zen. The government has met that instruction by ruling that the Jew, no matter what his political position, may at once become a Turkish citizen.
a Turkish citizen. The situation remains unaltered. Turkey is open to the Jews, and inferentially Palestine is open. The inevitable policy of the empire, hitherto made the football of European politics, once it has recovered its own autonomy, is to insist upon the united Empire, and with that
view every Zionist is bound to sympathize. If in the course of time, Turkey is convinced that Jewish autonomy does not mean the same as it means to the warlike Albanians or the aggressive Bulgarians, but that it means a cordial co-operation with the best interests of the Turkish empire, we have no doubt about the attitude that will be taken toward a proposition of that nature by the enlightened leaders in Turkish affairs.
TO W. R. HUNTINGTON
(When the memorable parade for the victims of the Kishineff massacre passed Grace Church, its rector, the late Dr. W. R. Huntington, had the church bells peal a dirge, and he himself stood, head bared, at the church portals.)
'Twas a medley crowd that passed in long procession by, Slowly and silently with saddened mien and downcast eye; With banners furled, crape-decked, solemnly they marched along, Compact in serried ranks, a mighty mournful throng. No fife or drum was there, nor song, nor sound was heard, Save for the sighing wind, or when the rustling leaves were stirred. For hearts were bowed in sorrow, with anguish'd grief and pain For the roll of the martyred dead, for friends and kinsmen slain, In a wild revelry of carnage that lighted with a red-blood gleam The hideous mock of a day that seemed but a lurid dream, When the unleash'd hordes of the Czar in the twilight land of the north, With torch, and whip and sword to the tents of Shem went forth And wrought their dark fiendish deeds. Mother and daughter together, And young and old, mowed down like mountain heather, Like sheep to the shambles brought and done to death in shame And nameless torture. And all in the Czar's and in the Christian naine!
Like a slow solemn dirge voicing its woe for the dead,
That living column moved with stately, measured tread. And forth from its ranks uprose a mute uplifted cry, Upborne to the winds and to the sombre darkening sky. To the throne of Heaven itself that God's omnipotent hand Would unsheath His sword of justice upon that dire benighted land. And as through the city's streets it passed there stood At the portal of his shrine, a figure in reverential mood, With head bared to the sky and from his heart instinctively Welled forth a stream of broadest, kindest human sympathy For the sorrowing throng. And from the tower above, pealed forth A requiem for the dead that lay cold in that fateful land of the north. Tribute of a noble spirit! Stranger in creed and race, But brother in soul and heart, he knew the grace Of a divine pity that like a stream runs through Humanity's plain, Watering the hearts of men and making them live again. And now this noble spirit has wing'd his flight above, There to mingle his love at the fountain source of love. Upon his dust, the grave has closed, but ever and ever will dwell The sweet memory of a fragrant deed that ages hence will tell. J. FRIEDLANDER. Hamilton, Ont., August 1.