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THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
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THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ONE YEAR 
 
 IN 
 
 GRACE AGUILAR’S GIRLHOOD 
 
 BY 
 
 ABRAM S. ISAACS 
 
 Author of " Step by Step" 
 
 Philadelphia 
 
 The Jewish Publication Society of America 
 
 1913 
 
r*’ \ 
 
 Copyright, 1913. 
 
 BY 
 
 The Jewish Publication Society of America 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Few lives can be more helpful to our 
 young people to-day, to our girls in particu¬ 
 lar, than that of Grace Aguilar. She pos¬ 
 sesses the distinction of being a modern 
 author, instead of an ancient heroine. 
 Doubtless some are still living that knew 
 her, for she died only sixty-five years ago. 
 
 There has been no conscious attempt to 
 idealize her character or exaggerate her 
 importance. To make her the centre of a 
 group of happy girls of her age, it was 
 thought, would serve to add to her influ¬ 
 ence. That certain liberties have been 
 taken with Mrs. Hall’s friendship, may be 
 excused for a similar reason. There is no 
 exact evidence that she met Moses Monte- 
 fiore or Benjamin Disraeli, or that she 
 quoted from Shakespeare on a certain walk 
 
 with her friend in the streets of London. 
 
 5 
 
 
 ■w ■'St'. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 But here again the critic need not be too 
 severe. In fiction the end often justifies the 
 means. 
 
 In the hope that the story may prove 
 readable to our young people, and, brief 
 though It be, suggestive to their parents— 
 for It touches on topics that can no longer 
 be Ignored by those who wish Jewish foun¬ 
 dations to be permanent, and who see little 
 prospect for the strengthening of Jewish 
 Ideals except In the old-fashioned balance- 
 wheels—this little volume Is submitted to 
 the public. May It meet as appreciative a 
 reception as that accorded to Its prede¬ 
 cessor, “ Step by Step.” 
 
 A. S. I. 
 
 New York University. 
 
 6 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 . Mother and Daughter. 9 
 
 II. Home Influence . 22 
 
 III. An Adventure . 34 
 
 IV. A Sabbath Chat. 47 
 
 V. A New Friend. 59 
 
 VI. Leaves from a Diary. 72 
 
 VII. A Rainy Afternoon. 85 
 
 VIII. In the Orchard. 98 
 
 IX. In the Shadow. 112 
 
 X. A Hanukkah Night. 125 
 
 XI. A Batch of Letters. 139 
 
 XII. Devonshire Days . 153 
 
 XIII. A Surprise . 167 
 
 XIV. What the Years Told. 182 
 
 7 
 
 i 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 I 
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 Along the open country road, only a 
 
 short distance from the noise and smoke of 
 London, and yet forming a part of the 
 great city, which was the world’s famous 
 capital even a century ago, there ran a 
 happy girl of about twelve. High-browed, 
 bright-eyed, with a pensive look, which 
 changed quickly as some trifling object—a 
 flower, a leaf, a squirrel—aroused her 
 attention, it was a face that could hardly be 
 called beautiful. But it was none the less 
 attractive. Its strength was in its expres¬ 
 sion, which was perhaps too thoughtful for 
 one of her years. 
 
 Who can describe the charm of English 
 
 9 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 fields, with their neatly-trimmed hedges, 
 the trees so rich in bough and leaf, with 
 here and there a mass of common flowers 
 brightening the scene, the wonderful color 
 of the sward, a deep velvety green? The 
 birds, some of radiant hue, darting joy¬ 
 ously from bush to bush, from tree to tree; 
 the soft, fleecy clouds with their perpetual 
 play of sunshine and shadow; the air so 
 cool and refreshing in early June; the long 
 stretches of meadow in the distance, with 
 the laborer faithfully at work, and no sound 
 disturbing the stillness except the shrill 
 Caw! Caw! of a bird in flight or the whir¬ 
 ring of many wings—all this made the 
 morning one of rare beauty. What a pre¬ 
 cious privilege to breathe the fragrance and 
 enjoy the luxury of living on such a perfect 
 day! 
 
