ing increasingly hostile to the Shogunate and increasingly favorable to the Imperial house.

"The fact that Prince Yoshinobu had acted as intermediary between his kinsman, the fourteenth Shogun, and the Imperial Court at Kyoto, made it a delicate matter for him later to accept the Shogunate. Moreover, though he belonged to the Tokugawa family, his branch of the family, the Mito branch, had always insisted upon Imperial supremacy in Japan. However, circumstances compelled him to accept the office. I was greatly disappointed when he did so.

"This occurred two years after I became his retainer. I was now viceminister of his treasury, with the additional duties of keeping track of all modern innovations and supervising the new-style military drill, with rifles, which we were then taking up.

"Shortly after becoming Shogun, Yoshinobu decided to send his younger brother, Akitaké, to France to be educated, and he appointed me a member of the entourage that was to accompany the young man. I was then twentyseven years old.

"We sailed in January, 1867-a party of twenty-five, among whom were a doctor, an officer who went to study artillery, and various other officers of the Shogun's government, besides Akitaké's seven personal attendants.

"For international purposes the Shogun was now called Tycoon, for the word 'shogun' means 'generalissimo' and carries with it no connotation of rulership; whereas 'tycoon' means 'great prince'-and of course it seemed proper enough for a great prince to treat with foreign Powers. As brother of the Tycoon, Akitaké received in Europe the title 'Highness.'

"Matters looked very ominous for the Shogunate at the time we left Japan, but I felt that the best thing for me to do was to go abroad and learn all I I could, with a view to being better able to serve my country when I should return.

"The members of our party wore the Japanese costume, including topknots and two swords. I, however, devised a special elegance for myself. I had heard that the Governor of Saigon, where our ship was to stop, intended to welcome us officially, so I had a dress coat made." The Viscount shook with laughter as he recalled the episode. "It wasn't a dress suit-just the coat. And when we got to Saigon I wore that coat over my Japanese silks, in the daytime!

"Our lack of experience with European ways caused many amusing things to happen. For instance, when we were in the train crossing the Isthmus of Suez-there was no Canal then-one member of the party, unaccustomed to window-glass, threw an orange-peel, expecting it to go out of the window. The peel hit the glass and bounced back. falling into the lap of an official who had come to escort us across the isthmus. We were much embarrassed by that. "Later, in Paris, another absurd thing

occurred. You must understand that in Japan it is customary for guests leaving a house where they have been entertained to wrap up cakes and such things and take them home. One member of our party, who had never seen ice-cream before, attempted this, wrapping the ice-cream in paper and putting it in the front of his kimono. Needless to say, the ice-cream was no longer icecream when he got back to the hotel, and he himself was not very comfortable.

"The Paris Exposition of 1867 was going on when we arrived. When it was over, we traveled through Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, Italy, and England. Originally it was planned that after our official tour we should settle down to study, and I was eager for this time to come. However, it was not long before we received news that the Shogunate had fallen.

"The news was puzzling. I could not gather what was happening in Japan. First I heard that Yoshinobu, as Shogun, had publicly returned full authority to the Emperor, but later came word of the battle of Toba-Fushimi, in which it was said that troops of the Imperial party had defeated troops of

VISCOUNT SHIBUSAWA

"The picture. . . turned out better than I myself had anticipated, for besides the swords and silken robes of old Japan, there may be scen in it a very modern note"

the Shogun. This made it appear that Yoshinobu had played false, first publicly relinquishing the Shogun's power, then changing his mind and fighting to maintain it. These seemingly conflicting acts puzzled me, for I knew that Yoshinobu was a man of the highest honor.

"I had intended to study in France for five years, but there came a messenger from Japan saying that Akitaké had become head of the Mito branch of the Tokugawa family, which made it necessary for us to abandon our plans and return. We sailed from England in December, 1867, reaching Japan in November, 1868, eleven months later.

"I was dumfounded by the change I found. Though I knew that the Shogun Government had fallen, I had not visualized what that would mean. My lord, Yoshinobu, was held prisoner in a house in Suruga. Learning that he was allowed to see his intimate friends and retainers, I journeyed to Suruga, where I had audience with him several times. I found him reticent, and was able to get from him no explanation of the mys terious course he had pursued.

