RET iporttpnne patton Wh il il nu AuVuS esha dO A: : } | ' ' : : ul ! : }+ Kis eer To ae aes ioe PT Seer | . } t ne eee en ee ew 6 oh twine nip rm ete tl sme ell eat paa me ae ati«BR Sk os hell Bk | | | / { | : | :——— THE FEET OF THE MESSENGERal a i ll ll ll ll ll | | | : | | | | / | : |The Feet of the Messenger By YEHOASH [SOLOMON BLOOMGARDEN] TRANSLATED FROM THE YIDDISH BY ISAAC GOLDBERG PHILADELPHIA THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 1923 Se ee op ee em eer eerCopyright, 1923, by Tue JEWwisH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA | / t : | | .How beautiful upon the mountains Are the feet of the messenger... —— [saan a2. @; 5 Ti + Ahn Sap Bn psa ntlllBi HA iti ui eth Ai pai fl lh hs | ' . | : i / ;CONTENTS STVET FE RGRREDISEERTIOON, ofa 'o's ccc nbd en Go wn Walp ehbnelehate ik Sie}eie pi ofeKe 9 GINFEOARD oc ook o coud oo oe coin wap ec Orde nimbeip ie ete wile shew a viene 11 SUNEX RRNA STS LEAP sel te wah a. 0h b, ocein ol nRIEC IE SiR IR RICE Ip MTU LRR EDN eta7n is 24 STRUT aly cee win 0! iu ele ont unr Okina Int Sint ater ch tates 28 Pa ZT TATE rece wie Wie cn a ob ote o.oo ti clegehsbaiieetwttak.steletp einpulbl Siar 34 Sh CTRESS AND MAID’... ee es nk bee ewe tlese w tem ame b 37 SSS Ore ernie iC ota aac A+ CHTINES CELE 1D ASIEEO cas 5 wis ok Clo bo es om Gldee phe ee IeIS ee dere ole 51 BATTEDING © bookie Co hiv ck 6 aed. 8 koe a ttt ach ons Ree sonar te 57 TURSPROS chil c Glalc Wo 63 so Grint a OP bee Levene Gunniiare bhai kee WU TID S WATTS os, ck y= ws aid bs buy cnt o Rati Mier eee amare ere 2 OO PRONE erarree gh kc arse og vee Dede ele noe ele winiah ne eeeie olern twins 72 A CHANGE: OF RESIDENCE. .<.-scnccctoccsse ‘ewe sterile adhe 78 SRTSTIOOPMOUE fof 0.0 Gk cu 6 v's bes we malvneele Miegele s stutter wb eieie a: sim fe 84 ATRTAMORPHOGES «ic. cdc cc a d's be mealnaat e rie mini e nina iel a eh 90 COUNTRYMEN: oo doco sc c/d 00. Soup apace artic Boles in tacal eee ee rere 96 SOUR DOK RAIL MOHAMR "’.. . «2 once patae minis oie chinese ein are 104 TON EM ir Sak Bice kc 0 Sele'b % 0 wp Winseietn, Pe erg ataiR engin) et Udeie orem one 108 IGOMING AND GIGING © ccc ov oo bbb Gs Back te webs eatin n 4 a inhs ean 119 Ted TAND'OR THE SHALOMS si. +o cer sind ole pip bonis ain ate 123 Pipa RRLATIONS gi. ie a occa o dicleve cha wre Waean Cale vine onan Serena 129 PESRCOND VISIT: © 50 cc a.o cia ce costes ab aiole dinis (ssh haa a Pye ate 135 SVT IT SS TRAININGS a7. i wie ai.8 o sun te we oe ded obwie mit) oon Bie heiC Ri io eiee nn 141 PIETRO EVA GIGA TE cco oro'y Gibic ais 0 4.6 Sinha npuseteinr a oy auvie ayo ahaa V Ler age Wore ats 147 ISAT Ye AEST SEMA 6), Sic s o abs sacs eet bone ta ete ate aiters si nleis oieUNEP ERGVIAY ACK, -... oo ck eae: [oA DR WISH OTATE’'....... ic AMDOUT HA-MOSHEVOT”.........1.... . Ce 193 PAMISTABRE ¢ oc. . oes ; ee PIRERUANIDSDMRER ©... 4,1. ace in ks ek 3 ee SAE AG ee oe co 5 oe oe ne ee MIBREOR iret Che cs Pe Re Bt ee ee 221 A DELEGATION.... FROM THE MOUNT oF OLIVES... Lehi hie oP kc iS ee ee EN ROUTE..... bo 4 nN KIRIATH ARBA bo To ~ SOM AVATE (7 ck re 257 AFTER THE DROUGHT oe Ce ce See ees ee IDARKAIDAYS: ....: >... sa oat ae . 267 A LETTER ipo apa i eet ee ee ee . 27 rc ne aia amine BOINIGHTION WIG: *..... ) PAT ee Ot ee yh ~ LEHITRAOTH BE-ERETZ YISROEL”’............ te ee ES STAR SCAND STRIPES 5 6 AL seTHE REDEMPTION For a number of years a fond, beautiful dream had been weaving in my thoughts. In a hidden crevice of the soul a seed had taken root and wasquietly, modest- ly burgeoning. Amid the confusion and the tumult of a hundred interests, of labors and ambitions, that seed had remained unobserved. Yet often, in reposeful moments a breath would arise, wafting a sweet frag- rance into my face, intoxicating, filling the spirit with sorrow and boundless yearning. The day arrived when the plant burst all its buds and blossomed forth, spreading and unfolding and en- lacing into itself all my thoughts and my most hidden desires. And from that day Eretz Yisroel became for mea luminuousisland beckoning at theend of along, dark journey. Everything good, bright, and beautiful was there upon that island, and I must reach it as soon as possible. Should I ever reach it, all doubts would be resolved, all queries answered, all darknesses illumin- ated. A new life would begin. A new spring, a new youth, with new, firm beliefs. As soon as I had resolved upon fulfilling the dream of years, I was thrilled with such a festive mood as I had not felt for long, similar to that holiday spirit which as a child I felt on the eve of Pesah, when I ac- companied my father to the synagogue, where all the lamps were lighted and every nook and cranny was bright and tidy, and before my childish thoughts would— A eee Ms ay ; 1 : lie Sale A ie BG Ae 10 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER hover the vision of two feast-nights followed by a long, long Passover. I was impatient, and suffered greatly from that impatience. I wanted to wake up one fine morning, in some mir- aculous manner, and find myself in Eretz Yisroel, in the land of sunshine, as I had begun to call it betimes, even before I had set eyes uponat. The island of light beamed and beckoned from afar, and I began to count the weeks, the days, the hours. I set about preparing for the voyage. And regardless of the fact that several months must elapse before my departure, I sped preparations with as much haste and impetuousness as if I were leaving the very next day. TT ee | eeON BOARD The gangplank was raised and between the huge iron Leviathan and the stout beams of the pier the water began to seethe and froth. The vessel emitted a long frightful roar that made the very railings quiver. All at once—a lurch. The dock, with its hundreds of persons, waving their hats and handkerchiefs, began to recede. In one corner stood my friends in a group, and as the ship veered and they could no longer see me, they dashed for the outermost edge, so that they might catch a last glimpse. I could see them running, and felt as if they were rushing to seize me and carry me off the ship and then realized that it was too late. ‘Never in my life shall I behold those persons and that dock again. Never.” My heart began to sink, as if oppressed by a night- mare, and my eyes grew dim. Somewhere in the city of Sarajevo, in the Province of Bosnia, a young, impulsive patriot was planning my return—while planning the assassination of the Austrian crown prince that was to bring’on the world- war and later to bring me back, on the United States warship ‘“Tennessee’’, from Jaffa to Alexandria. But in darkness works the hand that pilots the wheels of fate, and for the moment I beheld slowly disappear- ing the land that had been my home for the past twenty-three years.2 = = | <4 ee + . . . i : ‘ i# anata na teint a _ - eel nai hattiilitinasieen tedden eee 3 i cl al ll a a nl ll i a Ras la ll Sed hl Ritibed Smee & Bd 12 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER Not a trace of the dock was any longer visible. I went into my cabin. All at once I realized how strong were the bonds which linked me to my adopted home. I had grown to love her prairies and her mountains, her lakes and her vast spaces, her gigantic pioneer-spirit, her breadth and her freedom. I felt proud that I was one of her citizens—her free citizens—every one of them a king by grace of his own strength and his own will. Precious home, that had grown so dear to me! I will think often of you, and will be proud of the twenty- three years during which I trod your free soil, and breathed your free air. I will recall you with love, and bless you, and long for you, but never shall my eyes behold you again. Through a hundred generations a chain has been formed, and it draws me to a far-off, tiny land. A hundred generations callin my veins and I must answer their summons—but never will I forget you. Perhaps the bracing winds of your prairies have awakened the dead generations in my blood. Perhaps the majestic peaks of your snow-capped mountains have urged and heartened me to answer the call— who knows? When I returned to the deck, only a grayish strip could be made out on the horizon—the last sight of land, soon to vanish. The deck was crowded with couples and individuals who were strolling hither and thither, laughing and chatting. Cold silvery glints sparkled from the sun-ON BOARD 13 spattered waves, and the vessel sped on like a huge swimming bird. A liverieé servant appeared at one of the doors, and blew upon a bugle a sort of military signal—din- ner-time. We entered the dining-saloon. The steward had placed upon our table the flowers that friends had brought or sent to our cabin, All the tables were bedecked uni- formly. Flowers cannot endure the sea, and every- body eagerly inhales their fragrance while it lasts. We have now been on the sea for two days. One by one the bouquets disappear from the tables. Many tables are but half set. The gloom of the bugle that summons to meals grows deeper each time. We now live at the mercy of the ocean. The steward brought me a pleasant surprise—a Marconigram from New York, and later another from Canada. A hearty hand-clasp across. the waves. The weather is unsettled and dreary. I gaze far out and see the waves rise and fall, I im- agine all manner of things. Now I behold the ruins of a great city washed away by a flood. I can make out the shattered houses, the roofs and the crumbling walls, flowing endlessly on. There comes an entire street that has collapsed, and behind it another and yet another. A white spot. And the spot grows into a locomo- tive, whose smoke curls behind a long train of coaches. A high wave: isn’t that the Woolworth Tower of New York?