 “ I wonder where mother is,” the girl 
 
 exclaimed, as she stopped for a moment, 
 
 and gave a glance backward. “ Perhaps I 
 
 10 
 
 / 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 have gone a little too fast for her. Why, 
 there she is! Mother, mother, here I am! 
 I’ll wait for you here under the tree.” 
 And down she sat beneath a towering oak 
 of huge girth, which seemed tall and mighty 
 enough to have flourished when the Nor¬ 
 mans came to England, or perhaps as early 
 as when King Alfred in masquerade, so it is 
 told us, let the bread burn in the oven— 
 what a careless baker, indeed! 
 
 “ Grace, you certainly have Improved as 
 a runner,” Mrs. Aguilar exclaimed as she 
 reached her daughter, and rested close by 
 her side. “ The country air has done won¬ 
 ders for you. It was a chase in earnest to 
 catch up with you. Well, now we can 
 remain here for a while before we return 
 home.” 
 
 “You rest, mother, for you look rather 
 tired, but I want to bring home some flow¬ 
 ers and make a wreath for father.” And 
 
 away Grace ran, busying herself in an adja- 
 
 11 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 cent meadow, and soon returning with a 
 mass of wild flowers. 
 
 “ Mother,” she said suddenly, placing 
 the flowers carefully on the ground, and 
 sinking down by her mother’s side, “ may I 
 go to school in September? You know 
 how dearly I wish to go, mother dear.” 
 And she caressed her mother tenderly as 
 she spoke. 
 
 “ Now, my daughter, had you not better 
 leave the matter to your father and myself? 
 We know surely what is best for you, do we 
 not, little girl? ” 
 
 “ But, mother,” came the rather impa¬ 
 tient response, “ all the girls go to school, 
 and if I remain away, I shall know as little 
 as Shep, our neighbor’s dog. I want to 
 have more education, indeed I do. You 
 must know that.” 
 
 “ Why, Shep is not so ignorant, my pre¬ 
 cious child. Just think how he watches the 
 
 house, how he growls suspiciously when a 
 
 12 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 stranger approaches, and barks with joy 
 when those whom he loves draw near. I 
 do not call Shep ignorant because he can¬ 
 not read or write or spell.” 
 
 “ O mother, you know what I mean. 
 Have you not often told me that it is the 
 mission of Israel to spread knowledge? 
 Now, how can I spread knowledge if I do 
 not learn in my youth ? ” And Grace began 
 to look somewhat dissatisfied. 
 
 “ Grace, my darling, you forget how ill 
 you have been, and how we were obliged to 
 take you from school, until you recovered 
 your strength fully. That you are much 
 stronger now, is no reason why we should 
 send you back to your school lessons. 
 Believe me, my daughter, your father and I 
 will not neglect your education, and we are 
 hopeful that you will develop all the abili¬ 
 ties you possess, to become a blessing to 
 Israel. And you cannot deny that you are 
 
 progressing, dearest.” 
 
 13 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “ Yes, mother, but—” 
 
 “ You have your regular studies each 
 day, and both your father and I take special 
 care that our religion and its history are 
 taught faithfully. Every Sabbath he reads 
 to you out of our Sacred Writings, and tells 
 you about some famous heroes and heroines 
 of our people. And I am not neglectful, 
 am I? Do I not speak to you of those 
 home duties and influences that keep Juda¬ 
 ism as everlasting as the Ner Tamid, the 
 Eternal Light, in our old synagogue in 
 London? ” 
 
 Grace could not resist the force and per¬ 
 suasiveness of her mother’s words, and she 
 gave her a hearty kiss. 
 
 “ Trust me, child,” she continued earn¬ 
 estly. “ Your mother’s school is best. It 
 was in my mother’s school that I learnt 
 what is best, wisest, and most helpful for a 
 Jewess to know and to practice. It was the 
 
 school of the home, where Sabbaths and 
 
 14 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 Holy Days were hallowed, where the door¬ 
 post proclaimed ‘ I am a Hebrew,’ where 
 prayer was heard daily, and where knowl¬ 
 edge and reverence flourished side by side, 
 and old and young dwelt in kindness and 
 love and peace. I want my little girl never 
 to forget her mother’s school. I cannot 
 forget mine. I owe everything to it.” 
 
