roads, with Lee beside 
 him, that nature's wintry solitudes might lay a 
 cool hand of healing sympathy on the boy's sore 
 heart. 
 
 Bethany took him home with her after the 
 funeral, and kept him a week. 
 
 Miss Caroline and Miss Harriet petted him 
 with all the ardor of their motherly old hearts. 
 Jack did his best to amuse him, and with the 
 elasticity of childhood, he began to recover his 
 usual vivacity. 
 
 "This can not go on always," Mr. Marion 
 said to Bethany one day. He had gone up to the 
 office to talk to her about it. 
 
 Dr. Trent had left a small insurance, request- 
 ing that Frank Marion be appointed guardian. 
 
 "Ray wants him," continued Mr. Marion. 
 "She would have turned the house into an or- 
 phan asylum long ago if I had allowed it. But
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 231 
 
 she has so many demands on her time and 
 strength that I am unwilling to have her taxed 
 any more. You see, for instance, if we should 
 take Lee, I am away from home so much, that 
 the greater part of the care and responsibility 
 would fall on her. Just now his father's death 
 has touched him, and he is making a great effort 
 to do all right; but it will be a hard fight for him 
 in a big place like this, so full of temptations to 
 a boy of his age. He would be a constant care. 
 The only thing I can see is to put him in some 
 private school for a few years." 
 
 "Let me keep him till after Christmas," 
 urged Bethany. "I can't bear to let the little 
 fellow go away among strangers this near the 
 holiday season. I keep thinking, What if it 
 were Jack?" 
 
 "How would it do for me to take him out on 
 my next trip?" suggested Mr. Marion. "I will 
 be gone two weeks, just to little country towns 
 in the northern part of the State, where he could 
 have a variety of scenes to amuse him." 
 
 "That will be fine!" answered Bethany. 
 "I 'm sure he will like it." 
 
 Lee was somewhat afraid of his tall, digni- 
 fied guardian. He had a secret fear that he
 
 232 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 would always be preaching to him, or telling him 
 Bible stories. He hoped that the customers 
 would keep him very busy during the day, and 
 he resolved always to go to bed early enough to 
 escape any curtain lectures that might be in 
 store for him. 
 
 To his great relief, Mr. Marion proved the 
 jolliest of traveling companions. There was no 
 preaching. He did not even try to make sly 
 hints at the boy's past behavior by tacking a 
 moral on to the end of his stories, and he only 
 laughed when Taffy crawled out of the innocent- 
 looking brown paper bundle that Lee would not 
 put out of his arms until after the train had 
 started. 
 
 Such long sleigh-rides as they had across the 
 open country between little towns! Such fine 
 skating places he found while Mr. Marion was 
 busy with his customers! It was a picnic in ten 
 chapters, he told one of the drivers. 
 
 One afternoon, as they drove over the hard, 
 frozen pike, one of the horses began to limp. 
 
 "Shoe 's comin' off," said the driver. 
 "Lucky we 're near Sikes's smithy. It 's jes' 
 round the next bend, over the bridge." 
 
 The smoky blacksmith-shop, with its flying
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 233 
 
 sparks and noisy anvils, was nothing new to 
 Lee. He had often hung around one in the city. 
 In fact, there were few places he had not ex- 
 plored. 
 
 The smith was a loud, blatant fellow, so in 
 the habit of using rough language that every 
 sentence was accompanied with an oath. 
 
 Mr. Marion had taken Lee in to warm by the 
 fire. 
 
 "I wonder what that horrible noise is!" he 
 said. They had heard a harsh, grating sound, 
 like some discordant grinding, ever since they 
 came in sight of the shop. 
 
 Sikes pointed over his shoulder with his sooty 
 thumb. 
 
 "It 's an ole mill back yender. It 's out o' 
 gear somew'eres. It set me plumb crazy at first, 
 but I 'm gettin' used to it now." 
 
 "Let 's go over and investigate," said Mr. 
 Marion, anxious to get Lee out of such polluted 
 atmosphere. 
 
 The miller, an easy-going old fellow, nearly 
 as broad as he was long, did not even take the 
 trouble to remove the pipe from his mouth, as he 
 answered: "O, that! That's nothing but, just 
 one of the cogs is gone out of one of the wheels.
 
 234 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 I keep thinking I'll get it fixed; but there's 
 always a grist a-waiting, so somehow I never get 
 'round to it. Does make an or'nery sound for a 
 fact, stranger; but if I do n't mind it, reckon 
 nobody else need worry." 
 
 "Lazy old scoundrel," laughed Mr. Marion, 
 after they had passed out of doors again. "I 
 do n't see how he stands such a horrible noise. 
 It is a nuisance to the whole neighborhood." 
 
 When he reported the conversation at the 
 smithy, Sikes swore at the miller soundly. 
 
 Frank Marion's eyes flashed, and he took a 
 step forward. 
 
 "Look here, Sikes," he exclaimed, in a tone 
 that made every one in the shop pause to listen, 
 "you 've got a bigger cog missing in you than 
 the old mill has, and it makes you a sight bigger 
 nuisance to the neighborhood. You have lost 
 your reverence for all that is holy. You go 
 grinding away by yourself, leaving out God, 
 leaving out Christ, making a miserable failure 
 of your life grist, and every time you open your 
 lips, your blasphemous words tell the story of 
 the missing cog. If that old mill-wheel makes 
 such a hateful sound, what kind of a discord do
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 235 
 
 you suppose your life is making in the ears of 
 your Heavenly Father?" 
 
 Sikes looked at him an instant irresolutely. 
 His first impulse was to knock him over with 
 the heavy hammer he held; but the truth of the 
 fearless words struck home, and he could not 
 help respecting the man who had the courage 
 to utter them. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir," he said at last. "I had no 
 idee you was a parson. I laid out as you was a 
 drummer." 
 
 "I am a drummer," answered Marion. "I 
 am a wholesale shoe-merchant now; but I spent 
 so many years on the road for this same house 
 before I went into the firm, that I often go out 
 over my old territory." 
 
 Sikes regarded him curiously. "Strikes me 
 you 've got sermons and shoe-leather pretty 
 badly mixed up," he said. 
 
 Afterward, when he had watched the sleigh 
 disappear down the road, he picked up the bel- 
 lows and worked them in an absent-minded sort 
 of a way. 
 
 "A drummer!" he repeated under his breath. 
 "A drummer! I'll be blowed!"
 
 236 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The incident made a profound impression on 
 Lee. A loop in the road brought them in sight 
 of the old mill again. 
 
 "We do n't want to have any cogs missing, 
 do we, son!" said Mr. Marion, first pinching the 
 boy's rosy cheek, and then stooping to tuck the 
 buffalo robes more snugly around him. 
 
 The subject was not referred to again, but 
 the lesson was not forgotten. 
 
 Sunday was passed at a little country hotel. 
 They walked to the Church a mile away in the 
 morning. Time hung heavy on Lee's hands in 
 the afternoon while Mr. Marion was reading. 
 If it had not been for Taffy, it would have been 
 insufferably dull. He had a slight cold, so Mr. 
 Marion did not take him out to the night service. 
 He left him playing with the landlady's baby 
 in the hotel parlor. That amusement did not 
 last long, however. The baby was put to bed, 
 and some of the neighbors came in for a visit 
 Lee felt out of place, and went up to their room. 
 
 It was the best the house afforded, but it was 
 far from being an attractive place. The walls 
 were strikingly white and bare. A hideous 
 green and purple quilt covered the bed. The
 
 A LITTLE PRODIGAL. 237 
 
 rag carpet was a dull, faded gray. The lamp 
 smoked when he turned it up, and smelled 
 strongly of coal-oil when he turned it down. 
 
 He felt so lonely and homesick that he con- 
 cluded to go to bed. It was very early. He 
 could not sleep, but lay there in the dark, lis- 
 tening to somebody's rocking-chair, going 
 squeakety squeak in the parlor below. 
 
 He wished he could be as comfortable and 
 content as Taffy, curled up in some flannel in a 
 shoe-box, on a chair beside the bed. He reached 
 out, and stroked the puppy's soft back. 
 
 The feeling came over him as he did so, that 
 there was n't anybody in all the world for him 
 really to belong to. 
 
 It was the first time since Bethany took him 
 home that he had felt like crying. Now he lay 
 and sobbed softly to himself till he heard Mr. 
 Marion's step on the stairs. 
 
 He grew quiet then, and kept his eyes closed. 
 Mr. Marion lighted the lamp, putting a high- 
 backed chair in front of it, so that it could not 
 shine on the bed. He picked up his Bible that 
 was lying on the table, and, turning the leaves 
 very quietly that he might not disturb Lee, 
 found the night's lesson.
 
 238 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 A stifled sniffle made him pause. After a 
 long time he heard another. Laying down his 
 book, he stepped up to the bed. Lee was per- 
 fectly motionless, but the pillow was wet, and 
 his face streaked with traces of tears. Marion, 
 with his hands thrust in his pockets, stood look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 All the fatherly impulses of his nature were 
 stirred by the pitiful little face on the pillow. 
 
 He knelt down and put his strong arm ten- 
 derly over the boy. 
 
 "Lee," he said, "look up here, son." 
 
 Lee glanced timidly at the bearded face so 
 near his own. 
 
 "You were lying here in the dark, crying 
 because you felt that there was nobody left to 
 love you. Now put your arms around my neck, 
 dear, while I tell you something. I had a little 
 child once. I can never begin to tell you how 
 I loved her. When she died it nearly broke my 
 heart. But I said, for her sake I shall love all 
 children, and try to make them happy. Because 
 her little feet knew the way home to God, I 
 shall try to keep all other children in the same 
 pure path. For her sake, first, I loved you;
 
 A LITTLK PRODIGAL. 239 
 
 now, since we have been together, for your own. 
 I want you to feel that I am such a close friend 
 that you can always come to me just as freely 
 as you did to your father." 
 