= S nenaiaiaetie ania eee — — ~ ce aid it eek 2 i he be oth tt cel ’ i bho ee eee 14 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER In an instant everything has vanished. The ocean is reality. The land is a mirage. Every- thing that is firm and fixed is an illusion. The world and life are a flux and a change. And the sea is the symbol of that flux and change. The last sea-gulls have disappeared. But we are not totally severed from the land. Every morning a newspaper is issued on board, and electric messengers of the air gather news for us from every corner of the world on land and sea. Save my family, B. and his wife, I know nobody on board. And it looks as if this isolation will last for the rest of the voyage. The passengers are for the most part newly-made millionaires or near-millionaires, who are travelling to Italy or Egypt, bent upon pleasure. Their bearing is by no means unpretending—nothing is more comical than an American parvenu trying to be—as Heine says—“‘aristokraetzig.”’ Perhaps this exhibition of snobbery is due to the fact that we are upon an English vessel. I cannot help thinking that an American has too strong a sense of humor to be a snob without self-derision. Many of the passengers are deeply engrossed in their Baedekers, repeating to themselves, for the tenth time, that ‘‘filetto al burro’’ means beefsteak, and that so innocent a thing as veal-cutlet is called ‘‘braciola di vitello’’. The cafe is attractive and comfortable. Elderly and young ‘sports’’ sit there, drinking, smoking, and play-ON BOARD 15 ing divers games. All try in every way possible to kill time. There are several passengers whom I recognize as “Sons of the Covenant’’. By no means do they care to show this, although they know quite well that we are Jews. That secret must have been revealed to them, if not by my nose, at least by my speech, for with B., who does not know English, I speak Yiddish exclusively. At times, when we wish for a strictly private exchange of views, we speak Hebrew. Our Hebrew brought us the acquaintance of one who had as little in common as we with the other passen- gers. He was a Methodist missionary, a tall, gaunt fellow with black side-whiskers and large blue spec- tacles. He had caught a word or two of our conversa- tion, and waxed quite enthusiastic. Evidently he had not forgotten how profusely he had sweated at the examination upon the two verses of the Psalms as- signed to him, and he could not cease marvelling at the ease with which we spoke so difficult a language. When, later, I arrived at Tel-Aviv, I discovered, much to my consternation, that not all people were such appreciative critics as that clergyman. There were such as evinced no great enthusiasm for my speech; some even had the impudence to say that I spoke Hebrew badly. The missionary told us that he was journeying as far as Alexandria, and would proceed thence to some place in Africa—to preach the Gospel to woolly-headed natives.De th Raa acaba et a BS: jai det thd Sata th hed he Bibi meal ea, eee " . netteenes —— —— ~ c tae an eqnenrenr nner naan ty henna R tain a eee 16 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER He regarded the pleasure-seekers with intense dis- gust. I could see that he was scorning them with his bespectacled eyes, and every time I noticed him in the café or in one of the other salons—and he was ubiquit- ous—it seemed to me that at any moment he would jump upon a chair and begin to pour forth fire and brimstone upon the sinners. I went down to the second cabin to see whether I couldn’t find there a Jewish Jew,and possibly, even one who, like me, was on his way to Eretz Yisroel. I met, however, but a handful of passengers, a couple of Italian and Syrian families. There was not a Jewish face to be seen in their midst. Two years later, when I happened to be in Montreal, a young man came to see me (he had been born in Jerusalem and was now settled in Canada), and asked whether I hadn’t met on the Laconia a certain old man who wastravelling second-class. He was greatly astonished when I answered: ‘‘No’’, and told me, that there was an old man travelling on that ship, and the old man was his father. Years before the man had come to visit his children in Canada. His intention had beén to remain but a short period abroad, and then return to the land of his forefathers whither his heart was ever drawn. But the return voyage would be postponed from one month to the next, from year to year, and in the meantime the man from Jerusalem fell ill and his children absolutely refused to permit him to take the voyage in that condition.ON BOARD 17 Two years previous, at about the time I had decided to leave America, the old man felt that his end was approaching. Whereupon he entreated his children, by the love they bore him, to send him back to Eretz Yisroel. Let them only take him to the ship. He’d manage to reach the Holy Land. The doctor declared that he might die any moment. The children with tear-filled eyes, begged him to re- main in Montreal and not endanger his life. But the dying man refused to be dissuaded. He kept repeating: ‘‘'God that kept me alive in Jerusalem when I dwelt there, will, praised be His name, bring me to Eretz Yisroel. Even though it be but a moment before my death, so that I'll not have to be buried in unhallowed ground”. So his sons brought him to the Laconza. The old man’s prayer was not answered. He did not reach the end of his journey. Before the vessel arrived at Gibraltar, the poor old man breathed his last, with- out anybody near to hear his final confession. The company delivered the corpse into the care of the small Jewish Kehillah of Gibraltar, and there he was given a Jewish burial. During all the time that I was listenning to the sad tale about the old man from Jerusalem my thoughts were filled with the wonderful story that I had read in a holy book printed in Jerusalem. The legend re- counts that once there dwelt in foreign parts a very wealthy man who was frightfully stingy and cruel. He was exceedingly pious toward God, but to man——— ee ahem aie Me ek ol EE ee Bh ee sk oad A i oe Ae ool oe ed se A Ek eed i 18 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER he was the essence of cruelty. All he cared for was to gather in as much money as possible. With this money he would purchase precious stones and pearls which he had sewed into a leather wallet that he carried next to his heart. His wife and children, because of his penuriousness, one by one departed this life. They actually starved to death, for he never had given them enough to eat. It may be readily imagined, then, that to strangers he never gave so much as a drink of water. In his later years, after he had lost his family, he decided to go to Eretz Yisroel. So he settled in Jer- usalem. He became even more pious than before, would pray and study for days in succession, and every Friday would weep floods of tears at the Wailing Wall. But toward his fellow-men he continued to be the same heartless wretch as ever. His greatest pleasure was to feel the leather wallet next to his heart. People might die before his very eyes, yet he would not give them the smallest coin. He naturally hated his fellow-men and his animosity grew day by day. He begrudged every one his very life. When he felt that his end was near, he managed with his last strength to cook himself some soup. Into the soup he cast all the precious stones and pearls that he had been carrying about in his wallet. Then spoonful after spoonful he began to sip the broth to- gether with the jewels, so that after his death, even as during his life, no man might enjoy the possession of them.ON BOARD 19 As soon as he had swallowed the last diamond, he began to sink, and in a few minutes he died. His neighbors arrived and charitably buried him in the Jewish cemetery, which is situated upon the Mount of Olives, where the saints and the just have been reposing for tens of centuries. On the same day, in a tiny hamlet far from Eretz Yisroel, died an old Rabbi, a pure, saintly soul who had never failed to fulfil a divine injunction in every minutest detail. All his life long it grieved him that he could not go to Eretz Yisroel. He was too poor, however, to gratify his desire. And when he died, his last word was “‘Jerusalem”’. After the holy man’s burial there was a commotion in the heavenly tribunal. Was this the justice of God? Should a holy man lie in unholy soil because of his poverty, while a cruel, ungodly miser reposed upon the Mount of Olives? Whereupon a messenger was sent down from heaven, and on that very night the old Rabbi was transported to the holy mountain and the miser took his place. Sunday morning services were held in the chief sal- on. On one side sat the passengers and on the other were ranged the sailors, with prayers books in their hands. The services were conducted by the captain, a tall, raw-boned man of about fifty, who rarely ap- peared upon deck and was held in awe by all the officers and employees, and one of his aides.Sect a ett z ay , i ;. PPI F eR , BONE 8 Lo) ROxo RA ASSESS a ad i cdot dhe Mik Sik Hh leh i cM a Sin Adicio ht Bide ek A a 20 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER The captain kept an eye upon the young sailors, to see whether they were praying. If he caught any one of them pretending, he would eye him severely, even as the Keidaner rebbi would eye me in my childhood days, when I would finish the Eighteen