 “ Why, mother, you are a regular 
 preacher,” Grace rejoined after a pause, 
 looking at Mrs. Aguilar with a smile. “ I 
 wish we had English sermons in our syna¬ 
 gogue, don’t you? ” 
 
 In those days, and for some years there¬ 
 after, there was no regular English preach¬ 
 ing in the synagogues of England. An 
 English address was given at rare intervals 
 by gifted and public-spirited men, but regu¬ 
 lar preaching in the vernacular, the lan¬ 
 guage of the country, was introduced at a 
 later date. The young people in that era 
 were in grave danger of losing interest in 
 
 15 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 their religion, and becoming ignorant of its 
 history and requirements. There were no 
 Sunday Schools, or Young Men’s and Young 
 Women’s Hebrew Associations, and not 
 very many English books on Jewish subjects, 
 none of the glorious opportunities boys and 
 girls now possess of becoming intelligent 
 and enthusiastic Israelites as they grow into 
 manhood and womanhood. Of course, the 
 Jewish population of England was very 
 small, compared with its present size and 
 importance; but the younger generation 
 was none the less neglected. 
 
 “ Dearest Grace,” Mrs. Aguilar replied, 
 with as much earnestness as if she were talk¬ 
 ing to an older person—for her daughter 
 was thoughtful for her years, and the train¬ 
 ing she had received had developed her 
 mind without robbing it of the gaiety and 
 hopefulness of youth—“ dearest Grace, 
 many were the preachers among the women 
 
 of Israel. Where can you find a more elo- 
 
 16 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 quent preacher than Hannah, whose pious 
 love was her son Samuel’s best preparation 
 for the ministry? Where a more brilliant 
 sermon than the life of Esther, who, raised 
 to royal honors, never forgot her Jewish 
 origin, and bravely championed her people, 
 although it might have led to her death? 
 Where a more wonderful text than the 
 mother of whom the rabbis tell us in the 
 Talmud, that marvellous work about which 
 you will know more in time? She used to 
 bring her little son in his cradle close to the 
 door of the academy where the sages 
 studied, and there she would sit and sew for 
 hours, thinking that the place, the surround¬ 
 ings, the wise words of teachers in Israel 
 would inspire him unconsciously to become 
 a guide to his people in later years.” 
 
 “ And did he become a rabbi, mother? ” 
 Grace asked, deeply interested. 
 
 “ Yes, indeed, with countless others, in¬ 
 spired and encouraged by the example and 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 prayers of their self-sacrificing mothers, 
 who may surely be called preachers, even 
 if they had no other pulpit than the home. 
 They were the true, unheralded heroines in 
 Israel. It is the home, remember, Grace, 
 that is the real altar of Judaism, where 
 mother and father are priestess and priest.” 
 
 “ Mother, do you know what I should 
 like to do when I grow older? I’ll tell you. 
 I should like—now, do not laugh at me^— 
 I should like to write about the women of 
 Israel, so that the whole world might know 
 what they were, and what they did. What 
 glorious work to tell of their character and 
 deeds! When I grow older—” 
 
 “ Come, come, little girl,” the mother 
 interrupted, as she gazed at the girl’s glow¬ 
 ing countenance, “ come, come, do not 
 worry about the future. Look at those 
 beautiful flowers on this side of the hedge! 
 Do you not see them? I was reading the 
 
 other day about a curious trait of flowers. 
 
 18 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 It would almost seem that they had minds.” 
 
 “ The idea, mother, of flowers having 
 minds I ” 
 
 “ It may appear odd, but the author says 
 that flowers have understanding, and know 
 when people care for them. They respond, 
 . just like children, to a loving touch and a 
 caress. And flowers can express their 
 wants. For instance, a flower whose head 
 is drooping is calling for water. In differ¬ 
 ent ways they ask for light, warmth, sun¬ 
 shine. When they are satisfied, how buoy¬ 
 antly they lift their heads, as if from pure 
 joy of being flowers in the glad sunshine.” 
 
 “ That is a funny idea,” Grace remarked, 
 “ that flowers should ask for anything. 
 Why, it makes one think that flowerland is 
 fairyland indeed.” 
 