"After having been held prisoner for a year, he was released, but he continued for thirty years to reside in the neighborhood of Suruga, leading a secluded life. Not until thirty-one years after his resignation of the Shogunate did he come to Tokyo. Four years after that the Emperor created him a prince of the new régime. This showed pretty clearly that the Emperor did not mistrust him.

"For twenty years after my return to Japan I was unable to get at the bottom of this matter. Meanwhile the question was constantly discussed. Those hostile to Yoshinobu insisted that he had not acted with sincerity. It was contended that the burdens connected with the opening of foreign relations had led him to lay down the Shogunate, but that later he changed his mind and fought to retain it. On the face of it, that seemed true. Yoshinobu was called a coward

and a traitor, and was severely criticised for having retired, personally, from the battle of Toba-Fushimi.

"On the other hand, those who supported Yoshinobu asserted that he had acted logically and wisely; that he had seen that his Government was going to fall, and had been entirely honest in surrendering the Shogunate prior to the battle. They said he had not desired battle, but had set out for Kyoto to see the Emperor with a view to arranging details, especially with regard to the future welfare of his retainers. But when a great lord traveled in those times he traveled with an army; when the men of Choshu and Satsuma learned that Yoshinobu was moving toward Kyoto with his soldiers, they came out and attacked him, believing, or pretending to believe, that he came on a hostile errand.

"At this time the Emperor was but seventeen years of age and the Government was in the hands of Elder Statesmen of the Imperial Party. The Em

peror himself probably had no idea on what errand Yoshinobu was approaching Kyoto; but the Elder Statesmen, belonging as they did to clans hostile to the Shogunate, sent out troops.

"Many years passed before the truth of the matter began to become clear. At last, when the .old wounds were pretty well healed, I undertook the compilation of a history of Yoshinobu's life and times. Finally, I asked him pointblank about the events connected with his resignation and the subsequent battle. He told me that he had indeed started to Kyoto on a peaceful errand, but that when the forces sent out by the great clansmen of the Imperial Party were met, he could not control his own men. He had neither sought nor desired any such conflict. Therefore, feeling that his highest duty was to the Emperor, he himself withdrew from the battle, taking no part in it, and returned whence he had come, going into retirement. He knew of course that the battle would put him in a false light, and he decided that the wisest and most honorable course for him to pursue was to show by his life in retirement his absolute submission to the Emperor.

"In order fully to appreciate why Yoshinobu was so ready to lay down his power the old Japanese doctrine of loyalty to the throne must be fully grasped. This loyalty amounts to a religion, and permeates the whole life of Japan. That is why the Shoguns, who for so many centuries ruled Japan, never attempted to usurp Imperial rank, but were satisfied, while usurping the power, to preserve the form of governing always as vice-regents.

"It is my personal belief that when Yoshinobu Tokugawa accepted the Shogunate despite the opposition of his trusted retainers, he did so with the full

intention of restoring to the Imperial house its rightful power. I used to ask him about this, and, while he never admitted it, he never denied it. That was characteristic of him. He was the most modest and self-effacing of men-the last man who would have claimed for himself the credit for performing a self

sacrificing and heroic act of patriotism. For him the performance of the act was sufficient."

TH

THROUGHOUT my talk with Viscount Shibusawa I felt in him the passionate loyalty of the retainer to his lord. Where I had wished for reminiscences of a more personal nature, the Viscount, I could see, thought of himself first of all in his relation to the family of Prince Yoshinobu, the last Shogun, whose retainer he was. He was not interested in telling me of his own career, but he was profoundly interested in seeing that I, being a writer, should understand the relationship of Prince Yoshinobu to the Imperial restoration. His attitude made me think of that of an old gentleman, now dead and gone, who had been the adjutant of Robert E. Lee, and who loved Lee and loved to talk about him. When I interviewed him, it was the same. I could induce him to talk but little of his own experiences. It was all Lee.