Benedictions in a suspiciously short time. Our stewardess, a nimble English maid with cheeks as red as apples, observes to me that the sailors would be far more content if they were to receive, instead of a prayer-book, a bottle of Scotch apiece. On the prayer-books, in large letters, is printed “Cunard Steamship Company’’, even as on all the other objects of the vessel. That is merely force of habit. It is unnecessary to guard against theft. In any case it is certain that the sailors will not purloin their devotionaries. A step away from the salon,where the sacred hymns were being sung, sat some old sinners in the smoking- room over their soda and brandy, telling each other unholy yarns. And below, someone was dying. There is on board a room for gymnastics and every variety of sport. If one is accustomed to go for a ride every day, the Company has seen to it that he shall not, on that ac- count, become homesick. He is seated upon a sort of make-believe horse, an electric button is pressed, and he gallops away to his heart’s content without moving from the spot.ON BOARD 21 For those who are fond of bicycle riding, or rowing, there is similar provision. B. happens to be afraid of horses, and has never in his life tasted the pleasure of sitting in a saddle. Yet it is easy to see that his heart has always thirsted for such delights. As soon as he saw the ‘“‘horse’’, his eyes lighted up. For the first time in his life he found it possible to satisfy his hidden wish. He became a passionate devotee of ‘‘horse-back riding’, and judging from the eagerness with which he bestrode the substitute steed, the man in charge of the room deduced that here was a genuine broncho- buster. Later he became such a sportsman that mere horse- back riding was no longer sufficient. He went in enthusiastically for bicycling. Since the bicycle didn’t stir from the spot, it was hard to tell how fast B. rode. But I am certain that he never made less than sixty miles an hour. Last night there was a concert in the grand salon. There was singing, recitation, declamation of humor- ous pieces, and jokes that reflected little credit upon the intelligence of the passengers. At the poorest en- tertainment given on the East Side of New York one could have heard better and more genuine wit. After the concert there was a collection for the orphans and widows of drowned sailors. One of the passengers, a refined, elderly man, ev- idently a Scotchman, reminded the assembly of the danger one always faces when journeying on the sea,7", 7s hind dati x jolt odio dei 6a i al a cat rst Be Sak na hia 22 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER and declared that not even the strongest vessel was absolutely secure against the misfortunes of the deep. The only true protector was the All-merciful One, in whose hands we all were placed, and whose omnipot- ence we could nowhere escape. Therefore we should ever keep in mind the orphans and widows of those who, like us, rode on the deep and found therein a watery grave. The night was dark and stormy, and about the tiny round windows of the salon stood thousands of drown- ed souls, head upon head, counting the collection and wailing. Besides the four hundred passengers of the first class, who constitute, as may well be understood, the ‘ upper crust’, and outside of the few families travelling in the second cabin, there are several hundred Italians be- tween decks. They are homeward bound, and their glee grows daily. There is a lone Arab, from Syria. He, too, is home- ward bound, and has already donned his red fez with its black, dangling tassel. He holds aloof from the Italians. In America it had been necessary to min- gle with everybody. Now, however, it’s no longer necessary. When the bell rings for meals there is a merry scur- rying from every direction. I wonder why we above haven’t such an excellent appetite. And I come to the conclusion that it’s all on account of the bugle, which fills us with such gloom. We are nearing our first stopping-place. One more day and we shall be in beautiful Madeira. The harb- eh Sk Pk ak a AAS de ee AR al dled Meet aalON BOARD 23 ingers of land begin to appear—white graceful sea- gulls are circling over translucent waves. Together with the hot coffee, cold lemonade was served to the passengers—a first token of summer. One’s heart grows joyous and buoyant. Great hopes burgeon forth.——— — et nesting maaciataiameriend.eiiaeeee ne : re re . e. A ssh di cecd dale jAidinhchdd dh dnl hd ik Ae Se PS hh Se ee ac A a THE LAST LAP Twenty days after passing the Statue of Liberty, the Laconia steamed into the outer harbor of Alexandria. On the afternoon of the same day we re-embarked on the Austrian steamship Electra. If I call it steamship it is by way of euphemism. Were I to be realistic, I should call it a tub. I must confess that every time I read that an Austrian ship has been sunk, I console myself with the hope that it is the Electra. Years ago I read the description of a voyage by a renowned Hebrew author, in which he tells of the bea- utiful thoughts inspired in him as he journeyed upon the Electra from Alexandria to Jaffa. The thoughts are really beautiful. But as I boarded the vessel, I found it utterly impossible to understand how such inspir- ations could occur to a man while travelling on the Eleciva. It seemed to me that the one thought that could come to anybody on that tub was: how to keep from falling over the decrepit railings into the sea. The ship was ancient and wobbly. The deck was narrow, hardly enough room to move about. The cabins were small, cramped, foul, as if built for the express purpose of testing the endurance of those who were journeying to Eretz Yisroel. The following morning we reached the key to the Suez Canal,Port Said, where we remained for the whole day. Toward evening the Electra weighed its rusty Ne rag oS esTHE LAST LAP 25 anchor, and left for Jaffa. Sleep was out of the ques- tion. [knewthat I shouldn't close an eye,and made up my mind to remain on deck as late as possible. Gradu- ally all the other passengers descended to their cabins, and I was left alone. At the very rim of the horizon, from between two dark clouds, peered a yellow moon like a spectre from the other world. Fora moment she vanished, and when she re-appeared she was clear white and cast a weird radiance upon the water. How many had gone over the same path before me? The chill midnight air drove me to our cabin, so I lay down and gazed through the port-hole. The first gray glimmer will be the beginning of my first day in Eretz Yisroel, the dawn of a.new life. I could hear the waves lapping against the sides of the ship and the boards of the paddle-wheel splashing in the water. The night dragged slowly on, and no sooner had a patch of pallor tinged the sky than I hastened on deck. The first signs beckoned from afar. Then the shores of Jaffa grew clearer and clearer to the sight, and with the rising of the sun we could make out the yellowish- gray, flat-roofed buildings, which seemed to be heaped one upon the other. And yonder rose the white houses of Tel-Aviv, as though fresh from their morning bath. The vessel stopped. We were surrounded by a swarm of rowboats, and the cries of the Arabs in them were deafening. These were the “‘baharieh’’, who were to transfer the passengers from the Electra to the shore.ne ees at a : oe a nd da kd died th ek hod han a Dk SAD 2 eM A cael 26 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER When they were not shouting to the passengers, they were yelling at each other, and there arose a din anda pandemonium as if at a shipwreck. Much of the vociferating was not at all necessary, but yelling is second nature to an Arab. The same Arab who is so chary of his words and can sit for hours at a time with sealed lips, rejoices at an opportunity to air his lungs. “Ya Mahmud! Ya Sa‘id! Ya ‘Ali!’’ This at the top of their voices, though Mahmud, Sa‘id, and ‘Ali were at their very elbow,.and would have heard even a whisper. Before long we and our luggage were rolling in a boat over the restless waters to the “‘gumruk”’ (the custom-house). The shores of Jaffa are ringed with reefs, and ships must anchor farout at sea. It requires great skill on the part of the Arabs to prevent the boats in which they transfer the passengers from colliding with the rocks. During a storm it is impossible to reach shore, and it often happens that because of the inclement weather a ship has to proceed with all passengers to the next port. It also happened that vessels left for the next port, returned, found themselves again unable to land their passengers, went once more on to the next port, came back another time, and were thus shuttlecocked until at last they succeeded in disembarking their passengers. I sat together with many other passengers listening to the rhythmic song of the “‘baharieh’’ as they plied their oars back and forth through the waters. Every- thing seemed to be floating in a haze. OT ND) rea 7THE LAST LAP 27 And now my foot left the rowboat, and stepped upon the earth—upon the earth of Eretz Yisroel. After my passport had been vised, we were asked two francs per person—a ‘‘voluntary”’ contribution to the Turkish fleet. My little daughter was too busy with the large doll whichshe was carrying in her arms to feel any interest in the Turkish fleet, but the customs official decided that she was eager to contribute, and requested her donation of me. Judging from the way the official eyed the doll I could see that he was considering whether or not to inscribe her, too, on the