 “ There is another thing in connection 
 with flowers, my daughter. We speak of 
 a beautiful rose or a lovely violet, but you 
 
 can best realize the charm of flowers 
 
 19 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 through magnifying glasses. Remarkable 
 beauty is disclosed, and wonders never 
 before appreciated come to light. Petal 
 and leaf appear in marvellous splendor and 
 form. The world of flowers is a most 
 wonderful study. I am glad you are fond 
 of botanizing, Grace. The flower world 
 is a kind of sacred scripture, which reveals 
 the goodness and greatness of our Almighty 
 Father.” 
 
 “ Look, mother! ” Grace exclaimed sud¬ 
 denly, glancing across the fields. “ There’s 
 father coming for us. He must think that 
 we are lost. Here we are 1 Here we are! ” 
 she shouted, waving her hands excitedly. 
 “ Here we are! ” 
 
 “ What were you two doing all these 
 hours? ” he asked, drawing near and kissing 
 them. “ Do you know it is rather late? ” 
 
 “ Doing? ” repeated Grace with a smil¬ 
 ing glance at her mother. “ Doing? 
 
 Why, we were merely at mother’s school.” 
 
 20 
 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 As she spoke, a bird darted from a tall 
 oak tree, singing sweetly in its upward 
 flight. 
 
 “ Yes,” Mrs. Aguilar observed, “ and 
 now school is over. The bird-bell has 
 sounded for recess.” And the three were 
 soon on their eager way homeward, talking 
 gaily, Grace leading in the chat, with the 
 flowers for her father’s wreath in her hand. 
 They had been pleasant, those hours at 
 mother’s school, the oldest, the happiest, 
 and the best school in all the world! 
 
 21 
 
II 
 
 HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 It was a happy home, that of the 
 Aguilars. It was not a pretentious abode, 
 the small frame cottage with its trelllsed 
 porch and garden, where violets, pansies, 
 roses, and mignonette grew In sweet pro¬ 
 fusion. But you felt when you sought It 
 and crossed Its threshold that It was a home 
 fragrant with affection. There was no 
 elaborate furniture, no expensive ornaments 
 and statuary, no costly paintings and tap¬ 
 estry work. Nothing could have been 
 simpler than Grace’s dwelling, wherein 
 were practiced the virtues of thrift, 
 contentment, and unfaltering trust In the 
 Almighty. 
 
 The home was doubly precious, as from 
 her early childhood there had been fre¬ 
 quent changes of residence for Grace, owing 
 
 22 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 to her constant ill health. Again and again 
 her parents had sought a more bracing 
 climate for her, now by the sea and now 
 among the hills. The father’s constitution, 
 too, was not very strong, and at times they 
 were obliged to live elsewhere for his sake. 
 It was as much their changes of residence 
 as their daughter’s delicate health that com¬ 
 pelled her parents to take her from school 
 and teach her themselves. 
 
 Father, mother, and daughter formed 
 the entire family at this time; years later 
 two sons were added to the household. 
 Their immediate ancestors had come to 
 England in the seventeenth century, being 
 descendants of Jews that had been expelled 
 first from Spain and then from Portugal, 
 and had settled in other lands, where their 
 condition was often pitiable. Many were 
 men and women of high culture and 
 character, who made a career for them¬ 
 selves in their new surroundings, acquiring 
 
 23 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 wealth and position. Some were scholars 
 of much learning, who taught ardently the 
 olden Law, and strove to train the new 
 generation in obedience to its commands. 
 
 In England in particular, where, in 
 Oliver Cromwell’s reign, the Jews were 
 permitted to settle again, the numbers of 
 our Spanish and Portuguese brethren were 
 limited. Yet they formed a distinguished 
 class by themselves, proud of their ancestry 
 and their faith. They were, indeed, princes 
 and princesses in Israel, and their family 
 records told many a tale of glorious mar¬ 
 tyrdom. Hence, their religion was very 
 dear to them, and as a body they observed 
 the traditions of their people very carefully. 
 Their synagogue in Bevis Marks, London, 
 is the oldest in England, and dates origi¬ 
 nally from 1702. 
 