The loyalty of the retainer to the family of his lord is also to be seen in the relationship between the Viscount and young Prince Keikyu Tokugawa, son of Prince Yoshinobu. -After the death of the father the Viscount continued to act as adviser to the son. He became his chief councilor, and when, a few years since, he resigned from the Board of Directors of the First National Bank of Japan-the bank which he founded five years after the restoration -it was young Prince Tokugawa who succeeded to the empty chair.

The Prince, who is a member of the House of Peers, is known in the United States, having last come here during the war as representative of the Japanese Red Cross.

ISCOUNT SHIBUSAWA is also a figure not unfamiliar to Americans, having visited this country several times. I am indebted to him for an anecdote illustrative of the prodigious memory of President Roosevelt.

"Eighteen years ago," he said, "when Mr. Roosevelt was President, I called upon him at the White House. We had

a pleasant talk. He complimented the behavior of the Japanese troops in the Boxer trouble, saying that they were not only brave but orderly and well disciplined. Then he spoke with admiration of the art of Japan.

"I said to him: 'Mr. President, I am only a banker, and I regret to say that in my country banking is not yet so highly developed as is art.'

'Perhaps it will be,' he replied, 'by the time we meet again.'

"Thirteen years later, when I called upon him at his home at Oyster Bay, he took up the conversation where we had left off.

""The last time I saw you,' he said, 'I did not ask you about banking in Japan. Now I want you to tell me all about it.'"

A

s I was leaving the bungalow in the garden late in the afternoon of the second day spent in interviewing the Viscount, the thought came to me that probably I should never again talk with a man who had lived through such transitions. I wanted a souvenir, and I wished it to be something emblematic of the changes witnessed by those shrewd, humorous old eyes.

Therefore, not without some hesitation, I asked if he would be so kind as to put on his two samurai swords and let me take his photograph.

He despatched a servant, who presently returned from the house bearing the swords. The Viscount tucked them through his sash, and I snapped the shutter, hoping fervently that the late afternoon light would prove to have been adequate.

As the reader may see for himself, the picture turned out well. Indeed, it turned out better than I myself had anticipated, for besides the swords and silken robes of Old Japan, there may be seen in it a very modern note.

It was the Viscount's grandson who called attention to that when I showed him the photograph.

"Yes," he said, with a smile, "you have there the swords of Old Japan. But the watchchain-that is an anachronism."

E

NGLAND, or, to be more correct,

the United Kingdom, is not the least democratic country in the world. Some think, indeed, that it has far more freedom than the United States. But here democracy seems not to clash with royalty.

King George of course is altogether harmless to those who gladly call themselves his subjects. He earns his salary, too, by honest work-such work as few of those who rank as laboring folk would like to shoulder. And there are

BY CHARLES HENRY MELTZER times when, in the good old way, he gives his people a great deal of pleasure by forming part of such right royal shows as I have seen here in the past few days.

There was a tendency some years ago to slight him as a royal figurehead. But, though less fond of self-assertion than his regretted father, Edward, and his still honored grandmother, he has won wide respect, and even love, by his good sense and simple modesty.

One day last week I saw him very

closely as he rode from his palace to present new colors to three of the crack regiments of the Guards. He does not shine much when astride a horse; for he is more at home on deck at sea than in what seems to him the irksome saddle. Yet in his scarlet uniform he looked a King, despite his round back and his awkward air. Behind him rode the young Prince, bright as ever, and, side by side with him, the Duke of Connaught. The Guards, in their red bravery, dazzled one. They took one back

to the dead pre-war times, when they were viewed as only rare toy soldiers.

A few days later the King went in state to the inauguration of some big new docks. He did not ride; he graced the Royal Barge-an institution that goes back for ages.

And just before that London had had the delight of watching the tall, manly Belgian King drive with amazing pomp and pageantry to the Guildhall. That was a show of sorts not to be missed, a grand revival of impressive splendor. The state coach drawn by six right royal steeds was all ablaze with gold and scarlet liveries of the most gorgeous kind. The outriders were stunning. They were ripping. The rich gold of the cocked hats worn by the red flunkeys who sat so silent and majestic behind the state carriages in the procession charmed the eye. But best of all, perhaps, were the red Guards who escorted Albert, with flashing breastplates, white plumes, and long sabers. Their coalblack mounts made an imposing sight. There was no snobbery in the attitude of the crowds which watched the pageant. I feel quite sure New Yorkers would have thrilled much more than they did if they had witnessed such a spectacle. Faint cheers, hats raised, and brief words of approval. And then the Belgian monarch swept on eastward.

