ness one invisible centre of light. The gathering in the cemetery, the donning of the grave-clothes were not the work of impulse nor yet of despair. Conscience and faith, which eschew fear, were to make themselves heard midst the terrors that beset life, and above the deeds of heroism on the one side and of villany on the other. The Jews, passive in the fatal moment, banded together at the bidding of Solomon and the Rabbi, but not to die in despair near the graves of their fathers. Theirs was a higher purpose, the set end which life dictated and which they accepted even with satisfaction. In these last moments there was no place for hatred; there was barely room for any passion. Conscience said: "Speak with God, live with God, and die, die with the declaration of His unity on the lips."
"The Vidoo! the Vidoo!" (the confession of sins (rose from many zealous lips as the girdles were knotted.
"The Vidoo! the Vidoo!" murmured the mothers, rousing the children to wakefulness.
"Confess, aye, confess," exclaimed an old man. "Let the Rabbi lead us."
From out of the darkness came the sweet voice of the Rabbi, calm in its accents. "Children, we shall confess, as our Holy writings teach the dying to proclaim their misdeeds, but let one stand near the gate, and if the enemies of Israel shall pursue us to this place, let him give a signal, so that we may die proclaiming the unity of God." Then turning his eyes upward he uttered in soft accents a short prayer.
"Our God and the God of our fathers, even in the hour of thy wrath when thou hast handed over this people, even this remnant of the people of Israel, to their enemies, we acknowledge thy greatness and our repentance, O Lord. We be-
seech thee hearken unto the confession of dying lips and consider us in the world to come for the sake of our fathers.
"Verily thou art great, just and beneficent, for it is hard to part with dear ones at the bedside of death and in thy greatness and kindness thou hast permitted the darkness of Egypt to cover the earth, so that we shall not witness the agony of death upon the faces of our brethren.
"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away and man is as naught." In His own time will He send the Messiah and rebuild His temple. Then shall there be peace and then shall the whole earth rejoice and the Lord reign for ever and ever, as it is said, "and the Lord shall be King over all the earth on that day; the Lord shall be acknowledged and His name also shall be one."
The whole congregation took up the last verse in the customary strain, knowing that it closed a prayer; but the Rabbi, stretching his hands into the darkness, added, "And there shall be peace. Amen."
In solemn tones the Rabbi recited an alphetical confession. Its terms were well known; it was not a personal but a common confession. It was Israel's account of Israel's possible misdeeds in words that may still be found in the service-books of the Day of Atonement, uttered in a tone of entreaty that may still be heard in the synagogue on that great day. Each man, each woman, every boy and every girl, even the younger children lisped those awful terms which their parents uttered fiercely—with the whole soul resolved in speech.
The murmurs of the voices arose on high and in the darkness it was as though the ghosts had risen from their graves to supplicate God for Israel. Not a word of personality, never a word of fear. Con-