 The Aguilars were worthy representa¬ 
 tives of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews 
 
 of the Middle Ages. Their piety was sim- 
 
 24 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 pie and unaffected. It was a tribute of 
 gratitude, a proof of loyalty. It sprang 
 from conviction, not custom. You have 
 heard of Nelson’s famous words to his 
 sailors, “ England expects every man to do 
 his duty.” The Aguilars felt that Israel, 
 too, expected every Israelite to do his and 
 her duty. In loving return to the good Cre¬ 
 ator, who had so wonderfully preserved the 
 Jew and spread his religion from land to 
 land. It Is true, they lived too far from 
 the City to attend the synagogue regularly 
 when they returned from their wanderings; 
 but they made their home their altar. The 
 Sabbath and the festivals were faithfully 
 observed; no day’s religious duties were 
 neglected. And their devotion was not a 
 set task, a formal duty; It was the glad 
 offering of their grateful hearts. It came 
 as free and unconscious as a flower’s blos¬ 
 soming. 
 
 With all their fidelity to our old faith 
 
 25 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and its traditions, the Aguilars had no tinge 
 of narrowness or bigotry. Repeating each 
 day the inspiring words from the Psalms, 
 “ Thou openest Thy hand and satisfiest the 
 desire of every living thing,” and “ The 
 Lord is near to all who call upon Him in 
 truth,” they had only esteem for their neigh¬ 
 bors of other creeds. Among these they 
 numbered many close friends of their own 
 social standing. Now and then a literary 
 celebrity would visit their dwelling, or some 
 acquaintances they had made on their jour¬ 
 neys. Occasionally a^ kindly clergyman 
 would be welcomed. As a result, the family 
 atmosphere was genial, and as Grace was 
 a close observer from early childhood, with 
 a mind that developed rapidly, she was 
 greatly benefited by the interchange of 
 thought, which widened her own ideas. In 
 fact, it was for her sake that her parents 
 sought every means of rendering the home 
 a centre of loving and helpful influence. 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 “ Emanuel,” Mrs. Aguilar said one day 
 to her husband, ‘‘ do you really think that 
 Grace will ever grow strong? ” She was 
 then about six years of age, and had spent 
 several summers by the sea by order of the 
 physician. 
 
 My dear Sarah,” he rejoined, “ we can 
 only do our best. She is a child of great 
 promise. We must look after her body as 
 well as her mind. Surely the Almighty 
 did not place so superior a spirit in so deli¬ 
 cate a frame without some purpose. I feel 
 that she will live to fulfil the purpose, and 
 I shall spare no effort to enable her to gain 
 health and strength.” 
 
 “ And I, too, dear husband,” Mrs. 
 Aguilar added; “I shall watch over her 
 with ceaseless care. Do you know what 
 first aroused me to the beauty and value of 
 the gift God gave us in our daughter? ” 
 
 “ No, my dear. What was it?” 
 
 “ Do you not recall when she was ill in 
 
 27 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 her second year, and her birthday came, 
 that she asked me to give her a book? She 
 wished to have no other present. That 
 showed at once the noble quality of her 
 mind.” 
 
 “ Yes, indeed, Sarah; and do you not 
 recall the summer at Hastings—she was 
 then four—when she collected and arranged 
 shells? How patiently she set to w^ork, 
 how cleverly she put them together, each 
 with a tiny label? It amused me to watch 
 her as she merrily ran up and down the 
 sands, which were rich in beautiful shells. 
 What color was on her cheeks, and how 
 her eyes shone I ” 
 
 “ And then,” Mrs. Aguilar continued, 
 “ how she treasured her little books! Why, 
 one morning she wanted me to teach her 
 how to make linen covers for them, to pre¬ 
 serve them from dust and injury. And she 
 really made several covers very deftly after 
 I had shown her.” 
 
 28 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 There was a pause for a moment, and 
 then Mrs. Aguilar told her husband how 
 she succeeded once in forcing a doll on 
 Grace, and the following afternoon she 
 found her trying to teach the doll how to 
 read. It was not long before she dis¬ 
 covered the utter hopelessness of the task. 
 Occasionally she would play school with 
 the few dolls that came to her, but she 
 never relished the game. She would turn 
 to her books again and again, and at night 
 keep one under her pillow. 
 