To Londoners, to Englishmen at large, such shows are welcome. They are not looked upon as challenges to democrats. They are just shows, survivals of traditions. The man and woman in the

street know well that they, and not the Kings and Queens, rule England. Lloyd George may cling to power. No doubt he does. But if the people say so-o'ut he goes. Free speech is freer here than in New York. The people do not choose their Kings. But they do choose their Premiers. Besides, their Kings, you see, now do no harm. At moments, as was proved by the King's call for pea ce in Ireland and by his intervention still more lately to avert a misunderstanding with regard to the Disarmames.t Conference, they may do good.

Traditions. They die hard here, if they die. They work in various ways, too, some against the King, though not in ways which need distress hirn greatly. For instance, look at what has just been happening. The visit of the King and Queen to the strange Channel Islands, where, though they have formed part of the United Kingdom for ages, the French tongue and the customs of a thousand years are still kept up. It was in French that George V, who in the long Norman is'es ranks as a Duke, replied to the welcome of his Guernsey and Jersey subjects. The cry which greeted him was. "Vive le Roi!" The seigneurs of the isles all did him honor. But they preserved their ancient claims to independence as they cheered their nominal ruler. "Long live the King, our Duke!" was the formula with which they expressed their loyalty. The banner unfurled in the Assembly Chamber at St. Helier's, the capital of Jersey, bore the device of the old Duchy of Nor

From the London "Daily Mirror"

Wide World Photos
KING GEORGE VAND QUEEN MARY WATCHING
THE SHORES OF IRELAND RECEDE AS

THEIR YACHT LEAVES BELFAST "Besides, their kings, you see, now do no harm. At moments, as was proved by the King's call for peace in Ireland,... they may do good" mandy-three lions upon a scarlet ground. It is said not to have been displayed since the Coronation of King George III. The Jerseyites, like the Guernseyites (but unlike our Jerseyites), love and pay homage to the ancient ways and glories. And, who knows, may it not be to the laxity of their millennial bonds that George owes that loyalty?

In days to come, perhaps-I say, perhaps it is conceivable that the distressful Isle of Erin may welcome future Kings of England just as heartily, and just as honestly, as Guernsey and Jersey. But much depends on the momentous meeting which, as I write, is taking place in Downing Street between Lloyd George, who, with the Parliament, now really rules the United Kingdom, and De Valera, who is called the Irish President.

Will peace come of that meeting, as all pray? Or will peace fade away like one of the mirages which have within the present week been seen in England?

The other day, close to Trafalgar Square, I saw a crowd of people crouching near the ground. The eyes of all were turned toward the Mall, at the far end of which appeared the royal palace. The King and Queen were absent, in the Channel. The crowd could not be waiting to acclaim them. The autos and the busses dashed along, much to the peril of the crouching, kneeling 1

dreds. Yet no one moved. The people still stared strangely in the direction of the palace. I asked a man what it all could mean.

"Mean, sir?" said he. "Why it means

a mirage. If you'll just get down on your knees like them, you'll see a river rippling right across the Mall."

And they did see it, 'hough my eyes were blind. Just now most are seeing peace in Ireland.

London, July 14, 1921.

D

EAR Mr. Vachel Lindsay:

This is to thank you for having written that delightful whimsical song of yours, "The Daniel Jazz." Truly I do not know just where to pour my blessing-on Daniel or on the jazz.. To be sure it is the prophet who should be blessed; but alas! what were the prophet to me without your jazz?

I am the wife of a rabbi-a rabbi ordained in heaven. That is really his cardinal failing-he is too good for the profession. With that he has a few minor faults-he is very modest, knows his shortcoming, and is always apologizing for it to our relatives. Whenever they chide him, he says: "I know, I know, I'm quite a misfit in the ministry-as out of place as the Lord himself would be there."