 The boy's clasp around his neck tightened. 
 
 "But, Lee, there will be times in your life 
 when you will need greater help than I can give; 
 and because I know just how you will be tried, 
 and tempted, and discouraged, I want you to 
 take the best of friends for your own right now. 
 I want you to take Jesus. Will you do this?" 
 
 Lee hesitated, and then said in a half-fright- 
 ened whisper, "I do n't know how." 
 
 "Did you ever ask your papa to forgive you 
 after you had been very naughty?" asked Mr. 
 Marion. 
 
 "O yes," cried Lee, "but it was too late." 
 Between his choking sobs he told of the promise 
 lying on his father's heart, in the far-off grave 
 under the cemetery cedars. 
 
 Mr. Marion controlled his voice with an 
 effort, as he pointed out the way so surely and 
 so simply that Lee could not fail to understand. 
 
 Then, with his arm still around him, he 
 prayed; and the boy, following him step by step
 
 240 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 through that earnest prayer, groped his way to 
 his Savior. 
 
 It was a time never to be forgotten by either 
 Frank Marion or Lee. They lay awake till long 
 after midnight, too happy even to think of sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 HERZENRUHE. 
 
 STORY has come down to us of a 
 cricket that, hidden away in an old oak 
 chest, found its way to the New World 
 in the hold of the Mayflower. When 
 night came, and the strange loneliness of those 
 winter wilds made the bravest heart appalled; 
 when little children held with homesick long- 
 ing to their mother's hands, and talked of Eng- 
 land's bonny hedgerows, then the brave little 
 cricket came out on the hearthstone; and its 
 familiar chirp, bringing back the cheer of the 
 happy past, comforted the children, and sang 
 new hopes into the hearts of their elders. 
 
 With every vessel that has touched the New 
 World's shores since that time have come these 
 fireside voices. Whether stowed away in the 
 ample chests of the first Virginians, or bound 
 in the bundles of the last steerage passengers 
 just landed at Castle Garden, some quaint cus- 
 tom of a distant Fatherland has always folded its 
 16 241
 
 242 IN L,EAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 wings, ready to chirp on the new hearthstone, 
 the familiar even-song of the old. 
 
 That is how the American celebration of 
 Christmas has become so cosmopolitan in its 
 character. It is a chorus of all the customs that, 
 cricket-like, have journeyed to us, each with its 
 song of an "auld lang syne." 
 
 "I should like to have a little of everything 
 this year," remarked Miss Caroline, as, pencil 
 in hand, she prepared to make a long memo- 
 randum. 
 
 It was two weeks before Christmas, and^she 
 had called a family council in her room, after 
 Jack had gone to bed. 
 
 Mrs. Marion and Lois were there, busily 
 embroidering. 
 
 "It is the first time we have had a home of 
 our own for so many years, or been where there 
 is a child in the family," added Miss Harriet, 
 "that we ought to make quite an occasion of it." 
 
 "Now, my idea," remarked Miss Caroline, 
 "is to begin back with the mistletoe of the 
 Druids, and then the holly and plum-pudding 
 of old England. I ? m sorry we can't have the 
 Yule log and the wassail-bowl and the dear little
 
 HHRZENRUHE. 243 
 
 Christmas waits. It must have been so lovely. 
 But we can have a tree Christmas eve, with all 
 the beautiful German customs that go with it. 
 Jack must hang up his stocking by the chimney, 
 whether he believes in Santa Clans or not. Then 
 we must read up all the Scandinavian and Dutch 
 and Flemish customs, and observe just as many 
 as we can." 
 
 "And all this just for Jack and Lee," said 
 Mrs. Marion, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Bless you, no," exclaimed Miss Caroline. 
 "Jack is going to invite ten poor children that 
 the Junior Mercy and Help Department have 
 reported. He is so grateful for being able to 
 walk a little, that he wants to give up his whole 
 Christmas to them." 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" asked Lois. 
 "I 'm through with my last present now, and 
 am ready for anything, from serving a dinner to 
 the slums to playing a bagpipe for its enter- 
 tainment." 
 
 As she spoke she snipped the last thread of 
 silk with her little silver scissors, and tossed the 
 piece of embroidery into Bethany's lap. 
 
 Bethany spread it out admiringly. "You
 
 244 IN lyEAGUK WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 are a true artist, Lois," she said. "These sweet 
 peas look as if they had just been gathered. 
 They would almost tempt the bees." 
 
 "They 're not as natural as Ray's butter- 
 cups," answered Lois. "You can't guess whom 
 she 's making that table-cover for?" 
 
 Mrs. Marion held it up for them to see. "For 
 that dear old grandmother where we were enter- 
 tained at Chattanooga last summer," she said. 
 "Do n't you remember Mrs. "Warf ord, Bethany ? 
 She could n't hear well enough to enjoy the 
 meetings, or to talk to us much, but her face was 
 a perpetual welcome. She asked me into -her 
 room one day, and showed me a great bunch of 
 red clover some one had sent her from the 
 country. She seemed so pleased with it, and 
 told me about the clover chains she used to make, 
 and the buttercups she used to pick in the mead- 
 ows at home, with all the artlessness of a child. 
 That is why I chose this design." 
 
 "There never was another like you, Cousin 
 Ray," said Bethany. "You remember every- 
 thing and everybody at Christmas, and I do n't 
 see how you ever manage to get through with so 
 much work.''' 
 
 "Love lightens labor," quoted Miss Harriet,
 
 HERZENRUHE. 245 
 
 sententiously. "At least that 's what my old 
 copy-book used to say." 
 
 "And it also said, if I remember aright," 
 said Miss Caroline, a little severely, " 'Plan out 
 your work, and work out your plan.' It 's high 
 time we were settling down to business, if we 
 expect to accomplish anything." 
 
 While this Christmas council was in session 
 in Hiss Caroline's room, another was being held 
 in an old farm-house in the northern part of 
 the State, by Gottlieb Ilartmann's wife and 
 daughter. Everything in the room gave evi- 
 dence of German thrift and neatness, from the 
 shining brass andirons on the hearth, to the 
 geraniums blooming on the window-sill. 
 
 "Herzenruhe" was the name of the home 
 Gottlieb Hartmann had left behind him in the 
 Fatherland, when he came to America a poor 
 emigrant boy; and that was the name now carved 
 on the arch that spanned the wide entrance-gate, 
 leading to the home and the well-tilled acres 
 that he had earned by years of steady, honest 
 toil. 
 
 It was indeed "heart's-ease," or heart-rest, to 
 every wayfarer sheltered under its ample roof- 
 tree.
 
 246 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 He had accumulated his property by careful 
 economy, but he gave out with the same con- 
 scientious spirit with which he gathered in. N o 
 matter when the summons might come, at night- 
 fall or at cock-crowing, he was ready to give an 
 account of his faithful stewardship. Not only 
 had he divided his bread with the hungry, but 
 he had given time and personal care, and a share 
 in his own home-life, to those who were in need. 
 
 More than one young farmer, jogging past 
 Herzenruhe in a wagon of his own, looked grate- 
 fully up the long lane, and remembered that he 
 owed the steady habits of his manhood and his 
 present prosperity to Gottlieb Hartmann. For 
 in all the years since he had had a place of his 
 own, there had seldom been a time when some 
 homeless boy or another had not been a member 
 of his household. 
 
 He was an old man now, white-haired and 
 rheumatic, and called grandfather by all the 
 country side; but he was still young at heart, 
 sweet and sound to the very core, like a hardy 
 winter apple. His children had all married and 
 gone farther West, except his oldest daughter, 
 Carlotta, whom no one had ever been able to
 
 HERZENRUHE. 247 
 
 lure away from her comfortable home-nest. She 
 was an energetic, self-willed little body, and had 
 gradually assumed control until the entire house- 
 hold revolved around her. Just now she had 
 wheeled her sewing-machine beside the table, on 
 which the evening lamp stood, and was prepar- 
 ing to dress a whole family of dolls to be packed 
 in the Christmas boxes that were soon to be sent 
 West. 
 
 Her mother sat on one side of the fireplace, 
 her sweet, wrinkled old face bright with the 
 loving thoughts that her needles were putting 
 into a little red mitten, destined for one of the 
 boxes. 
 
 "It will be the first Christmas since I can 
 remember," said Carlotta, "that there will be no 
 little ones here, and no tree to light. Ben's boy 
 was here last year, and all of Mary's children 
 the year before. It 's a pity they are so far away. 
 It will just spoil my Christmas." 
 
 Mr. Hartmann laid down the German Ad- 
 vocate he was reading. 
 
 "Ach, Lotta," he said, "I forgot to tell you. 
 There will be a little lad here to-morrow to take 
 dinner with us. When I was in town to-day I
 
 248 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 met our good friend, Frank Marion, and he had 
 a boy with him whose father is just dead, and 
 he is the guardian." 
 
 "How many years has it been since Mr. Ma- 
 rion first came here?" asked Carlotta. "Seems 
 to me I was only a little girl, and now I have 
 pulled out lots of gray hairs already." 
 
 "It has been twenty years at least," answered 
 her mother. "It was while we were building 
 the ice-house, I know." 
 
 "Yes," assented her husband, "I had gone 
 into Ridgeville one Saturday to get some new 
 boots, and I met him in the shoestore. He was 
 just a young fellow making his first trip, and 
 he seemed so strange and homesick that when I 
 found he was a country boy and a strong Meth- 
 odist, I brought him out here to stay over Sun- 
 day with us." 
 