list of donors. Later, when I had settled down in Rehoboth, I was present when the one-hundred-and-three-year-old Ab- dallah came toborrow five bishlik from Khawaja Musa, for, as he said, the soldiers had come to the village to collect the “‘voluntary contributions” for the fleet, and beat black and blue anybody who did not give his share._- a er a ene ee ee ee 7 ae ane ees I NRT tt rn mre se tng ble i le Si LWT POET ETI TE TE | idl dd A ed ae 48 id doe, coh TEL-AVIV During the entire time we drove from the ‘“‘Gumruk” through the streets of Jaffa a thin drizzle had been fall- ing. As we entered Tel-Aviv the rain ceased. The sky had cleared entirely, and golden sunlight was everywhere reflected from the white walls and the window-panes, and pouring down upon the well-swept sidewalks and paved stree's. I had been told that Tel-Aviv was the banner-town of the New Settlement. It seemed that the statement contained more truth than fiction. In every direction the eye was greeted with the two bright colors of the Zionist flag: white and blue. Below, white, dazzling white houses; above, blue, dazzling blue heavens, and in the background, a blue, deep blue sea. No half-tints, ro nuances, neither timidity nor inde- cision—nothing but clear, bright hues that burst upon one like trumpet blasts. All at once my head and my heart grew as clear and serene as the skies overhead. The flood of sunlight and the festive tidiness all about were greetings to me. I knew this as surely as I knew that I had come to Eretz Yisroel. Everything spoke to me, sang to me. We passed by an old barefoot Arab who was leading a loaded camel. His forefathers for I don’t know howTEL-AVIV 29 many generations back had surely driven camels and grazed their sheep on this selfsame spot, and had pitch- ed here their black tents, lighting fires at evening, baking ‘‘pittes’”, and afterward sitting around the fire telling stories in the tranquil night. I—had only just arrived, from a distant land— had not yet slept anight in Eretz Yisroel—had not yet drunk a glass of water in it, not yet walked ten paces upon its soil, and yet— I felt more rooted here than he. J was the long established dweller. Fror: the blood there leaped the muffled clamor of centuries: ‘‘My Birthright’’. We entered Rehob Herzl and reached Rothschild Square, where an arch of triumph had been erected, festooned with palm-branches and flowers. This was in preparation for the visit of Baron Edmond de Roth- schild, who was to arrive that morning. We stopped at an hotel at the corner of Rehob Herzl and Rehob Ahad ha- Am, exactly opposite the High School—a tall, simple white edifice with two miniature towers in the middle. The High School is the centre and the pride of Tel-Aviv. As one enters the village the first welcome is extended by this institution, as if it were to say: ‘‘Know ye that-all the houses ye see and all the persons on the streets were created for me alone. I am all-important here.”’ The whole village is astir with preparations for the Baron’s reception. The leading representatives of the High School and the chief citizens are in a fever ofoS et sent SHIT t wll 30 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER excitement. Every moment messengers arrive with new tidings: the Baron’s yacht may be descried from afar, the yacht has already anchored, and so on. In honor of the Baron’s coming the High School students have been granted a holiday. The streets are thronged with them. Handsome, sturdy youths and maidens. Their language is Hebrew. They laugh and chat, jest and chase one another about. Here comes a pretty Jewish maiden speeding by on a bicycle, disappearing around a corner. Carriages dash hither and thither and the bells upon the horses tinkle unceasingly. The coach that takes you from Tel-Aviv to Jaffa for two metallik cannot ac- commodate all the passengers. Flags are flying from the houses, and the crowd grows momentarily denser. To-day is Friday. The Baron has not arrived, and wili not come until Sunday. In the meantime the Sab- bath-eve dusk descends upon the village. The coach is no longer running, the carriages have disappeared. There is no trace now of the week-day atmosphere. The sun has already set. Soft shadows spread more and more thickly, the heavens are strewn with stars, and the streets teem with young couples and groups, who saunter along in every direction. Through theopen windows streams of light pour forth from the houses, and here and there a song bursts forth with the light. The words and the melodies are so familiar, so intimate. el ee | la | Ea i dtlTEL ..VIV 31 Men and women sit upon the verandas in the sem1- darkness, breathing the cool evening air, chatting, and upon everything and everybody is shed the chaste spirit of the Sabbath. They tell me that not long ago it was the custom to lower the gate in Tel-Aviv on the Sabbath, and no vehicle or horse was allowed to desecrate the holy day of rest. Now it is not permitted to lower the barrier. But rarely does a carriage or a rider drive through on the Sabbath. As to Jews, that is a foregone conclusion. Even the most reckless violator of ‘‘Yom-Kippur’’ would think twice before he would venture publicly to desecrate the Sabbath. There was a certain woman who tried to work in her garden on Sabbath, and she was almost lynched. And not at all—God forbid!—by Jews with long ear-locks but by—young students from the Hebrew HighSchool. These same youths on another occasion besieged the house where a noted Jewish author was staying, and would not allow him to go to a lecture that he was supposed to deliver in Yiddish. Another time they did something that required less heroism. For that very reason, however, it was of quicker and more decisive effect. They launched a ‘‘chemical obstruction” in a the- atre where the Yiddishists—who have as much chance in Tel-Aviv as the Hebraists in Chicago—were pro- ducing a play in Yiddish. For the benefit of those who do not know what a “chemical obstruction” is, I will simply note that it tsa a a eee ett ieee he tae rte PPLE TEETER Eee TRV Ne Oo Ry OTE ITT ESET) 2 Ore any eT 32 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER a method of argumentation more convincing to the olifactory organ than to reason, and consists in the use of such ingredients as even the martyred rfose of a Yiddishist cannot endure. At last the Baron arrived. A multitude of some four or five thousand persons assembled. Order was pre- served by the members of the Maccabean Athletic Club. Linking hands, they formed a chain behind the Baron's carriage and bravely stemmed the thousand- headed throng that pressed with all its might to break through. The news of the Baron’s coming had spread also to the Arabian quarter of Jaffa. With that gift of nicknaming possessed by all Arabs, they called the Baron ‘“‘Abu’l-Masari’’, the father of money. Others called him, more poetically, ‘‘Abu’l- Sunduk”’, the father of the coffer. [saw the Abu’l-Sunduk” standing upon a balcony, gazing down upon the vast crowd that had come to render him homage. He was deeply moved. His old face beamed with genuine joy. Fifteen years before, when he had come to Palestine, he had met colonists who looked to him for aid and a community that depended upon his benefactions, which were distributed by dishonest or incapable administrators. Now he found independent pioneers who greeted him with sincere love and admiration, but without mendicant humility. They expected nothing of him. They had come together to rejoice with him at the splendid fruit that had sprung from the seedTEL-AVIV 33 which he and others had sown with such great effort and with such heavy heart. He was especially delighted with those settlements and colonies in the upbuilding of which he himself had played no part. He, whose sole dream for three suc- cessive decades had been the colonization of Jews in Palestine, knew better than any other how to ap- preciate those results which had been accomplished without his aid. Tel-Aviv was altogether a revelation to him. But here and there a dark thread was visible. In Rishon !’Zion, they say, the Baron asked: ‘How does it hap- pen that I meet in Paris so many sons of Eretz Yisroel colonists?”’ In Ekron—perhaps the most backward of the col- onies in Judea—the Baron was welcomed by a chorus of children singing Hebrew songs. He noticed that some of the little ones had sore eyes, and asked whether instead of teaching the children singing, it wouldn’t be far better to give their eyes a good wash. When the Baroness was invited to the Music School of Tel-Aviv, she remarked: ““Vous commencez tou- jours par le dessert.” (You always begin with the dessert.) Despite all the elaborate arrangements made in his honor, the ‘‘Abu’l-Sunduk”’ remained in Tel-Aviv a couple of hours only. He was in a hurry to leave for Jerusalem.rns TT I EO eer et am Nae erm HERZLIAH Yesterday evening I attended a meshef (soirée) at the Herzliah High School. Baron de Rothschild, who had been expected, did not appear, but it was foreordained that the evening should not pass without the presence of an “Abu’l-Sunduk’’. There arrived the Chicago multi-millionaire and philanthropist, Mr. R. and his wife. The spacious hall of the High School was filled to overflowing with boy and girl students and invited guests. The program consisted of choral singing, reci- tations, an orchestra of wind instruments, a man- dolin orchestra, and, finally, gymnastics. The per- formers were students. The pupils that took part in the closing number went through all of their figures with vigor, skill, and rare grace. They were all lithe, broad-chested youths, dressed in white trousers and striped sweaters of white and blue. On each one’s bosom was em- broidered the word ‘‘Herzliah”’, the name of the High School. An excellent poem by Frischmann was read, but in the Sephardic Hebrew pronunciation the lines lost their original rhythm. The problem of retaining in the Sephardic accent the rhythm of Hebrew songs composed originally in the Net | al ery)HERZLIAH 35 Ashkenazic pronunciation will be very hard for the devotees of the ha-Havarah ha-Sefardit to solve. Yet practically all residents in EretzYisroel use exclusively this latter. The most sonorous strophes of Bialik and Shneor must naturally lose the greater part of their melody when uttered in the Sephardic pronunciation. No wonder then that many Hebrew authors in foreign countries look askance at the ha-Havarah ha-Sefardtt. One of them — a well-known mystic and philosopher, who never in his life cracked a joke—perpetrated his first and only pun at the expense of the selfsame di- alect calling it ha-Havarah ha-Sefarde tt, the language of the frogs. And yet, after residing in Eretz Yisroel for an ap- preciable length of time, one begins to feel that the Se- phardic accent is the proper one, despite all historico- philological considerations. The Chicago millionaire was evidently very little concerned about the matter of accent. He applauded all recitations indiscriminately out of purely philan- thropic motives. He was genuinely and heartily pleased, however, with the gymnastic part of the program. During the whole time that the young Jewish athletes went through their various physical exercises to the accompaniment of a small harmo- nium, he did not remove his eyes from them. He went into ecstasies over every turn and twist, and applauded with the enthusiasm of a boy. In addi- tion to his applause he contributed five hundred dollars toward a tennis-court for the students.eee a eink ak A penn 36 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER When the same millionaire visited a certain educat- ional institution in Jerusalem—lI was told—the people were no longer content with ovations, and they carried him on their shoulders. For the honor of my million- aire compatriot I should like to believe that he put up a vigorous resistance and that he kicked out a few teeth of some of those enthusiasts. And it occurs to me that wonderful bargains may be found in Eretz Yisroel. If the Lord blesses anyone with heaps of money and he is eager to purchase honor, let him at once take a trip to Palestine. What must cost a fortune in New York, Chicago, or Boston may be bought for a song in the land of our forefathers. It was quite late when the program came to an end and the audience dispersed. For a long time afterward I sat leaning against my window, and the High School students marched through the quiet streets of Tel-Aviv, lustily singing Hebrew songs into the starry night. al a)“MISTRESS AND MAID”* Yiddish here is taboo. To speak Yiddish in public requires the utmost courage. Students from the seventh and the eighth classes often come over to visit me. I try to converse with them in Hebrew. God in heaven knows that my in- tentions are of the best, but my tongue is still awk- ward. Sol begin to speak Yiddish. Whereupon they, too, speak Yiddish. Some of their companions or perhaps an instructor in the High School or an ordinary pedestrian happen to pass by; they make a wry face at meand my friends. Have I comehere tospread apostasy? The old veteran of the settlement, hoary-headed Eisenstadt, meets me and inquires whether it is true that I have come for the purpose of publishing a ‘‘Jar- gon’’ newspaper in Palestine. I assure him that such a horrible crime could never have occurred to me even in a dream. He makes a grimace betokening that he believes me in all good faith, smiles,and says that never in his life would he have harbored such a suspicion against me. He has merely repeated to me what others said. Yet I see thathis mind was not quite at rest on that score. 3 One can never feel too secure with these fellows that write “Jargon.” A merchant, to whom Mr. G. introduces me as a “Jargon writer’, asks me with genuine pity whether I am not ashamed to write ‘‘Jargon’”’. I take my life *These two terms are employed by the Maskilim to denote He- brew and Yiddish, respectively.aaa en 38 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER in my hands and answer: ‘‘No’’. I notice that his face darkens, and his former pity sours to scorn. And he had thought all the while that I was penitent! A young girl, evidently a recent arrival in Tel-Aviv, stops me in the thoroughfare,and asks me in a mutilated Hebrew to direct her toa certain place. I don’t answer quickly enough, from which she infers that, I do not understand her Hebrew. She is embarrassed and asks again—in a sorry Russian. “But why don’t you ask in your mother-tongue?”’ I exclaim in good Lithuanian Yiddish. It was as if I had brought new life to the maiden, and she began to speak in a Yiddish which I hope the Lord would confer upon a great many of our younger Yiddish writers. Yiddish in Tel-Aviv! Is such a thing possible?—So the poor thing had to worry along in Russian. I watched a group of young students playing foot- ball. There were the usual cries and wrangles, but not even during the most heated moments of the game did a non-Hebrew word escape their lips. To me this was the best proof that the language had entered their very soul and had grown to be an organic part of them. A great victory for the pioneers of the linguistic renaissance. On the other hand,the older people, though they speak Hebrew fluently, reveal a great deal of artificiality, a great deal of constraint, asif they would say: ‘‘We haveresolved upon a thing,and wewill carry it through, no matter how difficult it may be’. Most of the con- Wane oT Sars ij |) Aer“‘MISTRESS AND MAID”’ 39 versations, or at least, those that I happened to hear, are generally flat, and restricted to a single, trite circle of ideas. Few jokes are told, and lively humor is altogether lacking. This I ascribe to the unnaturalness of their Hebrew speech. It seems as if the moment they would begin to speak Yiddish, they would commence to breathe more freely, and to speak more interestingly, with greater zest and more humor. Then there are the very aged Jews who make such piteous endeavors to speak Hebrew. If it weren’t that they were ashamed, they would talk Yiddish, but some- how or other that would look bad before the young folks. So they break their teeth in the attempt, lest they should be laughed at, precisely as the older Jew- ish folks in America labor with their broken English. But this is Eretz Yisroel, and the ardent effort is made willingly. The parents look at their own child- ren, and hear how sweetly and naturally they speak Hebrew, and their hearts melt with joy. As to the language itself, it is not an insurmountable difficulty. But that Sephardic accent! A pious old Jew told me with a sigh that he had tried, in every manner possible, to recite his prayers in ha-Havarah ha-Sefardit, but that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he simply could not utter the words. Wherefore he had resolved that as far as intercourse with men on the streets was concerned—well and good; but as to the synagogue, good old Shnipishok Hebrew for him.cine ~~ . 40 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER One day I arose at early dawn. There was hardly a soul to be seen on the street. The donkey laden with fresh rolls from Katz's Ma’afiyyah(bakery)had only just gone by, which was a sign that it was still very early. I noticed an elderly Jew with a grayish beard thrust his head through a window, look about him in every direction, and greet someone whom he had evidently just seen with a hearty ““Gut Morgen’’. As he did so, the man smacked his lips with delight. Joy was writ- ten all over his face. He had slipped in a Yiddish word. Even more to be pitied were the “enforced converts”’ who, because of stern business necessity have had to adopt the faith of Tel-Aviv. Of such was the young man in the Masperah (barber-shop) where I went to get my haircut. At first he expended upon me the few Hebrew words and phrases that he had so evidently committed to memory by dint of hard labor. When, however, he discovered that I would not betray him, he divulged his identity in fluent Yiddish. Theonly outspoken Yiddishiststhat have the courage of their convictions are the Arabs who visit Tel-Aviv to sell their wares. Here comes a tall, thin Arab, lead- ing a tiny donkey laden with earthen vessels, crying beneath the very windows of the High School in clas- sic Yiddish: “‘Tel-er-lekh, te-pe—Iekh, shis-eIekh!” (saucers, pots, and dishes). And from the other end of the street comes an Arab woman with a basket of oranges on her head, singing in a half-melancholy, half-angry strain, ‘“Gute maranzi, maranzi gute! Maranzi!”’ Ne) ar ee 7)““MISTRESS AND MAID” 41 And yet, however ridiculous and petty the hos- tility of local enemies to Yiddish is, it is quite natural. For years and years these people have labored, fought and struggled with all their might, making every sort of sacrifice to revive the ancient tongue; they have thought by day and dreamed by night of this revival. And now, when they behold the first fruit of their labor, how can one expect them to be tolerant toward the language that they consider the most dangerous rival of their ideal? Personally I find myself daily believing more and more in the possibility of reviving the language of our forebears in Eretz Yisroel. Hebrew has always been a necessity in Palestine as a universal tongue in which Jews that come hither from every corner of the earth have been able to understand one another. The Jew from Persia and the Jew from Afghanistan, the Jew from Germany and the Jew from Yemen, were obliged to use Hebrew in order to find a brother in one another. This necessity becomes daily stronger, and will provide a constant incentive to the employment of Hebrew. In time Hebrew can become as natural to the residents of Palestine as it was to our ancestors two thousand years ago. After all, Hebrew has always been an important element in all the dialects that Jews have adopted in the various lands where they were dispersed. Perhaps in a sense one might even call Yiddish a Hebraic dialect.i a bi UR Ba =a 4 Sol 1 Sa ater ater tn ee 42 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER On the other hand, I often think what an immense store of valuable pioneer energy is expended upon the language in Eretz Yisroel. And I recall what Heine once said: “‘If the Romans had first been obliged to learn Latin, they would have had no time to conquer the world.”’ Atour boarding-house thereareseveral students from the higher classes in the High School. They come from Russia, they studied in the high schools of that country, and came to Tel-Aviv to continue their education. Every morning I hear them repeating their lessons. One of them is studying his Latin lesson in Hebrew— dead Latin in living Hebrew. My heart swells with pride, and I say to myself: ‘Jerusalem has conquered Rome.”’ What language the sea speaks in Tel-Aviv I don’t know, but I could never tire of listening to it. The day is all too short. In the morning I stand on the golden sands and watch the blue waves of the Mediterranean lash and break upon the craggy shore and the snow- white foam glisten in the sunlight. I am often accompanied by the Hebrew poet F.,and we both contemplate the sea and the sky with ecstasy; our joy knows no bounds. Our conversations are a part of the surrounding gladness. He says to me: “Do you know, I don’t feel like writ- ing a line here. Why create beautiful things, when the world about you is so beautiful and radiant?” He has taken the words out of my mouth. ae) ar ah a“‘MISTRESS AND MAID”’ 43 I feel at home with the sea, and forget the disgrace of being a “Jargon writer’’ and spreading apostasy (God forbid!) among innocent Jewish youth. I am happy, supremely happy, to be in Eretz Yisroel. At night the heavens are studded with stars, and out of the darkness comes the sound of the roaring, thundering sea. I know that it is roaring and thunder- ing at the birth of a nation, of a great dream in process of realization. Suddenly I am seized with a sweet pain and a languor, and old wounds begin to bleed.i +t a AM eee ee eT ET it ey SUNSHINE The keynote of Tel-Aviv is sunshine, a flood of sun- shine, which inundates the roofs, pours down from the roofs over the walls, splashes from the walls to the young trees, whose tender roots delve into the sandy soil for a little moisture, scatters over the street and the yellow heaps of sand, and is shattered into golden spangles upon the sapphire-blue expanse of the sea. Sunshine, a flood of sunshine, is likewise the funda- mental note of life itself in Tel-Aviv. Among the instructors of the High School, among the students, in the boarding-house, in the Anglo- Palestine Bank—everywhere the air is permeated with radiant hopes, with plans for the future, with the spirit of enterprise, with self-confidence and faith in SUCCESS. The Palestinian Bureau, which is situated onthe upper story of our boarding-house, is besieged from early morning till late at night by monied persons who have come to purchase land. Capital, which is by nature wary, and usually sends ahead of it its servant —labor—to spy out new territory, has begun to ap- pear in propria persona, not merely to take a look and run off, but really to stay. The settlement has commenced to be looked upon as a good business investment. The city merchant who is not enough of a pioneer to become a colonist, and not idealist enough to sac- le a) ae enSUNSHINE 45 rifice his city comforts to his love for Eretz Yisroel— this city merchant may now dwell in a modern struct- ure, enjoy all comforts, even more than his city life has accustomed him to, may send his sons and daughters to High School, find a profitable investment for his capital and his energy, and at the same time dwell in the land of his fathers. The toilers who have come hither to ‘‘eat bread with salt, and drink water by measure’’—to offer up every sort of sacrifice for the nation and land—naturally regard these bourgeois with hostility. Nor are there lacking piquant tales about certain settlers who have come to Eretz Yisroel to purify their ill-gotten gains. Rumors are current of business ventures, of new American colonies, of every sort of enterprise. There are tales of new land purchases, both by individuals and groups. In a single day I heard of five purchases, each in- volving thirty thousand dunam. But it was not given to me to enjoy these glad tidings for long. It transpired that in each case the same thirty thousand dunam were referred to, only by different mouths, and finally nothing came of the matter. As it turned out, there had only been negotiations with the Arab land-owners. Two Chicago Jews have arrived with a plan to open a clothing factory in Jerusalem. According to their figures the business will be a highly profitable one. They count in particular upon low wages. Besides this, the apprentices to the trade will at first receive no pay, so that their labor will be all profit. These two46 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER Jews have already leased a house near the Bezalel Institute, and intend very shortly to clothe Jerusalem with their products. What a happy day for the Palestinian settlement when the whir of Singer machines will announce to the residents of Jerusalem that the ‘“sweat-shop” has arrived. At every turn there are signs of good times. There are even stories of professional beggars who have journeyed all the way from Odessa to pursue their vocation in Tel-Aviv. In the Anglo-Palestine Bank, which is situated not in Tel-Aviv, but right in the centre of the filthy Arab quarter of Jaffa, there is din as at an annual fair. At every window there is a pushing crowd. Persons have come to deposit money, to buy and exchange money orders, loan money, to redeem notes, and so on. The official language of the bank is Hebrew. A placard asks the public to speak Hebrew. Those who can, do so. The bank stationery is in Hebrew. The inscriptions over the clerks’ windows are in Hebrew. The customers are all Jews with the exception of a few important Arab merchants who do business through the bank with Jews, or keep their money there for safety. The bank, established by Jews for Jews, pays par- ticular attention to Jewish needs and Jewish methods of businees and finance, and the Jewish merchant feels more at home there than he could feel in even the most haa Ne |) er eaeSUNSHINE 47 friendly non-Jewish bank under the most favorable conditions. From one direction flows a constant stream of new funds into the bank. The bank pays five per cent on yearly deposits, and the guarantee of the entire Jewish nation—which every depositor more or less believes to see behind the bank—attracts Jewish money from every corner. From the other direction comes a constant demand for funds to finance new enterprises, land-purchases, to pay for machinery, and so on. A great deal of money pours forth in a golden stream from the Anglo-Palestine Bank to fructify all the in- dustries of the new settlement. I take up a position near the Kuppah, or cashier's window. I have an order to exchange. The line is long and the cashier is none too quick. Just as my turn has come, a fellow appears from the opposite direction and approaches the window. I ask the cashier: “How is this? I’ve been waiting in line for over fifteen minutes.” I am on the point of getting angry, when an elderly Jew, with a long, genuine Isaiah beard, and with mild, Jewish eyes—evidently a business man of the old type —turns toward me, and takes me by the sleeve: ‘Young man, why so vexed? After all, we're in Eretz Yisroel, and we’re all Jews, praise be to God. Sooner, later—what’s the difference? You'll get there all right.”’ If I had heard such an argument in the Chemical National Bank of New York, I would have done—— ennai alter e tan e eee nage 48 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER one of two things; either I would have thrust the old man aside, or I should have burst into laughter. But here I really saw that the old fellow was right. [ had not sailed across the ocean to stand upon my right of ‘next’. 