As for our congregation, they pay him a salary of ceaseless tribulation. Of course they are perfect gentlemenonly a little distrustful and suspicious. and I do believe they suspect my husband of taking his profession seriously, of really being religious. Besides, they surmise that he actually expects them to live up to his preachments-they sort of suspect that only. I dare not think what might happen should they be convinced of it.

I suppose you know that the Jewish people gave the world a Bible-that is, one meddlesome Jew long ago committed that atrocity, and I know that the world never forgave him for it, and I also know that in this generation have arisen a tribe of Hebrews who are trying most heroically to live down that wrong perpetrated by our forefather Moses. Yes, sir, any rabbi who is ready to disclaim the Scriptures to-day buys himself a lifelong job in some temples. But what cares my husband for a job? Now the gentlemen of our temple are not without their attributes-they are polite and, as they call themselves, broad and liberal. They allowed my husband three means by which to escape trouble: either to read only such portions of the Bible as they agreed with; or, if he read the others, to interpret them as they, busy, unlettered, pleasure-mad business men on the Temple Board, saw fit; or, best of all, to banish the Scriptures from the temple altogether. Now, even my nearest and dearest relatives say that for a congregation to offer a minister three ways to get out of trouble is unheard-of magnanimity.

But my husband, he refused every offer, and, defying all these powerful gentlemen who hold all the means of our life in their hands, not to speak of honor, fame, and position, he went over

to the side of God, and in return God put him right back into the hands of his own enemies. In all the years as a minister's wife I have not once found the Lord saying as much as "I thank you" to an ally of his. But of course my husband says that God is no politician to sit in heaven dealing out favors for your vote; nevertheless I hold that he ought to show a little more appreciation for his saints, don't you?

A new era of distress was ushered in upon us when my reverend husband took it into his head one Sabbath morning to expound before the congregation the Ten Commandments. He opened such a fiery exposition on those ten dreadful, forbiddances and led the congregation in his own subtle, poetic way through such an artful, mazy labyrinth of "Do's and Don'ts" which made those ten awful treasures become as fragile and breakable as life itself. Oh, our poor parishioners, how their souls were caught like poisoned rabbits in a trap; how they tossed about in frantic despair, for with every move and turn and wriggle they found themselves smashing, smashing the Commandments. And I looked on-looked on in pity, turned my eyes away-souls in travail are a sight only for the Almighty.

Do you wonder, then, Mr. Lindsay, that the congregation fled from the temple that day to the club-house, which is just next door and serves as a powerful antidote to the pulpit preachings?

Now, instead of doing penance and giving them the next Sabbath a mild, syrupy little sermon with a dash of dope in it to take off the edge of pain from their consciences, and thus put himself in their grace again, he opened with a chapter of Isaiah and spoke on love and peace. And right there in the synagogue they branded him as a Hun. Now, tell me, Mr. Lindsay, you are a man of the world, but is there really any kinship between the love and peace of the mild, honeyed Messianic days of which Isaiah day-dreamed and Hurism, whether made in Germany or else where?

Then came forth the pillars, the vertebræ, of our community with a new project: "Fling all religion out of the pulpit, rabbi," they said, "and, for God's sake, talk on Americanism. It makes a better showing before our Christian neighbors."

My priest-husband smiled. "There is more religion in Americanism than these gentlemen bargain for," he said to me. The following Sabbath he opened his discourse with a reading. Suddenly I became aware of an epi

demic of fidgeting in God's house; then a few of our higher-ups began taking out and consulting their watches (usually a grave symptom), there was a nervous scraping of feet, trustees were exchanging glances-the reading went on; an officer of the temple was rising to his feet, some one shook his fist in the minister's face-my husband went on with his reading; then a cry from the most dignified parishioner. Wondering, the rabbi looked up from the book-then what a noise! A hundred men and women in one voice were shouting, calling their minister names-"Communist, Bolshevik, Anarchist!" The rabbi was trying to get in a word-impossible; pandemonium; then some one put out the lights-the ladies screamed-the lights went up again; now all is quiet; a little innocent boy. one of the rabbi's pupils, mounts the choir loft. "Come down here, Edward!" his father calls up. The boy shouts down: "Shut up, you, everybody; and you, too, daddy. Don't you know what the rabbi was reciting there? The Declaration of Independence, the American Declaration of Independence, you bunch of greenhorns!"

