The Maccabaean

THUS ended the first volume, wherein life is usually colored by the glow of Spring, scented with the smell of violets, and thrilled by the songs of birds; wherein there are no regrets while the book is held open, for there is no self-realization. We close the book, and the sun of the Springtime has set.

But see how Joey's brave words have come to naught! The showman has presented a drama unlike that which he had first projected. The shadows of manhood began to darken his life even while boyhood romped the streets. It was a double life. Upon the streets, with the tricks and shindies of the boys he stood among them as a boy, but at home, (and home followed him everywhere) he was immersed in the tribulations of manhood. Even as when he played the Renegade, the spirit of the day had followed him into the woods, so in childhood manhood always dogged his footsteps.

The sun set that evening, the day before school opened, on Joey's boyhood, whatever it may have been. Now he chooses to think it was a real boyhood. As he turned its last pages, he thought the sun would never rise again, but it did. His soul has been tried in the furnace, and he has come forth from the ashes of that other self whose "make-believe" glories fill the first volume.

Well may his mother caress him as he serves that blessed work which is his passion; for who but she, knowing little of his ambition, made his path smooth; stood ever before him as the unwearied soul, uncomplaining, though tasks were heavier than her poor shoulders could bear; never accusing, never uttering the bitter word. She stood at a distance from the battle, but, with that unaccount-

able persistence of personality, she, too, was ever with him. He could not escape her influence.

When one becomes skeptical of the world, one turns to the mothers for assurance that there are yet faithful souls, through whom the world shall be redeemed. When life seems common and unworthy, and one's heart aches to think of the gray years before one, one always find the thought of mother consoling and refreshing.

In one of Joey's scrap-books he has this entry:

"Thou Madonna of the Lowlands, little dost thou know of the intricate road of knowledge, of the strife among unmanly men, of the mean encounters of life; but who can compare with thee for that deeper knowledge which only the pure and noble at heart can comprehend? Thou knowest very little of the life story of thy people, (history began for thee with thy grandfather,) but who abler than thou to succor distress and for knowing thy neighbor's worth. Thou knowest little of books, canst scarcely read anything but thy timeworn prayers; but what availeth books in thy sight who readest the Book of Life, whose author is God, with such sympathy and human delight. Thou knowest nothing of theology, of freedom of will, of the Jewish mission, but who more deeply than thou feelest faith in divine power, dread to do the wrong, and who more faithful in the least of things, and therefore trusting in the greatest of things....."

So the colophon of the first volume, even as its first line, is written in honor of his mother.

It is the womanly influence which predominates in Jewish life. It is to the mothers, rather than to the fathers, one