1 enter a private office, and see, before a long desk littered with documents, Mr. G. the compiler of Hebrew text-books and dictionaries, and at the same time one of the officials of the Anglo-Palestine Bank. He offers me a chair beside him, and asks one of the bank employees to fetch coffee. In the meantime in comes one man and out goes the other. The lexicographer does not rest for a moment; he counter-signs checks, signs documents, makes loans, asks questions and answers them—and in between he manages to discuss the new dictionary on which he has been working a long time. Before my eyes, promptly and accurately, business is transacted that involves many tens of thousands of francs. A man enters with a bill of lading and wishes the bank to pay for the goods that have come to him and hold it in the bank’s warehouse. A colonist from Pethach Tikvah needs money with which to purchase crates for his oranges, and the head of a small colony has come to borrow money from the bank for the pur- pose of installing a water system. The author of Hebrew text-books knows such cus- tomers intimately-—the history, family connections, condition and prospects, capabilities and habits of every applicant. On the strength of this knowledge Fs] Nat wae |S w w Le Ty - yf re i ASUNSHINE 49 he decides whom to favor and whom to refuse, and indicates the individual extent of credit. He is the bank’s ‘‘Bradstreet’’. He takes advantage of a free moment, and extracts from a desk-drawer the proof-sheets of the ‘‘Alef” section of his dictionary. I look over the proof-sheets, sip slowly my thimble- ful of coffee, and the Evil One once more brings to my mind thoughts of the Chemical National Bank of New York. But I scoff at the tempter. In Eretz Yisroel the taunts of the Evil One have no effect. At the other end of the spacious office, likewise before a desk littered with documents, sits another official of the bank—a tall, thin, brown-skinned Sephardi, wearing a red fez with a black tassel. His duty is to receive the Arab merchants and eff- endis who do business with the bank. An Arab enters in a black, flowing gown, with a white turban on his head, and greetings are exchanged. The Sephardi rises, and each party, with the utmost ceremoniousness, places his right hand first over his heart and then upon his forehead. Then one of them says: ‘‘Naharak sa‘id’’ (May your day be happy). Whereupon the other replies: ‘“‘Naharak sa‘id umubarak”’ (May your day be happy and blessed). Then the turbaned Sephardi offers his guest cigar- ettes and orders coffee. They sit down around the huge desk, smoke and take small sips of the viscous bever-50 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER age, and between puffs and sips go over the same rout- ine ground of question and answer: ‘Kaif halak’’ (How are you?). “El-Hamdu lillah’”’ (thanks to Allah). They converse upon every conceivable topic, and incidentally they transact the business which is the purpose of the meeting. In imposing privacy sits the chief director of the bank—a tall, broad-shouldered Jew in spectacles, with a long, grayish-brown beard. His first appear- ance upon the stage of Palestinian Colonization was made about twenty-five or thirty years ago—as the author of a Hebrew book on Eretz Yisroel. Now he is the head representative of a bank that has assets of about nine million francs. If he had worn a skull- cap, I could easily have taken him for a Shohet from an East-European town. But his exposed bald head destroyed this illusion. Instead of addressing me in Hebrew or in Yiddish, he tried to speak to me in English. The attempt was very unsuccessful, and I at once recognized the Maskil. By this time it is half-past twelve. The bank is emptied. The employees leave their little windows and hurry out of the place. The doors are closed. They will not re-open for two hours. Together with Mr. G. I return to Tel-Aviv. As we approach my boarding-house the lexico- grapher-pedagogue-bank official bids me a hurried good-bye: “I want to get in a half-hour’s work on the dictionary.”AROUND THE TABLE The tourist season is not yet in full swing—it won't be till Passover. But at our boarding-house the tables are almost always occupied. Shloyme, the barefoot Yemenite (he wears shoes only in honor of the Sabbath, weighs seventy-five pounds in all, including his high red fez, and does enough work for three), finds it impossible to serve all the guests, so that the propri- etress, the widow of a Rehoboth pioneer, and her children must come to his assistance. Near me sits the sewing instructress of the Bet Sefer le-Banot (Girls’ School), a tall middle-aged spinster. I can’t imagine what I could have said to bring such frightful thoughts into her mind; but she has taken it into her head that I poke fun at her. I may converse with her upon the most serious and most innocent matters, and show myself as frank and friendly as one may be toward an elderly spinster; yet she has lost all faith in me. When I tell her what tall buildings there are in New York, she makes a wry face and says: “I understand what you’re driving at’. And she turns away from me with an indignant expression. She appears to bea worthy Jewish daughter, and I am sincerely distressed that she should have taken a dislike to me. Opposite us sits the young physician—a thin chap with a tiny blond mustache and dull eyes that gaze gloomily down into his plate. Next to him sits his wife,=e! eee Se a ttl eng pretension nnd oe Mu Lanse See ~% cam eo Maen, mi wih, “= +S pe) EY, Pte ae Sh tia ond THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER a diminutive brunette with sweet, velvety eyes. Dur- ing the meal they do not speak to us, nor to each other. As soon as they have eaten their prunes—our dinner always concludes with prunes—they rise from the table and disappear into their room which at the same time is the office where the doctor receives, or is sup- posed to receive, patients, This physician arrived not very long ago from some- where in Poland. He isa Rofe le-mahalat ha-‘azabbim, (neurologist), but from his melancholy manner one may guess that the denizens of Tel-Aviv possess iron nerves. In the meantime the couple live upon the dowry which the physician received in addition to the velvety eyes. Not far from our table sits a young couple from Lithuania. Both eat lots of bread, and are embarrassed when Shloyme asks them what kind of marak they'll have. They don’t know a word of the Holy Tongue, and feel downcast. I should like to console them and say that theLord’s mercy is great and.as long asa man’s intentions are good it makes no difference even if he speaks Yiddish. But I tremble at the thought of the sewing instructress. Shloyme, however, who exerts every ounce of his Yemenite strength to learn Yiddish, promptly corrects himself and asks them: ‘‘What kind of soup?”’ and the Lithuanian couple acquire a new lease of life. Near them sits the tall Jew from Petrograd, one of the former publishers of the Russian newspaper‘‘Niva.”” He is half deaf, and before you can get into conver- sation with him you must shout into his ears. Itisa aaa) eae Lt 71"AROUND THE TABLE 53 long time since he has lived among Jews, and he goes into ecstasies over everything Jewish, including the Jewish dishes that Shloyme serves him. Everything is to him a symbol of the Jewish renaissance—even the chopped liver and radish that our landlady serves as an appetizer. The High School student, the son of a Warsaw business-man (who has been in the same class for two years, despite the fact that he is a very industrious student), looks at us out of red, idiotic eyes. He do- esn’t speak a word except the daily greeting “Shalom’’. On the other hand, the woman who has a drug-store in Kovno, and has come hither to discover whether she could move her business to Tel-Aviv, speaks with- out let-up, and in German at that, with an Aleksott accent. She is either a divorcée or a widow, and is evidently on the look-out for a match. At one of the tables sit the star-boarders. At their head is Dr. Z., a bachelor well along in years, who has come from Switzerland, where he took his degree as doctor of philosophy. He is the instructor in Talmud and other subjects at the Herzliah. He is utterly engrossed in his work. A modern reincarnation of the old-time teacher. I like him for his earnestness and his upright idealism, and on that account forgive him his hostility to Yiddish and his limited acquaintance with matters that lie without the radius of his school and its activities. Like all the other teachers in the High School, he looks upon that institution as the keystone of the settlement. The instructors regard each other,centile tiie atte en ee 54 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER in more or less naive fashion, as the sole true builders of the Jewish future. This very look of scorn upon all things not pertain- ing to the Herzliah, has been caught by the students from their instructors. The most modest pupil looks upon himself as a eminent pillar of the new Jewish life. This exaggerated pride is responsible for a great deal of insolence on the part of the students. Near Dr. Z. sits the pretty book-keeper. She knows that all eyes are turned upon her plump arms and her large black orbs, but pretends not to be aware of anything. The two green-faced maidens, instructresses in the Gan (kindergarten), and occupying seats near her, are very plainly envious, but conceal their envy with an extra dose of friendliness toward their beautiful table companion. Then there are two members of the city council of the colony Hederah, who have come on some matter of communal importance. One of them, a very aged- looking Jew of about forty, with half-bare gums and the marks of week-long fevers carved into his cheeks, tells me that I simply must pay a visit to Hederah. There is not a colony in the world as pretty and preci- ous as this one. He is one of the first who settled in the swampy district. One by one, family after family, the greater part of the brave pioneers succumbed to the malignant fever, until an entire cemetery was filled with their graves. Those who survived did not give up the fight. \S do oes ~ YE a pe se ae Py ey et | PE ae!AROUND THE TABLE 55 In the marshy