In silence the pew magnates resumed the services, hiding their shamed and long noses in the prayer-books.

The leaders came with a new project. "Rabbi, we are tired of prayers, and especially of sermons; give us a treat for a while, Doctor. We'll pay you your salary regularly, we'll even increase it; we'll do everything for you if you'll treat us decently. Come on, Doc, close the Bible and let us shut up the temple for a few months. We'll treat you to a trip to Miami, and if we need you to come down to marry or bury one of us, we'll wire you. Isn't that a fair offer, Doc?"

Our family-my husband's folks and mine said that this was the best business proposition ever made to any man; they said it was a sure sign of a happier era when a higher salary is offered for less labors. But my reverend husband-he denounced this proposal as undignified and dishonorable. Dignity and honor is all that we ever feast on.

It seemed for a while as if our congregation's genius for giving their pastor trouble had suddenly given out. ort of spiritually evaporated. Everylody was smiling on us, and my husband was asking himself what sin he had committed. Then one day he rushed jubilantly into the house. "I am not so bad after all, Molly," he cried; "they're afte me again."

"I there really anything under or

above the heavens for which they can find fault with you now?" I queried.

"Yes, wife, they say I'm not American enough. I talk too much about Abraham Lincoln, they tell me. I'm always quoting him and extolling his virtues; they are beginning to fear he may have been a Hebrew himself, and so are losing all respect for him."

With so many sins on the part of my husband, the parting had to come at last. We were going away, and they were giving us a farewell banquet.

To me they were all pussy-willow politeness. They tried to show me every sort of kitten-ear-silk kindness you can think of. They sent me giftscandies, puddings, and baskets of fruit. I always look for a knife with their gifts; no, not only a knife to cut the cake and peel the fruit with-I always fear there is a blade hidden somewhere for their rabbi's side.

And yet this is not true altogether. There are some who really send us gifts out of the kindness of their hearts, and but for the very instant when they open their purses to pay the bill and, involuntarily, some stray wish leaps into their hearts, "Let them choke with my cake and get spasms from my fish!" they really send them to us as tokens of their love.

No, this too is not altogether so. There are gifts that actually come unescorted of daggers and curses. They are little sin-offerings of guilty parish ioners. Many a pot of hyacinths, or an apron for the baby, or tie for my husband, cheering and useful to us, are ointment and balm to the conscience of some sinful member. For instance, dashing Alice never fails to outfit our children in shoes and stockings each time she is ready to run off with a new husband. Alice has great faith in luck, and the stockings and shoes (though they make me sad when they come) to her are a sort of sacrifice offered through us to her god. I do pray that Alice takes now a long, long vacation in this burying and marrying business, even though my children may have to go unshod for ever so long.

But no, I must not resume my story until I round up this statement to make it whole and true. Sometimes, in a long, long while, some one almost shamefacedly leaves a gift: a glass of prunes, a bag of ripe tomatoes, a bell for the baby-little trifles that come with a blessing from a whole heart, and therefore are no trifles to us.

But now to my story. They tried to make that banquet a very enjoyable affair. (I suppose it is that conscience business.) Flowers, toasts, music, and plenty to eat. Congregations are like the summer resort boarding-houses that give you a good dinner when you arrive and a grand dinner when you leave, sandwiched in with the starvation, heartache, and abuse of the time intervening.

At that farewell party a little girl stood up to recite your "Daniel Jazz.” She had chosen the piece for its second name, you may be sure, for one of the pillars of our congregation has a

maxim which is not very original, "Jazz can put snap and punch and pep even into the Psalms;" and he usually illustrates this saying of his with a sanctimonious smile, for, after all, who but a churchman would think of referring to the Psalms at all?