 "I remember you brought him right into the 
 kitchen where I was dropping noodles in the 
 soup," answered Mrs. Hartmann, "and he has 
 seemed to feel like one of the family ever since." 
 
 "Yes, he has never missed coming out here 
 every time he has been in this part of the State, 
 from that day to this," said Mr. Hartmann, tak- 
 ing up his paper again.
 
 HERZENRUHE. 249 
 
 Meanwhile, in the Ridgeville Hotel, three 
 miles away, Mr. Marion was telling Lee of all 
 the pleasant things that awaited him at Herzen- 
 ruhe. The boy was so impatient to start that he 
 could hardly wait for the time to come, and he 
 dreamed all night of the country. 
 
 Mr. Marion saw very little of him during the 
 visit. The delighted child spent all his time in 
 the barn, or in the dairy, helping Miss Carlotta. 
 "O, I wish we did n't ever have to go away," he 
 said. "There 's the dearest little colt in the 
 barn, and six Holstein calves, and a big pond in 
 the pasture covered with ice!" 
 
 Later he confided to Mr. Marion, "Miss Car- 
 lotta makes doughnuts every Saturday, and she 
 says there 's bushels of hickory-nuts in the 
 garret." 
 
 When Miss Carlotta found that Mr. Marion 
 was going on to the next town before starting 
 home, she insisted on keeping Lee until his re- 
 turn. 
 
 "Let him get some of 'the sun and wind into 
 his pulses.' It will be good for him," she said. 
 
 "Nobody knows better than I," answered 
 Mr. Marion, "the sweet wholesomeness of 
 country living. I should be glad to leave him
 
 250 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 in such an atmosphere always. He would de- 
 velop into a much purer manhood, and I am 
 sure would be far happier." 
 
 Miss Carlotta shook her head sagely. 
 "We '11 see," she said. "Do n't say anything to 
 him about it, but we '11 try him while you 're 
 gone, and then I '11 talk to father. He seems 
 right handy about the chores, and there is a good 
 school near here." 
 
 Two days later, when Mr. Marion came back, 
 he went out to the barn to find Lee. The boy 
 had just scrambled out of a haymow with his 
 hat full of eggs. His face was beaming. 
 
 "I 've learned to milk," he said proudly, 
 "and I rode to the post-office this afternoon, 
 horseback." 
 
 "Do you like it here, my boy?" asked Mr. 
 Marion. 
 
 "Like it!" repeated Lee, emphatically. 
 "Well I should say! Mr. Hartmann is just the 
 grandfatheriest old grandfather I ever knew, 
 and they 're all so good to me." 
 
 It proved to be a very eventful journey for 
 the boy; for after some discussion about his 
 board, it was arranged that he should come back 
 to the farm after the holidays.
 
 HERZENRUHE. 251 
 
 "Do I have to wait till then?" he asked. 
 "Why could n't I stay right on, now I 'm here. 
 You could send my clothes to me, and it 
 would n't cost near as much as to go home first." 
 
 "What will Bethany say?" asked Mr. Ma- 
 rion. "She is planning for a big tree and lots 
 of fun Christmas." 
 
 "But papa won't be there," pleaded Lee. 
 "I 'd so much rather stay here than go back to 
 town and find him gone." 
 
 "Then you shall stay," exclaimed Miss Car- 
 lotta, touched by the expression of his face. 
 "We '11 have a tree here. You can dig one up in 
 the woods yourself." 
 
 When Mr. Marion drove away, Lee rode 
 down the lane with him to open the big gate." 
 After he had driven through he turned for one 
 more look. 
 
 The boy stood under the archway waving 
 good-bye with his cap. The late afternoon sun 
 shone brightly on the happy face, and illumi- 
 nated the snow, still clinging to the quaintly 
 carved letters on the arch above, till it seemed 
 they were all golden letters that spelled the name 
 of Herzenruhe.
 
 252 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 This holiday season would have been a sad 
 time for Bethany, had she allowed herself to 
 listen to the voices of Christmas past, but Baxter 
 Trent's example helped her. She turned reso- 
 lutely away from her memories, saying: "I will 
 be like him. No heart shall ever have the 
 shadow of my sorrow thrown across it." 
 
 Full of one thought only, to bring some hap- 
 piness into every life that touched her own, she 
 found herself sharing the delight of every child 
 she saw crowding its face against the great show 
 windows. She anticipated the pleasure that 
 would attend the opening of each bundle carried 
 by every purchaser that jostled against her in 
 the street. It was impossible for her to breathe 
 the general air of festivity at home, and not carry 
 something of the Christmas spirit to the office 
 with her. 
 
 "Everybody has caught the contagion," she 
 said gayly, coming into the office Saturday after- 
 noon, with sparkling eyes, and snowflakes still 
 clinging to her dark furs. "I saw that old bach- 
 elor, Mr. Crookshaw, whom everybody thinks 
 so miserly, going along with a little red cart 
 under his arm, and a tin locomotive bulging out 
 of his pocket."
 
 HERZENRUHE. 253 
 
 "Jack is missing a great deal," said David, 
 "by not being down-town every day." 
 
 "O no, indeed!" she exclaimed. "He is 
 nearly wild now with the excitement of the prep- 
 arations that are going on at home. That re- 
 minds me, he has written a special invitation for 
 you to be present at the lighting of his tree 
 Christmas eve. He put it in my muff, so that I 
 could not possibly forget. I am sure you will 
 enjoy watching the children," she added, after 
 she had told him of their various plans, "and I 
 hope you will be sure to come." 
 
 "Thank you," he responded, warmly. "That 
 is the second invitation I have had this after- 
 noon. Mr. Marion has just been in to ask me to 
 attend the League's devotional meeting to-mor- 
 row night. He says it will be especially inter- 
 esting on account of the season, and insists that 
 'turn about is fair play.' He went to our Atone- 
 ment-day services, and he wants me to be present 
 at his Christmas services." 
 
 "We shall be very glad to have you come," 
 said Bethany. "Dr. Bascom is to lead the meet- 
 ing instead of any of the young people, who 
 usually take turns. I can not tell how such a
 
 254 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 meeting might impress an outsider; to me they 
 are very inspiring and helpful." 
 
 That night, as she sat in her room indulging 
 in a few minutes of meditation before putting 
 out the light, she reviewed her acquaintance 
 with David Herschel. Her conscience con- 
 demned her for the little use she had made of 
 her opportunity. 
 
 It had been four months since he had come 
 into the office, and while they had several times 
 discussed their respective religions, she had never 
 found an occasion when she could make a per- 
 sonal appeal to him to accept Christ. Once when 
 she had been about to do so, he had abruptly 
 walked away, and another time, a client had 
 interrupted them. 
 
 "I must speak to him frankly," she said. 
 Then she knelt and prayed that something might 
 be said or sung in the service of the morrow that 
 would prepare the way for such a conversation. 
 
 David felt decidedly out of place Sunday 
 evening as he took a seat in the back part of the 
 room, in the least conspicuous corner he could 
 find. 
 
 They were singing when he entered. He
 
 HERZENRUHE. 255 
 
 recognized the tune. It was the one he had 
 heard at Chattanooga "Nearer, my God, to 
 Thee." It seemed to bring the whole scene 
 before him the sunrise the vast concourse of 
 people, and the earnestness that thrilled every 
 soul. 
 
 At the close of the song, another was an- 
 nounced in a voice that he thought he recog- 
 nized. He leaned forward to make sure. Yes, 
 he had been correct. It was Hewson Raleigh's 
 one of the keenest, most scholarly lawyers at 
 the bar, and a man he met daily. 
 
 He was leaning back in his seat, beating time 
 with his left hand, as he led the tune with his 
 strong tenor voice. He sang as if he heartily 
 enjoyed it, and meant every word and note. 
 
 David moved over to make room for a new- 
 comer. From his changed position he could see 
 a number of people he recognized : Mr. and Mrs. 
 Marion, Lois Denning, and the Courtney sisters. 
 Bethany was seated at the piano. 
 
 Presently the door from the pastor's study 
 opened, and Dr. Bascom came in and took his 
 seat beside the president of the League. 
 
 "Look at Dr. Bascom," he heard some one
 
 256 IN LrKAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 behind him whisper to her escort. "What do 
 you suppose could have happened? His face 
 actually shines." 
 
 David had been watching it ever since he 
 took his seat. It was a benign, pleasant face at 
 all times, but just now it seemed to have caught 
 the reflection of a great light. Everybody in the 
 room noticed it. David, quick to make Old 
 Testament comparisons, thought of Moses com- 
 ing down the mountain from a talk with God. 
 He felt as positively, as if he had seen for him- 
 self, that the minister had just risen from his 
 knees, and had come in among them, radiant 
 from the unspeakable joy of that communion. 
 Every one present began to feel its influence. 
 
 The prophecy Dr. Bascom had chosen for 
 reading, was one they had heard many times, 
 but it seemed a new proclamation as he deliv- 
 ered it: 
 
 "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is 
 given." 
 
 Something of the gladness that must have 
 rung through the song of the heralds on that 
 first Christmas night, seemed to thrill the min- 
 ister's voice as he read. 
 
 Then he turned to Luke's account of the
 
 HERZENRUHE. 257 
 
 shepherds abiding in the fields by night that 
 beautiful old story, that will always be new un- 
 til the stars that still shine nightly over Bethle- 
 hem shall have ceased to be a wonder. 
 
