clusive religion in our own day. But during the interval, Judaism was for long centuries an open religion, and very considerable masses of non-Israelitish blood embraced Judaism."—And in vain do we look for the place in which Renan "has empathically denied the existence of the Jewish race."
In short, "The Jews" would have been a real contribution to the knowledge of the Jews, had the author confined himself merely to collecting the material and spared us his own biased opinions or been more chary with them. As it is, the book gives us the impression of science perverted into prejudice.
THE SONG OF HOPE
(Continued from page 68)
like his own. "How was it we did not meet sooner?" he kept thinking.
"I was so glad," she said, "when you let me join in your playing!"
"Glad that—" There was a lump in his throat. He remembered his delight when she permitted him to accompany her.
"Yes," she continued, with moist eyes, "sometimes, it happens that you feel so forsaken and everything seems so sad, so—so— Don't you know what I mean?"
“Just the way I felt!” breathed Max. She opened her eyes wide. “Really? Do you know, I thought then you must have felt as I did?”
"And do you know I thought the same about you and that you were just the girl you are?" he whispered delightedly in turn. Just the faintest answering pressure of the hand to his made him feel in the seventh heaven of ecstasy.
She was pleased. Shyly the smile slanted down again from the changing curve of her lips. They drew closer together and were glad to sit thus for some time without saying a word.
* * * * *
One evening, Max ran up the stairs, hum- mting. In the presence of Mrs. Greenspan his movements were brisk, yet agitated.
While she was serving his supper, he was undecided whether to tell her; and when he had resolved to do so, he was puzzled how to begin.
"Mrs. Greenspan!" he pronounced, at last.
"Yes," smiled the white-haired woman, the habitually troubled look leaving her eyes.
The die was cast! 'Eh—th—the girl—the young lady who plays the piano so well—eh—"
"Oh! Yes! Miss Freedman! How often have I wished it, Mr. Braverman! I suppose you want to become acquainted. How often have I wished you to know her! May I have such a good year as she is a good Jewish child—"
"Mrs. Greenspan, we are engaged."
Mrs. Greenspan sat down suddenly. She opened her mouth but could say nothing. She did not realize at first how two young and aching hearts can single each other out of a mass of East Side complexity and, thro the medium of anything, a piano, a cornet, a Song of Hope, he irresistibly drawn to each other!
“Why— ‘Child’ she was going to say, but remembered in time that he was not her son and might not like being addressed in this way. She felt that she could almost cry.
Max remained red and sheepish, looking down at the floor. Suddenly, he was conscious of two arms flung around his neck as Mrs. Greenspan kissed him heartily, wishing him all manner of good things in fervent Yiddish mingled with Hebrew.
When Mr. and Mrs. Freedman were apprised of all this by Mrs. Greenspan and Max, they were greatly agitated. What was the hurry? Their Deborah was so young, they protested, and so on. They had completely forgotten how, only a few nights before, husband and wife had been discussing her matrimonial prospects with considerable anxiety.
Max notified his father, of course, and the old man sent back a very agitated letter. He was brokenhearted that he could not be present at the marriage of his son. He forbade his sending him any more money. With God's help they would manage at home, somehow.
Two months later, another young couple hopefully joined the tense struggle of life in the great City, as man and wife.