The Maccabaean

(Translated from the Hebrew.)

T is midnight. In a joyful mood, we, ] the young people of the colony, march down Benjamin street. The houses are filled with light and good cheer. The windows have been opened, and a murmur of noises reaches us; the clatter of plates, bowls, knives, forks, and mingled with it the songs of the second part of the Hagada. Here and there a child’s face peers through a window, and flashing eyes speak to us, as if to say: “Our Seder began late, but wait, we shall soon be with you.”

We gather near the colony's well, on the road to Jaffa, and there are awaiting our belated friends. The well is the rendezvous of our group. Peninah has come. Peninah is a girl of sixteen, and she is usually escorted by a number of boys and girls. The boys admire Peninah, and the girls look up to her, half admiringly, half enviously. Her strong contralto voice overtops all others, and when she laughs, her devoted followers join her, and the soft air rings with their happiness.

Abigail has also come. She is the center of another group, and she is, as it were, the friend and the rival of Peninah. They present a sharp contrast. Abigail is tall and slender. Her face is good to look at, but it lacks sweetness and is not regular. She wears her hair in a wreath upon her well-shaped head. She "has a pentrating mind, but her opinions are usually superficial.

Peninah is small and slender; she is not pretty, but she is attractive. Her hair, done up in long, thick braids, is blond. She is clever, but not shrewd. She is considered an intellectual girl. The "why" and the "wherefore" of things interest her.

And these two girls dislike each other, and on their account the young people of the colony are divided into two camps. It seems that the

antagonism of the two parties will last forever.

But on this night, the eve of Pesach, the two parties unite in order to spend the evening to-pether.

We walk down the road east of the colony. The road is crowded with people. Everybody has come out to enjoy the evening. The old people congregate together, the young colonists and their wives are in one group, and the boys and girls and the children form two other groups. The laughter of the children, the singing of the boys and girls, the conversation of the elders, mingled with all the sounds of a Palestinian night, form a beautiful symphony, the song of freedom.

We boys and girls leave the other groups, and reach the path that leads to the olive forest. Then we ascend the hill and sit down.

Above is the gloriously blue sky filled with twinkling stars, and ‚below are the vines, whose buds have opened, and the almond trees that still wear their winter dress, the snow white flowers. A soft wind rustles through the silver leaves of the olive tree and the gentle rustle, mingled with the voices that come to us from the road, is the lullaby oriental nature sings to us on this wonderful night.

And in all hearts springs up a longing to be quiet, and to listen to the mysterious whisper and to breathe the air filled with sweet perfumes and to think of the great problem of life.

"Why are you all so quiet," suddenly Abigail asked. "Let one of the boys of the Mikveh Israel school tell us a story, a true story of something in his life."

There is no reply. Abigail hums an Arabian melody to hide her embarrassment. But one of her party comes to her rescue.