 As the service progressed, David began to 
 feel that he was not in a church, but that he 
 had stumbled by mistake on some family re- 
 union. Everything was so informal. They told 
 the experiences of the past week, the blessings 
 and the trials that had come to them since they 
 had last seen each other. 
 
 Sometimes they stood; oftener they spoke 
 from where they sat, just as they would have 
 talked in some home-circle. 
 
 And through it all they seemed to recognize 
 a Divine presence in the room, to whom they 
 spoke at intervals with reverence, with humility, 
 but with the deepest love and gratitude. 
 
 As David listened to voice after voice testi- 
 fying to a personal knowledge of Christ as a 
 Savior, he was forced to admit to himself that 
 they possessed something to which he was an 
 utter stranger. 
 
 When Hewson Raleigh arose, David listened 
 with still greater interest. He knew him to be 
 an eloquent lawyer, and had heard him a number 
 17
 
 258 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 of times in rousing political speeches, and once 
 in a masterly oration over the Nation's dead on 
 Memorial-day. He knew what a power the man 
 had with a jury, and he knew what respect even 
 his enemies had for his unimpeachable veracity 
 and honor. 
 
 Raleigh stood up now, quiet and unimpas- 
 sioned as when examining a witness, to give his 
 own clear, direct, lawyer-like testimony. 
 
 He said: "There may be some here to-night 
 to whom the prophecy that was read, and the 
 story of the Advent, are only of historic interest. 
 To such I do not come with the sayings of the 
 prophets, or to repeat the tidings of the shep- 
 herds, or to ask any one's credence because the 
 apostles and martyrs and Christians of all times 
 believed. I tell you that which I myself do 
 know. The Holy Spirit has led me to the Christ. 
 If he were only an ethical teacher, if he were not 
 the Son of God, he could not have entered into 
 my life, and transformed it as he has done.. My 
 star of hope is far more real to me than the 
 stars outside that lighted my way to this room 
 to-night. I have knelt at his feet and wor- 
 shiped, and gone on my way rejoicing. I 
 know that through the sacrifice he offered on
 
 HERZENRUHE. 259 
 
 Calvary my atonement is made, and I stand 
 before the Father justified, through faith in his 
 only-begotten. The voice that bears witness 
 to this may not be audible to you; but though 
 all the voices in the universe were combined 
 to dispute it, they would be as nothing to that 
 still, small voice within that whispers peace 
 the witness of the Spirit." 
 
 On the Day of Atonement Marion and Crag- 
 more had not been half so surprised at hearing 
 the League benediction intoned by rabbi and 
 choir, as was David when the familiar blessing 
 of the synagogue was repeated in unison by 
 those of another faith: 
 
 "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 counte- 
 nance upon thee, and give thee peace." 
 
 David had heard so much of Methodists that 
 he had expected noisy demonstrations and 
 great exhibitions of emotion. He had found 
 enthusiastic singing and hearty responses of 
 amen during the prayers; but while the prevail- 
 ing spirit seemed one of intense earnestness, 
 it had the depth and quiet of some great, resist- 
 less under-current.
 
 260 IN LEAGUE WITH 
 
 He slipped out of the room after the bene- 
 diction, fearful of meeting curious glances. A 
 member of the reception committee managed 
 to shake hands with him, but his friends had not 
 discovered his attendance. 
 
 Two things followed him persistently. The 
 expression of Dr. Bascom's face, and Hewson 
 Raleigh's emphatic "I know." 
 
 He took the last train out to Hillhollow, 
 wishing he had staid away from the League 
 meeting. It haunted him, and made him un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 He walked the floor until long after mid- 
 night. Even sleep brought him no rest, for in 
 his dreams he was still groping blindly in the 
 dark for something he knew not what but 
 something wise men had found long years ago 
 in a starlit manger, earth's "Herzenruhe."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 T was Christmas eve, and nearing the 
 time for Bethany to leave the office. 
 She stood, with her wraps on, by one 
 of the windows, waiting for Mr. Ed- 
 munds to come back. She had a message to 
 deliver before she could leave, and she expected 
 him momentarily. 
 
 In the street below people were hurrying 
 by with their arms full of bundles. She was 
 impatient to be gone, too. There were a great 
 many finishing touches for her to give the tall 
 tree in the drawing-room at home. 
 
 She had worked till the last moment at noon, 
 and locked the door regretfully on the gayly- 
 decked room, with its mingled odors of pine 
 boughs- and oranges, always so suggestive of 
 Christmas festivities. 
 
 While she stood there, she heard steps in 
 
 the hall. 
 
 261
 
 262 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "O, I thought you were Mr. Edmunds," she 
 exclaimed, as David entered. It was the first 
 time he had been at the office that day. "I have 
 a message for him. Have you seen him any- 
 where ?" 
 
 "No," answered David. "I have just come 
 in from Hillhollow. Marta has telegraphed 
 that she is coming home on the night train, so I 
 shall not be able to accept Jack's invitation. 
 She had not expected to come at all during the 
 holidays; but one of the teachers was called 
 home, and she could not resist the temptation 
 to accompany her, although she can only stay 
 until the end of the week." 
 
 As Bethany expressed her regrets at Jack's 
 disappointment, David picked up a small pack- 
 age that lay on his desk. 
 
 "O, the expressman left that for you a little 
 while ago," she said. "Your Christmas is be- 
 ginning early." 
 
 She turned again to the window, peering 
 out through the dusk, while David lighted the 
 gas-jet over his desk, and proceeded to open the 
 package. 
 
 It occurred to her that here was a time, 
 while all the world was turning towards the
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 263 
 
 Messiah on this anniversary eve of his coming, 
 that she might venture to speak of him. Before 
 she could decide just how to begin, David spoke 
 to her: 
 
 "Do you care to look, Miss Hallam ? I would 
 like for you to see it." 
 
 He held a little silver case towards her, on 
 which a handsome monogram was heavily 'en- 
 graved. 
 
 As she touched the spring it flew open, show- 
 ing an exquisitely painted miniature on ivory. 
 
 She gave an involuntary cry of delight. 
 
 "What a beautiful girl," she exclaimed. "It 
 is one of the loveliest faces I ever saw." She 
 scrutinized it carefully, studying it with an art- 
 ist's evident pleasure. Then she looked up with 
 a smile. 
 
 "This must be the one Rabbi Barthold spoke 
 to me about," she said. "He said that she was 
 rightly named Esther, for it means star, and her 
 great, dark eyes alwavs made him think of star- 
 light." 
 
 "How long ago since he told you that?" asked 
 David in surprise. 
 
 "When we first began taking Hebrew les- 
 sons," she answered.
 
 264 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "And did he tell you we are bethrothed?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 David felt annoyed. He knew intuitively 
 why his old friend had departed so from his 
 usual scrupulousness regarding a confidence. 
 He had intimated to David, when he had first 
 met Miss Hallam, that she was an unusually 
 fascinating girl, and he feared that their growing 
 friendship might gradually lessen the young 
 man's interest in Esther, whom he saw only at 
 long intervals, as she lived in a distant city. 
 
 "I had hoped to have the pleasure of telling 
 you myself," said David. 
 
 "I have often wondered what she is like," 
 answered Bethany, "and I am glad to have this 
 opportunity of offering my congratulations. I 
 wish that she lived here that I might make her 
 acquaintance. I do not know when I have seen 
 a face that has captivated me so." 
 
 "Thank you," replied David, flushing with 
 pleasure. A tender smile lighted his eyes as he 
 glanced at the miniature again before closing 
 the case. "She will come to Hillhollow in the 
 spring," he added proudly. 
 
 They heard Mr. Edmunds's voice in the hall. 
 Bethanv held out her hand.
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 265 
 
 "I shall not see you again until next week, 
 I suppose," she said, "so let me wish you a very 
 happy Christmas." 
 
 He kept her hand in his an instant as he 
 repeated her greeting, then, looking earnestly 
 down into the upturned face, added gently in 
 Hebrew, the old benediction "Peace be upon 
 you." 
 
 It was quite dark when she stepped out into 
 the streets. She thought of David and Esther 
 all the way home. 
 
 At first she thought of them with a tender 
 smile curving her lips, as she entered unselfishly 
 into the happiness of the little romance she had 
 discovered. 
 
 Then she thought of them with tears in her 
 eyes and a chill in her heart, as some little waif 
 might stand shivering on the outside of a win- 
 dow, looking in on a happy scene, whose warmth 
 and comfort he could not share. The joy of her 
 own betrothal, and the desolation that ended it, 
 surged back over her so overwhelmingly that she 
 was in no mood for merry-making when she 
 reached home. 
 
 She longed to slip quietly away to her own 
 room, and spend the evening in the dark with
 
 266 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 her memories. She had to wait a moment on 
 the threshold before she could summon strength 
 enough to go in cheerfully. 
 
 Mrs. Marion and Lois were in the dining- 
 room helping the sisters decorate the long table, 
 where the children were to be served with supper 
 immediately on their arrival. 
 
 "Frank and Jack have gone out in a sleigh 
 to gather them up," said Mrs. Marion. "They '11 
 soon be here, so you '11 not have much time to 
 dress." 
 
 "All right," responded Bethany, "I '11 go in 
 a minute. Mr. Herschel can't come, so you may 
 as well take off one plate." 
 
 "But George Cragmore can," said Miss Caro- 
 line, pausing on her way to the kitchen. "I asked 
 him this morning, and forgot to say anything 
 about it." 
 
 Then she trotted out for a cake-knife, bliss- 
 fully unconscious of the grimace Bethany made 
 behind her back. 
 
