percception of things in relation to life. We know that the dwarfed, stunted, little natures are due to the lack of the great ennobling forces of life. Co-terminal with the secular higher education must go the still higher religious educa- tımn
In large cities there are Bible Classes enough. The average girl is not reached. There is one organization that can reach the Jewish woman —that is the Council
of Jewish women. Already there are Junior Sections that are doing splendid work. This is only the embryo of what could be made the finest educational movement in this country. The Jewish Publication Society helps immensely by its books. Zionism is bringing back the study of Jewish literature. This must be supplemented by organized circles and schools. Jewish women must work for the religious education of Jewish girls.
Herzl's Funeral
He wished a simple funeral. Burial "last class" is the literal form.
Some of the pomp of the Chevra Kaddisha is already in the house, laurel and other Southern plants are in the room. He rests under palms, which he admired so much. They are potted palms, hot-house plants.
Theodor Herzl! When will the roots of date palms wreathe your remains?
He objected to wreaths—but as they are being sent, they are gathered in an adjoining room. Only a few flowers decorate the coffin. They are the gift of a thankful laborer whom Herzl aided. A young lady, too, sent flowers for her father's friend. Flowers from Zion—they are accepted without a murmur. These go with him to the grave.
The grave—indeed, we dare not weep. Death has its routine and burial its order; there are things to do. The details must be arranged—the district doctor comes—the police themselves—the communal officers desire information—the cemetery directors must make their plans
—the order of the funeral procession must be arranged—for a few moments we forget whose grave we are preparing.
And still messengers arrive with telegrams. They are so numerous that they are being read mechanically and registered. The expressions of sorrow equalize them. What shall move us here, where the widow witlhhholds her tears and the mother mourns.
She stands in the darkened room, by the head of the coffin; her left hand rests where the face of her son lies, her right hand is slightly raised. She, too, does not weep; she simply asks God why this has come to pass. And the woe burns the nerves of all within hearing. "Oh, Thou, my God, I had a beautiful daughter. You took her from me in the bloom of her youth. I sought consolation. As often as I saw a girl married unhappily, I thought you wished to save her from such a sorrowful fate.
"Then you took my husband from me —he was not old, he was still in the prime of life. I found consolation; I