Genre Biography & Autobiography. Page - 4

Courier; the whole house is at the service of my best of friends! He keeps his hand upon the carriage-door, and asks some other question to enhance the expectation. He carries a green leathern purse outside his coat, suspended by a belt. The idlers look at it; one touches it. It is full of five-franc pieces. Murmurs of admiration are heard among the boys. The landlord falls upon the Courier's neck, and folds him to his breast. He is so much fatter than he was, he says! He looks so rosy and so well!

The door is opened. Breathless expectation. The lady of the family gets out. Ah sweet lady! Beautiful lady! The sister of the lady of the family gets out. Great Heaven, Ma'amselle is charming! First little boy gets out. Ah, what a beautiful little boy! First little girl gets out. Oh, but this is an enchanting child! Second little girl gets out. The landlady, yielding to the finest impulse of our common nature, catches her up in her arms! Second little boy gets out. Oh, the sweet boy! Oh, the tender little fa

he had to change and diminish his demands and finally, when he was dangerously near a disclosure, he was saved by the Sultan's transferring his interest to the French and obtaining his funds from them. With Kaiser Wilhelm, he soon appreciated the fact that he had to deal with a great theatrical personality who spoke of plans and purpose with great fire, but had no courage and whose convictions melted away in the face of obstacles.

The world Herzl dealt with has passed away. The Turkish Empire now occupies a small part of the Near East. Its former provinces have now become "sovereign" states struggling to establish harmony between themselves and feeding on their animus towards the Jewish people returning home. The methods of diplomacy have changed. Loudness of speech is no longer out of order. Frankness and brutality may be expected at any international gathering. It is now felt as never before that behind political leaders, rulers, princes, statesmen, the people are advancing and soon will be able to

Before either could answer, bombs were falling on all sides of thehospital. "There they are!" I exclaimed. Not yet realizing howdangerous the bombs could be, we casually walked to the windows andwatched the tremendous explosions moving across the camp-towardheadquarters-raising clouds of dust to the rooftops. The war arrivedat Camp John Hay at 0809 hours, Dec. 8, 1941. Between twenty andtwenty-five twin-engine bombers were overhead in a diamond formation.Soon some 150 bombs of various sizes were bringing disability anddeath to many of our soldiers-drilling on the parade ground-and totheir families in their small homes. It seemed unreal that Camp Haycould be the first target of the Japanese bombers, actually startingWorld War II in the Philippines.

Where were our American planes? We probably did just what the Japaneseplanned that we would. We called Clark Air Field-about one-hundredmiles to the southwest, and told them, "Camp John Hay is being bombed!Get some fighters up here, and keep tho

en floor that Friday, and rose with sore knees, aching shoulders, and red, rough hands. I never forgot the lesson Mama taught me. I must understand and respect those who might work for me.

Around that time, Mama entered into a business partnership with Meyer Weinrauch. Meyer's line of business was shoes, and he was opening a new store. While Meyer obtained merchandise from various wholesalers, Mama was to be in charge of the store.

The store was one the Eisenbadstrasse, outside the main Jewish district. Mama ran the business as smoothly and efficiently as she did her home. None of my friends had mothers who worked, but I accepted that my mother was different. I always believed Mama was a genius and could do whatever she set her mind to.

My friends were Jewish children who lived in our building and girls from clubs to which I belonged. I joined youth groups and we met on Shabbos afternoons to sing Hebrew songs and discuss religion and debate Jewish concerns. On Sundays, we went on outings

true one. This noteof regret and of a curious longing for perfection were the chiefmental impressions which I gathered from that new stage of mygrowth--impressions which imparted new principles to my view ofmyself, of men, and of God's world. O good and consoling voice,which in later days, in sorrowful days when my soul yieldedsilently to the sway of life's falseness and depravity, so oftenraised a sudden, bold protest against all iniquity, as well asmercilessly exposed the past, commanded, nay, compelled, me tolove only the pure vista of the present, and promised me all thatwas fair and happy in the future! O good and consoling voice!Surely the day will never come when you are silent?

IV

OUR FAMILY CIRCLE

PAPA was seldom at home that spring. Yet, whenever he was so, heseemed extraordinarily cheerful as he either strummed hisfavourite pieces on the piano or looked roguishly at us and madejokes about us all, not excluding even Mimi. For instance, hewould say that the Tsarevitch hims

hings holy that were therein contained, and especially, the priest and clerk most happy, and without doubt, greatly blessed, because they were the servants, as I then thought, of God, and were principal in the holy temple, to do His work therein.

17. This conceit grew so strong in a little time upon my spirit, that had I but seen a priest (though never so sordid and debauched in his life), I should find my spirit fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him; yea, I thought, for the love I did bear unto them (supposing them the ministers of God), I could have laid down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them; their name, their garb, and work did so intoxicate and bewitch me.

18. After I had been thus for some considerable time, another thought came in my mind; and that was, whether we were of the Israelites or no? For finding in the scripture that they were once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if I were one of this race, my soul must needs be happy. Now again, I found within

ion, though all orders may make some progress, yet it is most perceptible in the lower. It is a process of 'levelling up;' the rear rank 'dressing up,' as it were, close to the front rank. When Hamlet mentions, as something which he had 'for three years taken note of,' that 'the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier,' it was probably intended by Shakspeare as a satire on his own times; but it expressed a principle which is working at all times in which society makes any progress. I believe that a century ago the improvement in most country parishes began with the clergy; and that in those days a rector who chanced to be a gentleman and a scholar found himself superior to his chief parishioners in information and manners, and became a sort of centre of refinement and politeness.

Mr. Austen was a remarkably good-looking man, both in his youth and his old age. During his year of office at Oxford he had been called the 'handsome Proctor;' and at Bath, when more than seventy yea

perfectly how the Psalmist can lift up his voice with strength and gladness, singing, "I put my trust in the Lord at all times, and his hand shall uphold me, and I shall dwell in safety." In the strength of the human hand, too, there is something divine. I am told that the glance of a beloved eye thrills one from a distance; but there is no distance in the touch of a beloved hand. Even the letters I receive are--

Kind letters that betray the heart's deep history, In which we feel the presence of a hand.

It is interesting to observe the differences in the hands of people. They show all kinds of vitality, energy, stillness, and cordiality. I never realized how living the hand is until I saw those chill plaster images in Mr. Hutton's collection of casts. The hand I know in life has the fullness of blood in its veins, and is elastic with spirit. How different dear Mr. Hutton's hand was from its dull, insensate image! To me the cast lacks the very form of the hand. Of the many casts in Mr. Hutton's c

years.

MYSELF: I don't think I shall want them cut out.

HORACE: Humph.

After a pause:

HORACE: There's a lot of good body cord-wood in that oak on the knoll.

MYSELF: Cord-wood! Why, that oak is the treasure of the whole farm, I have never seen a finer one. I could not think of cutting it.

HORACE: It will bring you fifteen or twenty dollars cash in hand.

MYSELF: But I rather have the oak.

HORACE: Humph.

So our conversation continued for some time. I let Horace know that I preferred rail fences, even old ones, to a wire fence, and that I thought a farm should not be too large, else it might keep one away from his friends. And what, I asked, is corn compared with a friend? Oh, I grew really oratorical! I gave it as my opinion that there should be vines around the house (Waste of time, said Horace), and that no farmer should permit anyone to paint medicine advertisements on his barn (Brings you ten dollars a year, said Horace), and that I proposed to