 "O dear!" she exclaimed to Lois, "Miss Caro- 
 line means all right, but she is a born match- 
 maker. She has taken a violent fancy to Mr. 
 Cragmore, and wants me to do the same. She 
 thinks she is so very deep, and so very wary in
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 267 
 
 the way she lays her plans, that I '11 never sus- 
 pect; but the dear old soul is as transparent as 
 a window-pane. I can see every move she 
 makes." 
 
 ""What about Mr. Crag-more?" asked Lois. 
 "Is he conscious of her efforts in his behalf?" 
 
 "O no. He thinks that she is a dear, motherly 
 old lady, and is always paying her some flatter- 
 ing attention. It is well worth his while, for she 
 makes him perfectly at home here, keeps his 
 pockets full of goodies, as if he were an over- 
 grown boy (which he is in some respects), and 
 treats him with the consideration due a bishop. 
 She is always going out to Clarke Street to 
 hear him preach, and quoting his sermons to 
 him afterwards. There he is now!" she ex- 
 claimed, as two short rings and one long one 
 were given the front door-bell. 
 
 "So he even has his especial signals," 
 laughed Lois. "'He must be on a very familiar 
 footing, indeed." 
 
 "He got into that habit when he first started 
 to calling by to take me up to the Hebrew class," 
 she explained. "Miss Caroline encouraged him 
 in it."
 
 268 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 Just then Miss Caroline came hurrying 
 through the room to receive him. 
 
 "Bethany, dear," she said in an excited 
 stage whisper, "you 'd better run up the back 
 stairs. And do put on your best dress, and a 
 rose in your hair, just to please me. Now, won't 
 you?" 
 
 Bethany and Lois looked at each other and 
 laughed. 
 
 "I 'd like to shock her by going in just as I 
 am," said Bethany; "but as it's Christmas-time 
 I suppose I must be good and please everybody." 
 
 It was not long before a great stamping of 
 many snowy little feet announced the arrival 
 of the Christmas guests. 
 
 They came into the house with such rosy, 
 happy faces, that no one thought of the patched 
 clothes and ragged shoes. 
 
 "Dear hearts, I wish we could have a hun- 
 dred instead of ten," sighed Miss Harriet, as 
 she helped seat them at the table. "They look as 
 though they never once had enough to eat in all 
 their little lives." 
 
 "They shall have it now." declared Miss 
 Caroline heartily, "if George Cragmore does n't
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 269 
 
 keep them laughing so hard they can't eat Just 
 hear the man!" 
 
 She had never seen him in such a gay humor, 
 or heard him tell such irresistibly funny stories 
 as the ones he brought out for the entertainment 
 of these poor little guests, who had never known 
 anything but the depressing poverty of the most 
 wretched homes. 
 
 Mr. Marion was the good St. Nicholas who 
 had found them, and spirited them away to this 
 enchanted land; but Cragmore was the Aladdin 
 who rubbed his lamp until their eyes were 
 dazzled by the wonderful scenes he conjured up 
 for them. 
 
 When the dinner was over, and everything 
 had been taken off the table but the flowers and 
 candles and bonbon dishes, he lifted the smallest 
 child of all from her high chair, and took her on 
 his knee. 
 
 With his arms around her, he began to tell 
 the story of the first Christmas. His voice was 
 very deep and sweet, and he told it so well one 
 could almost see the dark, silent plains and the 
 white sheep huddled together, and the shepherds 
 keeping watch by night.
 
 270 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 One by one the children slipped down from 
 their chairs, and crowded closer around him. 
 
 He had never preached before to such a 
 breathless audience, and he had never put into 
 his sermons such gentleness and pathos and 
 power. 
 
 He was thinking of their poor, neglected 
 lives, and how much they needed the love of 
 One who could sympathize to the utmost, be- 
 cause he Avas born among the lowly, and "was 
 despised and rejected of men." When he had 
 finished, the tears stood in his eyes with the 
 intensity of his feeling, and the children were 
 very quiet. 
 
 The little girl on his lap drew a long breath. 
 Then she smiled up in his face, and, putting her 
 arm around his neck, leaned her head against 
 him. 
 
 There was a bugle-call from the library, and 
 Jack led the children away to listen to an 
 orchestra composed of boys from the League, 
 who had volunteered their services for the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 While they were playing some old carols, 
 Miss Caroline called Mr. Cragmore aside. "I 've 
 sent Bethany to light the candles on the tree in
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 271 
 
 the drawing-room," she said. "May be you can 
 help her." 
 
 Lois heard the whisper, and his hearty re- 
 sponse, "May the saints bless you for that now!" 
 She hurried into the hall to intercept Bethany. 
 
 "Ah ha, my lady," she said teasingly, 
 "you need n't be putting everything off onto 
 poor Aunt Caroline. I 've just now discovered 
 that she is only somebody's cat's-paw." 
 
 Bethany was irritated. She had been greatly 
 touched by the winning tenderness of Crag- 
 more's manner with the children. If there had 
 been no memory of a past love in her life, she 
 could have found in this man all the qualities 
 that would inspire the deepest affection; but 
 with that memory always present, she resented 
 the slightest word that hinted of his interest in 
 her. 
 
 She made Lois go with her to light the tapers, 
 and that mischief-loving girl thoroughly enjoyed 
 forestalling the little private interview Miss 
 Caroline had planned for her protege. 
 
 It was still early in the evening, while the 
 children were romping around the dismantled 
 tree, that Cragmore announced his intention of 
 leaving.
 
 272 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I promised to talk at a Hebrew mission 
 to-night," he explained, in answer to the remon- 
 strances that greeted him on all sides. 
 
 "By the way," he exclaimed, "I intended 
 to tell you about that, and I must stay a moment 
 longer to do it." 
 
 He hung his overcoat on the back of a tall 
 chair, and folded his arms across it. 
 
 "The other day I made the acquaintance of 
 a Russian Jew, Sigmund Ragolsky. He has a 
 remarkable history. He married an English 
 Jewess, was a rabbi in Glasgow for a long time, 
 and is now a Baptist preacher, converted after a 
 fourteen years' struggle against a growing be- 
 lief in the truth of Christianity. The story of 
 his life sounds like a romance. He was so strictly 
 orthodox that he would not strike a match on 
 the Sabbath. He would have starved before 
 he would have touched food that had not been 
 prepared according to ritual. He is here for 
 the purpose of establishing a Hebrew mission. 
 You should see the people who come to hear 
 him. They are nearly all from that poor class 
 in the tenement district. One can hardly be- 
 lieve they belong to the same race with Rabbi 
 Barthold and his cultured friends. Ragolsky,
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 273 
 
 though, is a scholar, and I should like to hear 
 the two men debate. He says the Reform Jews 
 are no Jews at all that they are the hardest 
 people in the world to convert, because they look 
 for no Messiah, accept only the Scripture that 
 suits them, and are so well satisfied with them- 
 selves that they feel no need of any mediator 
 between them and eternal holiness. They feel 
 fully equal to the task of making their own atone- 
 ment. Rabbi Barthold says that the orthodox 
 are narrow fanatics, and that the majority of 
 them live two lives one towards God, of slavish 
 religious observances; the other towards man, 
 of sharp practices and double-dealing. I want 
 you to hear Ragolsky preach some night. I '11 
 tell you his story some other time." 
 
 "Tell me this much now," said Bethany, as 
 he picked up his overcoat again; "did he have to 
 give up his family as Mr. Lessing did?" 
 
 "No, indeed. Happily his wife and children 
 were converted also. He had two rich brothers- 
 in-law in Cape Colony, Africa, who cut them off 
 without a shilling, but he is not grieving over 
 that, I can assure you. O, he is so full of his 
 purpose, and is such a happy Christian! If we 
 
 were all as constantly about the Master's busi- 
 18
 
 274 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 ness as he is, the millennium would soon be 
 here." 
 
 Afterward, when the children had been 
 taken home, and the feast and the tree, and the 
 people who gave them, were only blissful mem- 
 ories in their happy little hearts, Bethany stood 
 by the window in her room, holding aside the 
 curtain. 
 
 Everything outside was covered with snow. 
 She was thinking of Ragolsky and Lessing, and 
 wondering which of the two fates would be 
 David Herschel's, if he should ever become a 
 Christian. 
 
 Would Esther's love for her people be 
 stronger than her love for him? 
 
 She knew how tenaciously the women of 
 Israel cling to their faith, yet she felt that it 
 was no ordinary bond that held these two to- 
 gether. 
 
 Looking up beyond the starlighted heavens, 
 Bethany whispered a very heartfelt prayer for 
 David and the beautiful, dark-eyed girl who 
 was to be his bride; and like an answering omen 
 of good, over the white roofs of the city came 
 the joyful clangor of the Christmas chimes.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A " WATCH-NIGHT " CONSECRATION. 
 
 HE office work for the old year was 
 all done. Mr. Edmunds had locked 
 his desk and gone home. David 
 would soon follow. He had only 
 some private correspondence to finish. 
 
 Bethany sat nervously assorting the letters 
 in the different pigeon-holes of her desk. 
 Ninety-five was slipping out into the eternities. 
 It had brought her a prayed-for opportunity; 
 it was carrying away a far different record from 
 the one she had planned. She felt that she 
 could not bear to have it go in that way, yet an 
 unaccountable reticence sealed her lips. 
 
 David had been in the office very little dur- 
 ing the past week, only long enough to get his 
 mail. This afternoon he had a worried, pre- 
 occupied look that made it all the harder for 
 Bethany to say what was trembling on her lips. 
 
 She heard him slipping the letter into the 
 
 275
 
 276 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 envelope. He would be gone in just another 
 moment. Now lie was putting on his overcoat. 
 O, she must say something! Her heart beat 
 violently, and her face grew hot. She shut her 
 eyes an instant, and sent up a swift, despairing 
 appeal for help. 
 