soil they planted eucalyptus-trees, and the thirsty eucalypti sucked in the pestilential moisture; the air became pure and now fever-worn colonists may come to Tel-Aviv and praise their beau- tiful Hederah. I stand at the window and gaze out upon the stream of students and ordinary pedestrians that flows by our boarding-house. Is a Jewish melting-pot slowly forming here? Not in externals, at least. I am shocked by the diversity of the garments. It is as though everybody had purposely resolved to retain his native garb from Russia, Galicia, Germany, and other countries. This diversity offends one’s eye, particularly in the students of the High School. If they do not wear uni- forms, their clothes ought at least to be restricted within the bounds of a certain grade of uniformity. I was scandalized by two pupils, who were dressed in uniforms of Russian gymnasia. Moreover, as in a great many other particulars, so in the matter of clothing, everybody in Eretz Yisroel airs all those hidden romantic notions that he would in other places either be ashamed or afraid to display openly. Recently I met the young writer S. He was wear- ing a pair of stiff, shining, red riding-boots. I asked him whether he rode a horse. He answered “No, but it feels better to walk in these riding-boots.”arta eeetioh ate el ee mesiipetpenie ane ee Dee, Sey ee, e = <—e om bee PME E RITA FL ENe PE UEPEIIT TEE wT 56 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER I explain the matter to myself in the following way: This chap probably dreamed in his childhood of own- ing a pair of riding-boots such as he had seen the gentry of his town wear; that dream of the riding-boots slumbered for years and decades, until he came to Tel-Aviv and resolved to realize his leathern dream. For the same reason, perhaps, a certain professor of an art school in Jerusalem carries a riding-whip with him wherever he goes. In the colony, on the other hand, there is a tendency to get rid gradually of the European garments and change them for Arabian clothes. The working people and particularly the Shomerim (riding watchman), are very fond of dressing like Bedouins. After all, Bedouin dress is not only very graceful, but very comfortable as well. The drooping head-covering is a necessary protection against the sun’s scorching rays, and the loose cloak is pleasant to wear, and allows one’s limbs free and easy movement. Those who do not possess a complete Bedouin outfit procure a table cloth or a towel somewhere, gird it about with a black curtain cord and “‘play Bedouin”’.BUILDING The former associate publisher of the Nzva asked me to accompany him on a visit to the High School. Dr. M. received us very cordially, and asked which class we should like to visit. Since I know that the Petrograd fellow, begging his pardon, was quite ignorant of things Jewish, and that in addition to this, he was half deaf, and that it was not the custom to shout lessons in the Herzliah through a megaphone, I was at first somewhat embar- rassed. I desired that this man who is returning to the fold should carry away the best possible impression of the institution. But how can this be accomplished, if the man is deaf? had aninspiration. I shall take him to the gym- nasticclass. So I told Dr. M. that we should like to see the class in gymnastics. If he cannot hear, let him at least see. Well, as ill-luck would have it, there wasn't any class in gymnastics that day. There was nothing left but to take the deaf Petrogradian to any Class at all. I selected the Bibleclass, whereDr. M. was lecturing on the forty-fifth Psalm: ““My heart ov erfloweth with goodly matter.’’ We were placed amongst the stud- ents, copies of the Psalms were given us, and the lesson began. The hour taken up by the lesson fled by for me like a minute. I forgot my companion and the whole High School. Under the spell of the beautiful interpretationSe eatin ee aaeeteetieneteaiene te re BEE LIGe 58 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER given by the lecturer the verses began to quiver with colorful animation. The students hung upon the instructor’s lips; this attention was not forced or perfunctory, but the result of sincere and keen enjoyment. On another occasion Dr. Z. invited me to attend his Talmud class. The text was the Mishnah, the section ‘Possession of houses’’, in Baba Batra: ‘“‘Mere posses- sion does not necessarily constitute property right’. Dr. Z. explained in fluent Hebrew to his students the juridical principle of Hazakah, and why Hazakah, or the mere fact that one happened to be in possession of a certain thing, was not in and by itself enough to establish one’s right to it as property. Such pos- session must be also fortified by a certain logical justification. My memory leaped backward a couple of decades and transported me to a cramped, low, little room. The tiny room lacked a floor and in the middle stood a long, wooden table. At the end, upon a worn-out chair sat an old, bent Jew with a white beard, swaying back and forth over an ancient Gemara. On either side, on long benches, sat about ten youngsters swaying back and forth together with their teacher, repeating what he was chanting. A small portion they understood, and the greater part they did not even begin to understand, and all the time the little school-room resounded with: ‘“‘Mere possession does not necessarily constitute prop- erty right.” In one of these youngsters I recognized the man now listening to Dr. Z. with head uncovered and clean al eee) ae ke YYBUILDING 59 shaven face, expounding the juridical principles of possession to a silent, attentive class. My imagination might perhaps have been able to transform the youths and even the girls into the young- sters of a couple of decades back—the small desks into a long, unpainted table, the well-scoured mosaic- plaster into the floor of dirty earth, the bare head of Dr. Z. into my old teacher’s feather-covered skull-cap. But I was prevented by the Sephardic accent. The “bathah”’ against which I have a prejudice of old was so often repeated in the words Hazakah and Tanna,and so on, that my imagination could in no way transform the Talmud-instructor of the Herzliah into the Gem- ara-teacher of my childhood who pronounced these vowels like o. In answering the question put to his students by Dr. Z., a sixteen-year old girl, with black, deeply earnest eyes, rose brilliantly above the others of the class. Instruction is given to both sexes together. Young boys and girls sit close to each other on the same bench. The founders and the teachers of the institution have evidently imbibed all their notions of education from Switzerland, where the majority of them took their doctor’s degrees, and believe that one must always begin with the ‘‘last word”. In the United States, where relations between the sexes in ordinary life is freer, I believe, than in any other country in the world, the co-educational system is still in its experimental stages, and perhaps it wouldene Neen eT aiiammmne tetera a ee ee " not have been amiss if the Tel-Aviv school were not in such a hurry to introduce a system that may be in- terpreted as rather the ultra-radicalism of the former Yeshiva bohur than asasign of healthy progressiveness. I visited the Labor Bureau that the Poale-Zionists maintain in Jaffa. The influx of colonists has increased considerably of late. The Russian ship company, which lowered the price of tickets, is largely responsible for this influx. The Journey from Odessa to Jaffa now (1914) costs 60 THE FEET OF THE MESSENGER some fourteen rubles in all. Accordingly every ship brings a large number of young people, for whom work must be found in the city or the colony, and the energetic B. who is at the head of the Labor Bureau has his hands full. The Labor Bureau serves also as post-office for the workingmen. A large number of them receive their letters at the address of the Bureau. B. tells me that it is not always an easy matter to discover the addres- see. His experience has already made him an expert in postal puzzles. Such directions as ‘‘To be given to the Carpenter” or ‘‘For my Husband” are child’s play to him. Last week, however, he received a letter with the following address: ‘‘To be delivered to the same’’. I was interested to learn what percentage of the toilers who come to Palestine remain permanently. I discovered that the percentage was very small. Ordi- narily they come in large numbers just before Pass- MF, oR Nee Oe | Ee peer Fray Fi ce" p PTY Rey]! ABUILDING 61 over, and scatter over the colonies. By day they work in the orange groves and in the vineyards, and at night they sing: ‘“Yoh—Ha-Li-Li’, and dance till they can no longer stand on the their feet. Or they go strolling over the hills and amidst the gardens, and are happy and joyous. Should they catch a touch of the fever, they welcome it as part of the game. After all this is Eretz Yisroel,the skies are beautiful, one is young and is celebrating the liberation from the distractedness or from the hum-drum pettiness of life in the old home. Weeks and months go by. And the weaker element, who are in the majority, grow downcast, lose their courage, and one fine day resolve to leave. This one goes to America, the other to Africa, a third returns home. They have failed to pass the test. There remain only the purified, the resolute, the thoroughly tested ones—the fighters and pioneers. They sink their roots into the soil, and become the best and soundest elements of the settlement.in ‘ bi ee nt Nee ee anne ineiiiiaic tii at Oteemstend atin ae ae ornGy