"Darius the Mede was a king and a wonder." The little girl told us all about his pride and the bad lions he kept in his monstrous den, and about Daniel, who was the chief hired man in the land, about his playing the jazz band and whitewashing the cellar and shoveling in the coal, and particularly about that freakish hobby of his, ever praying, "Lord, save my soul, Lord, save my soul!" And every time the little miss would drone out this prayer the congregation, in one sweeping, goodnatured, humoring, kindly, patronizing smile, turned its eye upon my husband and the banquet hall rang with shouts of laughter. So like this unsuccessful divine of theirs!

My husband smiled back and nodded his head approvingly; he was really very happy to see a prophet so popular with the congregation. She told us in your words all about that ancient aristocracy-Ahab and Elisha and Cain and Pharaoh-coming to tea, Meshach and Abednego dropping in for a chat, all about St. Peter, Belsebub, Judas, and the whole ancient royal bunch of them. And Daniel kept a-praying, "Lord, save my soul!" and we all laughed and made merry over it.

So far it was all pure fun. And now began our little soul drama. You remember your words about Daniel's sweetheart and mother, how they were good and meek:

They washed and ironed for Darius
every week.

One Thursday he met them as usual
at the door,

Paid them their wages but acted sore. He said: "Your Daniel is a dead little pigeon.

He's a good hard worker, but he talks religion."

There was a guilty glance in my reverend husband's direction. And when the child told us how the emperor put the good prophet Daniel in a lion's cage and, despite the cries and prayers and entreaties of Daniel's sweetheart and mother, the king set the lions on the prophet and roared to them:

"Bite Daniel, bite Daniel,
Bite him, bite him, bite him."
And the lions roared-
"We want Daniel, Daniel, Daniel."

It was all said in a minute or two, but that minute or so was long and heavy with dramatic fire. I could see the magnates of our temple listening with drooping eyes and noses, and half stealthily casting a look in their rabbi's direction. "Bite Daniel, bite him, bite him, bite him!" Had they not bitten just so into the heart of a pure Daniel? And why? And wherefore? Because he was too zealous for the sake of the Lord? I could hear their quick, uneasy breathing. I could read the words that flashed

on the electric-lit minds of theirsWhat if this poor, struggling, humble pastor of theirs be really a true, Godinspired saint, a modern prophet?

And his tender sweetheart prayed, "Send Gabriel, send Gabriel!" And Gabriel did chain the lions down, and Daniel did get out of the den, and, what is more (oh, thanks especially for this. Mr. Lindsay), "Darius gave him his job again."

There was a genuine shout of joy from the innocent children, who were entirely unaware of the plots and plans weaving about them in the heart of holiness. The little miss declaimed:

"And he gave him his job again.

And he gave him his job again." And all the children clapped their hands in honest glee and joined in the chorus:

"And he gave him his job again. And he gave him his job again." It seemed to me that the officers of God's house looked somewhat angry, disappointed. Whom were they angry with-Darius the heathen, the ancient barbarian? And why? For giving Daniel back his job?

I couldn't eat my dessert, wondering why the trustees of God's prayer-house had suddenly disappeared. But soon they came filing back, and the chairman made a speech. "Rabbi," he said "in the name of the officers and members of this temple, I pray you to forgive us the wrong we have done you, and to remain the guide and counselor of our souls."

No, sir, these twentieth-century polite gentlemen would not let a drunken, antiquated barbarian like Darius outshine them in humaneness and justice; besides, Jews are famous for delicate consciences.

Now you see why Daniel had to go through all those trials-to serve, like the law-book cases, as a merciful precedent for my husband. But really, without the jazz all his distress and the king's fitful magnanimities were of no avail-it was the jazz that gave prestige to the prophet.

Do you wonder now why I thank you? Think of it-for another whole year my children shall not know of hunger, winter will not find them cold, nor sickness without medicine! When we came home from that happy farewellstay party, I fell upon my husband's neck, and, weeping for joy, told him this.

He beamed on me in his dreamy, affectionate way, and said: "Yes, yes, I had forgotten that side of it, Molly, dear. But think, sweetheart, how many texts in the Bible I have not yet had occasion to preach on! Another year gives me at least fifty Sabbaths!"

Oh, what does it matter, Mr. Lindsay, even if my joy be not as high and as exalted as his? I am nevertheless as grateful.

With honest thanks, believe me,
Most cordially,

MOLLY AMOS