 David strolled into the room with his hat in 
 his hand, and stood beside her table. 
 
 ""Well, the old year is about over, Miss Hal- 
 lam," he said, gravely. "It has brought me a 
 great many unexpected experiences, but the 
 most unexpected of all is the one that led to our 
 acquaintance. In wishing you a happy new 
 year, I Avant to tell you what a pleasure your 
 friendship has been to me in the old." 
 
 Bethany found sudden speech as she took 
 the proffered hand. 
 
 "And I want to tell you, Mr. Herschel, that 
 I have not only been wishing, but praying ear- 
 nestly, that in this new year you may find the 
 greatest happiness earth holds the peace that 
 comes in accepting Christ as a Savior." 
 
 He turned from her abruptly, and, with his 
 hands thrust in his overcoat pockets, began pac- 
 ing up and down the room with quick, excited 
 strides.
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 277 
 
 "You, too!" he cried desperately. "I seem 
 to be pursued. Every way I turn, the same thing 
 is thrust at me. For weeks I have been fighting 
 against it O, longer than that since I first 
 talked to Lessing. Then there was Dr. Trent's 
 death, and that nurse's prayer, and the League 
 meeting Frank Marion persuaded me into at- 
 tending. Cragmore has talked to me so often, 
 too. I can answer arguments, but I can't an- 
 swer such lives and faith as theirs. Yesterday 
 morning I had a letter from Lee little Lee 
 Trent thanking me for a book I had sent him, 
 and even that child had something to say. He 
 told me about his conversion. Last night curi- 
 osity led me down town to hear a Russian Jew 
 preach to a lot of rough people in an old ware- 
 house by the river. His text was Pilate's ques- 
 tion, '"What shall I do then with Jesus, which is 
 called Christ ?' It was n't a sermon. There 
 was n't a single argument in it. It was just a 
 tragically-told story of the Nazarene's trial and 
 death sentence but he made it such a personal 
 matter. All last night, and all day to-day those 
 words have tormented me beyond endurance, 
 'What shall I do? What shall I do with this 
 Jesus called Christ!' "
 
 278 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 He kept on restlessly pacing back and forth 
 in silence. Then he broke out again: 
 
 "I saw a man converted, as you call it, down 
 there last night. He had been a rough, blas- 
 phemous drunkard that I have seen in the police 
 courts many a time. I saw him fall on his knees 
 at the altar, groaning for mercy, and I saw him, 
 when he stood up after a while, with a face like 
 a different creature's, all transformed by a great 
 joy, crying out that he had been pardoned for 
 Christ's sake. I just stood and looked at him, 
 and wondered which of us is nearer the truth. 
 If I am right, what a poor, deluded fool he is! 
 But if he is right, good God- 
 He stopped abruptly. 
 
 "Mr. Herschel," said Bethany, slowly, "if 
 you were convinced that, by going on some cer- 
 tain pilgrimage, you could find Truth, but that 
 the finding would shatter your belief in the creed 
 you cling to now, would you undertake the 
 journey? Which is stronger in you, the love for 
 the faith of your fathers, or an honest desire for 
 Truth, regardless of long-cherished opinion?" 
 For a moment there was no answer. Then 
 he threw back his shoulders resolutely. 
 
 "I would take the journey," he said, with
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 279 
 
 decision. "If I am wrong I want to know it." 
 Bethany slipped a little Testament out of one 
 of the pigeon-holes, and handed it to him, 
 opened at the place where the answer to Thomas 
 was heavily underscored: 
 
 "Jesus saith unto him, I am the way and 
 the truth and the life; no man cometh unto the 
 Father but by me." 
 
 "Follow that path," she said, simply. "The 
 door has never been opened to you, because you 
 have never knocked. You have no personal 
 knowledge of Christ, because you have never 
 sought for it. He has never revealed himself 
 to you, because you have never asked him to 
 do so." 
 
 He turned to her impatiently. 
 
 "Could you honestly pray to Confucius?" 
 he asked; "or Isaiah, or Elijah, or John the 
 Baptist? This Jewish teacher is no more to me 
 than any other man who has taught and died. 
 How can I pray to him, then?" 
 
 Bethany fingered the leaves of her little 
 Testament, her heart fluttering nervously. 
 
 "I wish you would take this and read it," 
 she said. "It would answer you far better than 
 I can."
 
 280 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 "I have read it," he replied, "a number of 
 years ago. I could see nothing in it." 
 
 "O, but you read it simply as a critic," she 
 answered. "See!" she cried eagerly, turning 
 the leaves to find another place she had marked. 
 "Paul wrote this about the children of Israel: 
 'Their minds were blinded: for until this day 
 remaineth the same veil' (the one told about 
 in Exodus, you know) 'untaken away, in 
 the reading of the Old Testament; which veil 
 is done away in Christ. But even unto this day, 
 when Moses is read, the veil is upon their 
 heart. Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the 
 Lord, the veil shall be taken away.' ' 
 
 "Where does it say that?" he asked, incred- 
 ulously. He took the book, and turning back to 
 the first of the chapter, commenced to read. 
 
 The great bell in the court-house tower be- 
 gan clanging six. 
 
 "I must go," he said; "but I'll take this 
 with me and look through it another time." 
 
 "I wish you would come to the watch-meet- 
 ing to-night," she said, wistfully. "It is from 
 ten until midnight. All the Leagues in the 
 city meet at Garrison Avenue."
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 281 
 
 He slipped the book in his pocket, and but- 
 toned up his overcoat. A sudden reserve of 
 manner seemed to envelop him at the same time. 
 
 "No, thank you," he answered, drawing on 
 his gloves. "I have an informal invitation from 
 some friends in Hillhollow to dance the old year 
 out and the new year in." 
 
 His tone seemed so flippant after the recent 
 depth of feeling he had betrayed, that it jarred 
 on Bethany's earnest mood like a discord. He 
 moved toward the door. 
 
 "No matter where you may be," she said as 
 he opened it, "I shall be praying for you." 
 
 After he had gone, Bethany still sat at her 
 desk, mechanically assorting the letters. She 
 was so absorbed in her thoughts that she had 
 quite forgotten it was time to go home. 
 
 The door opened, and Frank Marion came 
 in. He was followed by Cragmore, who was 
 going home with him to dinner. 
 
 "All alone?" asked Mr. Marion in surprise. 
 "Where 's David? We dropped in to invite 
 him around to the watch-meeting to-night." 
 
 "He has just gone," answered Bethany. "I 
 asked him, but he declined on account of a pre-
 
 282 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 vious engagement. O, Cousin Frank," she ex- 
 claimed, "I do believe he is almost convinced 
 of the trnth of Christianity!" 
 
 She repeated the conversation that had just 
 taken place. 
 
 "He has been fighting against that convic- 
 tion for some time," answered Mr. Marion. "I 
 had a talk with him last week." 
 
 "What do you suppose Rabbi Barthold 
 would say if Mr. Herschel should become a 
 Christian?" asked Bethany. 
 
 "Ah, I asked the old gentleman that very 
 question yesterday," exclaimed Mr. Cragmore. 
 "It astounded him at first. I could see that the 
 mere thought of such apostasy in one he loves 
 as dearly as his young David, wounded him 
 sorely. O, it grieved him to the heart! But 
 he is a noble soul, broad-minded and generous. 
 He did not answer for a moment, and when he 
 finally spoke I could see what an effort the words 
 cost him: 
 
 " 'David is a child no longer,' he said, slowly. 
 'He has a right to choose for himself. I would 
 rather read the rites of burial over his dead body 
 than to see him cut loose from the faith in which 
 I have so carefully trained him; but no matter
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 283 
 
 what course he pursues, I am sure of one thing, 
 his absolute honesty of purpose. Whatever he 
 does, will be from a deep conviction of right. I, 
 who was denounced and misunderstood in my 
 youth because I cast aside the weight of ortho- 
 doxy that bound me down spiritually, should be 
 the last one to condemn the same independence 
 of thought in others.' ' 
 
 "Herschel would have less opposition to 
 contend with than any Jew I know," remarked 
 Mr. Marion. 
 
 "That little sister of his would be rather 
 pleased than otherwise, and, I think, would soon 
 follow his example." 
 
 Bethany thought of Esther, but said nothing. 
 
 "We '11 make it a subject of prayer to- 
 night," said Cragmore, who had been appointed 
 to lead the meeting. 
 
 "Yes," answered Marion, clapping his friend 
 en the shoulder. Then he quoted emphatic- 
 ally: " 'And this is the confidence that we have 
 in Him, that if we ask anything according to 
 his will, he heareth us.' ' 
 
 "Let 's ask him right now!" cried Cragmore, 
 in his impetuous way. 
 
 He slipped the bolt in the dx>or, and kneeling
 
 284 ' IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 beside David's desk, began praying for his ab- 
 sent friend as he would have pleaded for his 
 life. Then Marion followed with the same un- 
 faltering earnestness, and after his voice ceased, 
 Bethany took up the petition. 
 
 "Nobody need tell me that those prayers are 
 not heard," exclaimed Marion, triumphantly, as 
 he arose from his knees. "I know better. Come, 
 Bethany; if you are ready to go, we will walk 
 as far as the avenue with you." 
 
 As they went down-stairs together, he kept 
 singing softly under his breath, "Blessed be the 
 name, blessed be the name of the Lord !" 
 
 By ten o'clock the League-room of the Garri- 
 son Avenue Church was crowded. 
 
 George Cragmore had prepared a carefully- 
 studied address for the occasion; but during the 
 half hour of the song service preceding it, while 
 he studied the faces of his audience, his heart 
 began to be strangely burdened for David and 
 his people. He covered his eyes with his hand 
 a moment, and sent up a swift prayer for guid- 
 ance, before he arose to speak. 
 
 "My friends," he said in his deep, musical 
 voice, "I had thought to talk to you to-night of 
 'spiritual growth,' but just now, as I have been
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 285 
 
 sitting here, God had put another message into 
 my mouth. We are all children of one Father 
 who have met in this room, and for that reason 
 you will bear with me now for the strangeness 
 of the questions I shall ask, and the seeming 
 harshness of my words. This is a time for honest 
 self-examination. I should like to know how 
 many, during the year just gone, have contrib- 
 uted in any way to the support of Home and 
 Foreign Missions?" 
 
 Every one in the room arose. 
 
 "How many have tried, by prayer, daily in- 
 fluence, and direct appeal, to bring some one to 
 Christ?" 
 
 Again every one arose. 
 
 "How many of you, during the past year, 
 have spoken to a Jew about your Savior, or in 
 any way evinced to any one of them a personal 
 interest in the salvation of that race?" 
 
 Looks of surprise were exchanged among 
 the Leaguers, and many smiled at the question. 
 Only two arose, Mr. Marion and Bethany Hal- 
 lam. 
 
 When they had taken their seats again there 
 was a moment of intense silence. The earnest 
 solemnity of the minister was felt by every one
 
 286 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 present. They waited almost breathlessly for 
 what was coming. 
 
 "There is a young Jew in this city to-night 
 whose heart is turning lovingly towards your 
 Savior and mine. I have come to ask your 
 prayers in his behalf, that the stumbling-blocks 
 in his way may be removed. But it is not for 
 him alone my soul is burdened. I seem to hear 
 Isaiah's voice crying out to me, 'Comfort ye, 
 comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak 
 ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her 
 that her warfare is accomplished, that her in- 
 iquity is pardoned.' And then I seem to hear 
 another voice that through the thunderings of 
 Sinai proclaims, 'Thou shalt not bear false wit- 
 ness/ Ah! the Christian Church has been 
 weighed in the balance and found wanting. It 
 must read a terrible handwriting on the wall 
 in the fact that Israel's eyes have not been 
 opened to the fulfillment of prophecy. For had 
 she seen Christ in the daily life of every fol- 
 lower since he was first preached in that little 
 Church at Antioch, we would have had a race of 
 Sauls turned Pauls! We are Christ's witnesses 
 to all men. Do all men see Christ in us, or only
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 287 
 
 a false, misleading image of him? He cherished 
 no racial prejudices. He turned away from no 
 man with a look of scorn, or a cold shrug of in- 
 difference. He drew no line across which his 
 sympathies and love and helping hands should 
 not reach. When we do these things, are we 
 not bearing false witness to the character of him 
 Avhose name we have assumed, and the emblem 
 of whose cross we wear? I can not believe that 
 any of us here have been willfully neglectful, 
 of this corner of the Lord's vineyard. It must 
 be because your hearts and hands were full of 
 other interests that you have been indifferent 
 to this." 
 
 Then he told them of Lessing and Ragolsky 
 and David, and called on them to pray that his 
 friend might find the light he was seeking. A 
 dozen earnest prayers were offered in quick suc- 
 cession, and every heart went out in sympathy 
 to this young Jew, whom they longed to see 
 happy in the consciousness of a personal Savior. 
 
 David had not gone out to Hillhollow. He 
 dined at the restaurant, and was just starting 
 leisurely down to the depot when he found that 
 his watch told the same time as when he had
 
 288 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 looked at it an hour before. It must have been 
 stopped even some time before that. At any 
 rate it had made him too late for the train. The 
 next one would not leave till nine o'clock. He 
 stood on a corner debating how to pass the time, 
 and finally concluded to go back to the office for 
 a magazine he had borrowed from Jlabbi Bart- 
 hold, and take it home to him. 
 
 His steps echoed strangely through the de- 
 serted hall as he climbed the stairs to the office. 
 He lighted the gas, and sat down to look through 
 the papers on his desk for the magazine. But 
 when he had found it, he still sat there idly, 
 drumming with his fingers on the rounds of his 
 chair. 
 
 After awhile he took Bethany's Testament 
 out of his pocket, and began to read. It was 
 marked heavily with many marginal notes and 
 underscored passages, that he examined with a 
 great deal of curiosity. Beginning with Mat- 
 thew's account of the wise men's search, he read 
 steadily on through the four Gospels, past Acts, 
 and through some of Paul's epistles. It was 
 after ten by the office clock when he finished the 
 letter to the Hebrews. 
 
 He put the book down with a groan, and,
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 289 
 
 folding his arms on the desk, wearily laid his 
 head on them. 
 
 Just then Bethany's parting words echoed 
 in his ears, "No matter where you may be, I 
 shall be praying for you." 
 
 It had irritated him at the moment. Now 
 there was comfort in the thought that she might 
 be interceding in his behalf. He loved the faith 
 of his fathers. He was proud of every drop of 
 Israelitish blood that coursed through his veins. 
 He felt that nothing could induce him to re- 
 nounce Judaism nothing! Yet his heart went 
 out lovingly toward the Christ that had been 
 so wonderfully revealed to him as he read. 
 
 The conviction was slowly forcing itself on 
 his mind that in accepting him he would not be 
 giving up Judaism, that he would only be ac- 
 cepting the Messiah long promised to his own 
 people only believing fulfilled prophecy. 
 
 He wanted him so this Christ who seemed 
 able to satisfy every longing of his heart, which 
 just now was 'hungering and thirsting after 
 righteousness;' this Christ who had so loved the 
 world that he had given himself a willing sac- 
 rifice to make propitiation for its sins for his 
 
 David Herschel's sins. 
 
 19
 
 290 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The old questions of the Trinity and the In- 
 carnation came back to perplex him, and he put 
 them resolutely away, remembering the words 
 that Bethany had quoted, that when Israel 
 should turn to the Lord, the veil should be taken 
 from its heart. 
 
 Suddenly he started to his feet, and with his 
 hands clasped above his head, cried out: "O, 
 Thou Eternal, take away the veil! Show me 
 Christ! I will give up anything everything 
 that stands in the way of my accepting him, if 
 thou wilt but make him manifest!" 
 
 He threw himself on his knees in an agony 
 of supplication, and then rising, walked the 
 floor. Time and again he knelt to pray, and 
 again rose in despair to pace back and forth. 
 
 He hardly knew what to expect, but Paul's 
 conversion had been attended by such miracu- 
 lous manifestations that he felt that some great 
 revelation must certainly be made to him. 
 
 Opening the little Testament at random, he 
 saw the words, "If thou shalt confess with thy 
 mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine 
 heart that God hath raised him from the dead, 
 thou shalt be saved."
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 291 
 
 "I do believe it," he said aloud. "And I will 
 confess it the first opportunity I have. Yes, I 
 will go right now and tell Uncle Ezra no mat- 
 ter what it may cause him to say to me." 
 
 He looked at the clock again. The old year 
 was almost gone. It was nearly midnight. 
 Kabbi Barthold would be asleep. Then he re- 
 membered the watch-night service Bethany 
 had asked him to attend. Cragmore and Marion 
 would be there. He would go and tell them. 
 
 He started rapidly down the street, saying 
 to himself: "How queer this seems! Here am I, 
 a Jew, on my way to confess before men that 
 I believe a Galilean peasant is the Son of God. 
 I do n't understand the mystery of it, but I do 
 believe in some way the promised atonement 
 has been made, and that it avails for me." 
 
 He clung to that hope all the way down to 
 the Church. It was growing stronger every 
 step. 
 
 Bethany had risen to take her place at the 
 piano at the announcement of another hymn, 
 when the door opened and David Herschel stood 
 in their midst. Not even glancing at the startled 
 members of the League, he walked across the
 
 292 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 room and held out one hand to Cragmore and 
 the other to Marion. His voice thrilled his list- 
 eners with its intensity of purpose. 
 
 "I have come to confess before you the be- 
 lief that your Jesus is the Christ, and that 
 through him I shall be saved." 
 
 Then a look of happy wonderment shone in 
 his face, as the dawning consciousness of his ac- 
 ceptance became clearer to him. 
 
 "Why, I am saved! Now!" he cried in joy- 
 ful surprise. 
 
 Glad tears sprang to many eyes, and only one 
 exclamation could express the depth of Frank 
 Marion's gratitude an old-fashioned shout of 
 "Glory to God!" Yes, an old, old fashion for 
 it came in when "the morning stars sang to- 
 gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 
 
 "O, I must tell the whole world!" cried 
 David. 
 
 "Come!" exclaimed Cragmore, turning to 
 those around him, and laying his hand on 
 David's shoulder; "here is another Saul turned 
 Paul. Who such missionaries of the cross as 
 these redeemed sons of Abraham? Leagued 
 with such an Israel, we could soon tell all the 
 world. Who will join the alliance?"
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 293 
 
 In answer they came crowding around 
 David, with warm hand-clasps and sympathetic 
 words, till the bells all over the city began toll- 
 ing the hour of midnight. 
 
 At a word from Cragmore they knelt in the 
 final prayer of consecration. 
 
 There was a deep silence. Then the leader's 
 voice began: 
 
 "The untried paths of the new year stretch 
 out into unknown distances. But trusting in an 
 Allwise Father, in a grace-giving Christ, and the 
 sustaining presence of the Holy Spirit, how 
 many will sing with me: 
 
 T=r 
 
 "Where He leads me 
 
 will fol - low, 
 
 * V 
 
 Where He leads me 
 
 will 
 
 fol - low, 
 
 Where He leads me 
 
 will fl - l w - 
 
 
 
 I'll go with Him, with Him all
 
 294 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 The melody arose, sweet and subdued, as 
 every voice covenanted with his. 
 
 "But some of us may have planned out cer- 
 tain paths for. our own feet, that lead alluringly 
 to ease and approbation. Think ! God may call 
 us into obscure bypaths, into ways that lead to 
 no earthly recompense, to lowly service and un- 
 requited toil. Can we still sing it? Let us 
 wait. Let us consider and be very sure." 
 
 In the prayerful silence, David thought of 
 his profession and the hopes of the great suc- 
 cess that it was his ambition to attain. Could 
 he give it up, and spend his life in an unappreci- 
 ated ministry to his people? He wavered. But 
 just then he had a vision of the Christ. He 
 seemed to see a footsore, tired man, holding out 
 his hands in blessing to the motley crowds that 
 thronged him ; and again he saw the same patient 
 form stumbling wearily along under a heavy 
 beam of wood, scourged, mocked, spit upon, 
 nailed to the cross, for him! 
 
 David shuddered, and he took up the re- 
 frain : "I '11 go with Him, with Him, all the 
 way." 
 
 "It may be that, so far as ambition and per- 
 sonal plans are concerned, we are willing to put
 
 A WATCH-NIGHT CONSECRATION. 295 
 
 ourselves entirely in God's hands; but suppose 
 he should call for our hearts' best beloved, are 
 we willing to make of this hour a Mount 
 Moriah, on which we sacrifice our Isaacs our 
 all? Do we consecrate ourselves entirely? Will 
 we go with him all the way, no matter through 
 what dark Gethsemane he may see best to lead 
 us?" 
 
 Again David wavered as Esther's beautiful 
 face came before him. 
 
 "O God! anything but that!" he cried out 
 passionately. 
 
 Cragmore felt him trembling, and, reaching 
 out, clasped his hand, and prayed silently that 
 strength might be given him to make the con- 
 secration complete. 
 
 "I '11 go with Him, with Him, all the way!" 
 
 David's voice sung it unfalteringly. When 
 they arose the tears were streaming down his 
 cheeks, but a great light was in his face, and a 
 great peace in his heart. The Christ had been 
 revealed to him. A new life and a new year 
 had been born together. 
 
 No, the story is not done, but the rest of it 
 can not be written until it has first been lived.
 
 296 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 In God's good time the shuttles of his pur- 
 poses shall weave these life-webs to the finish. 
 Some threads may cross and twine, some be 
 widely parted, and some be snapped asunder. 
 Who can tell? The new year has only begun. 
 
 But we know that all things work together 
 for good to those who give themselves into the 
 eternal keeping, and a God 's in his heaven."
 
 SILENT KEYS. 
 
 1STCE, in a shadowy old cathedral, a 
 young girl sat at the great organ, 
 playing over and over a simple mel- 
 ody for a group of children to sing. 
 They were rehearsing the parts they were to 
 take in the Christmas choruses. 
 
 It was not long before every voice had 
 caught the sweet old tune of "J oy to the World," 
 and as their little feet pattered down the solemn 
 aisles, the song was carried with them to the 
 work and play of the streets outside. 
 
 As the girl turned to follow, she found the 
 old white-haired organist, a master-musician, 
 standing beside her. 
 
 "Why did you not strike all the keys, little 
 sister?" he asked. "You have left silent some 
 of the sweetest and deepest. Listen! This is 
 what you should have put into your song." 
 
 As he spoke, his powerful hands touched the 
 key-board, till the great cathedral seemed to 
 
 297
 
 298 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 tremble with the mighty symphony that filled 
 it "Joy to the world, the Lord is come!" 
 
 High, sweet notes, like the matin-songs of 
 sky-larks, fluttered away from his touch, and 
 went winging their flight up and up beyond 
 all mortal hearing. Down the deep, full chords 
 and majestic octaves rolled the triumphal glad- 
 ness. Every key seemed to find a voice, as the 
 hands of the old musician swept through the 
 variations of "Antioch." 
 
 Tears filled the young girl's eyes, and when 
 he had finished she said sadly: "Ah, only a 
 master-hand could do that bring out the varied 
 tones of those silent keys, and yet through it all 
 keep the thread of the song clear and unbroken. 
 All those divine harmonies were in my soul as 
 I played, yet had I tried to give expression to 
 them, I might have wandered away from the 
 simple motif that I would have the children 
 remember always. In trying to span those 
 fuller chords you strike so easily, or in reaching 
 always for the highest notes, I would have failed 
 to impress them with the part they are to take 
 in the choruses, and they would not have gone 
 out as they did just now, singing their joy to the 
 world."
 
 SILENT KEYS. 299 
 
 Maybe some such master may turn the pages 
 of this story, and feel the same impatience at 
 its incompleteness. Here in this place he would 
 have added, with strong touches, many a con- 
 vincing argument. There he would have spoken 
 with the voice of a sage or prophet, and he may 
 turn away, saying: "Why did you not strike all 
 the keys, little sister? You have left silent some 
 of the sweetest and deepest." 
 
 The answer is the same. Only a master- 
 hand can sweep the gamut of history and human 
 weaknesses and dogmas and creeds, touch the 
 discordant elements of controversy and criticism 
 in all their variations, and at the same time keep 
 the simple theme constantly throbbing through 
 them, so strong and full and clear it can never 
 be forgotten. 
 
 The purpose of this story is accomplished 
 if it has only attracted the attention of the 
 League to a neglected duty, and struck a higher 
 key-note of endeavor. But the League must not 
 stop with that. 
 
 There is only one song that will ever bring 
 universal joy to this old, tear-blinded world, and 
 that is that the Lord is come, and that he is risen 
 indeed in the lives of his followers.
 
 300 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 True, the veriest child may lisp it; but the 
 League should not be content simply to do that. 
 It should be the master-musician, so familiar 
 with the great complexity of human doubts and 
 longings, that it will know just what chord to 
 touch in every heart it is striving to help. 
 
 Go back to the days of the dispersion, and 
 follow this Ishmael through his almost limitless 
 desert of persecution his hand against every 
 man because every man's hand was against him. 
 
 Put yourself in his place until your vision 
 grows broad and your sympathy deep. Chafe 
 against his limitations. Stumble over his ob- 
 stacles, and in so doing learn where best to place 
 the stepping-stones. 
 
 Dig down through the strata of tradition, 
 below all the manifold ceremonies of his formal 
 worship, until you come to the bed-rock of prin- 
 ciple underlying them. 
 
 When you have thus studied Judaism, its 
 prophets, its priesthood, its patriots when you 
 have traced its sinuous path from Abraham's 
 tent to the Temple gates, and then followed its 
 diverging lines on into almost every hamlet of 
 both hemispheres, you will have learned some-
 
 SILENT KEYS. 301 
 
 thing more than the history of Judaism. You 
 will have read the story of the whole race of 
 Adam, and you will have fitted yourself far 
 better to serve humanity. 
 
 Christ reached his hearers through his inti- 
 mate knowledge of them. He never talked to 
 shepherds of fishing-nets, nor to vine-dressers 
 of flocks. He gave the same water of life to 
 the woman at Jacob's well that he bestowed on 
 the ruler who came to him by night. Yet how 
 differently he presented it to the ignorant Sa- 
 maritan and the learned Nicodemus. 
 
 To this end, then, study these creeds and 
 systems; for instance, the unity of God, clung 
 to alike by the Hebrew persistently reiterating 
 his Shemang, and the Moslem crying "God is 
 God, and Mohammed is his prophet!" 
 
 Follow this belief in the Unity, as it goes 
 deeply channeling its way through centuries of 
 Semitic thought, until it enters the very life- 
 blood. You can trace its influence even down 
 into the early Christian Church, in the hot dis- 
 putes of Arius and his followers, at the Council 
 of Nicea. 
 
 Not until you comprehend how idolatrous
 
 302 IN LEAGUE WITH ISRAEL. 
 
 the worship of the Trinity seems to a Jew, can 
 you understand what a stumbling-block lies be- 
 tween him and the acceptance of his Messiah. 
 
 You will find this study of Judaism reaching 
 out like a banyan-tree, striking root and branch- 
 ing again and again in so many different places 
 that it seems that it must certainly, by some one 
 of its manifold ramifications, shadow every 
 great problem and people. 
 
 In the first conception of this story it was 
 purposed to place considerable emphasis on a 
 number of things that have been left untouched, 
 especially the colonization schemes of the phi- 
 lanthropic Barons Hirsch and De Rothschild, 
 and the prophecies concerning the return of the 
 Jews to Palestine. 
 
 But prophecy, while always a most interest- 
 ing and profitable subject for research and study, 
 leads into an unmapped country of speculation. 
 Many an enthusiast, not recognizing that on 
 God's great calendar a thousand years are but 
 as a day, has attempted to solve the mysteries 
 of Revelations by the same numerical system 
 with which he calculates his assets and liabili- 
 ties. As we examine this subject, we must not 
 forget the vast difference between our finite
 
 SILENT KEYS. 303 
 
 yardsticks, and the reed of the angel who meas- 
 ured the city. 
 
 God grant that, as the tree thrown into the 
 stream of Marah changed its bitter waters into 
 wholesome, life-giving sweetness, so this study 
 of Israel, earnestly and honestly pursued, may 
 turn all bitterness of prejudice into the broad, 
 sweet spirit of true brotherhood!
 
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