 Sarah,” her husband exclaimed smil¬ 
 ingly, “ when Grace began her diary, she 
 was not five years old, and she has never 
 neglected it since. I really think she will 
 become an author.” 
 
 “ Yes, I also feel that she will devote her 
 life to authorship, but it will be for a high 
 and lofty purpose.” 
 
 “ And that purpose, Sarah dear? ” 
 
 “ To champion the cause of Israel and 
 
 29 
 
 \ 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 promote a kindly and noble humanity.” 
 And Mrs. Aguilar’s face fairly glowed with 
 exultation as she added, “ It is one of our 
 old traditional sayings, that every mother 
 in Israel should reflect that her son might 
 become a Messiah, a deliverer of his peo¬ 
 ple. May Grace be such a deliverer to 
 
 \ 
 
 champion Israel’s truth and rescue the 
 nations from prejudice and error! ” 
 
 “ How quickly Grace began to read,” 
 Mr. Aguilar said after a brief silence. “ I 
 am sure she was never taught, was she? ” 
 “ No, no,” Mrs. Aguilar rejoined. “ It 
 was with her as with the birds, as a German 
 poet puts it. They sing because they have 
 to sing, and Gracie read because she had to 
 read. It was wholly a work of her own. 
 She was always a close observer, and 
 learned something with every glance and 
 every breath.” 
 
 “ I am glad of one thing, Sarah—that 
 
 her natural gaiety has not been impaired. 
 
 30 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 She remains a happy child, and is fond of 
 fun, despite her serious moods and her love 
 of study. We must guard against making 
 her old for her years and setting tasks too 
 heavy for her to carry out. Perhaps our 
 household ways are too formal and severe 
 for her. If so, we must be less exacting 
 and allow her more freedom.” 
 
 “ Trust me, my dear Emanuel. We are 
 not drawing the lines too taut. So long 
 as Grace knows the strength of our affec¬ 
 tion for her, she has firm confidence in our 
 judgment as to her training, and our house¬ 
 hold ways and rules never seem to be bur¬ 
 densome. Regularity, method, order, are 
 not tyrants in the home, but daily helpers. 
 Systematic rules really promote good habits 
 —attention, punctuality, meekness, thor¬ 
 oughness, and the rest. Otherwise all is 
 confusion, and little is accomplished with¬ 
 out friction of some kind.” 
 
 “You are right, dear wife; but it may 
 
 31 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 be that we dwell too much on our religion. 
 Might it not be better if we waited a few 
 years before talking to her about such mat¬ 
 ters? ” 
 
 “ I do not think we speak too much on 
 the subject, husband. Of course, I admit 
 that it can be overdone, and then it really 
 leads to mischief. If we were harsh, exact¬ 
 ing, tyrannical in our demands, and if we 
 asked our daughter to do what we our¬ 
 selves do not practice and believe in, then 
 your misgivings would be justified. But 
 our home has a natural atmosphere, with 
 love and faith and hope and kindness its 
 foundation. 
 
 “ As to your idea of waiting a few 
 years,” Mrs. Aguilar continued earnestly, 
 “ that would be a fatal mistake, unless we 
 could be certain that in the meantime she 
 w^ould be exposed to no influence that might 
 harm her, or mould her views in a wrong 
 direction. It was a wise man who said, 
 
HOME INFLUENCE 
 
 Let me write the people’s songs, I don’t 
 care who makes their laws. And so one 
 can say, Let me mould the child’s thoughts, 
 impress the child’s feelings, direct the 
 child’s ways; then it is of less account who 
 seeks to teach them when they grow to 
 manhood or womanhood. Their founda¬ 
 tions then will be fixed and firm. If parents 
 were wiser, they would regard childhood 
 as the vital period in education, and seek 
 the best methods of training the child. 
 And the great call to Israel is, ‘ Thou shalt 
 teach thy children,’ that is, when they are 
 children. That one emphatic command¬ 
 ment has preserved Israel for thousands of 
 years. Let us teach Grace, then, to the 
 best of our ability, by example as well as 
 precept, and we need have no fear for her 
 future. All will be well.” 
 
 “ My dear Sarah, you could not have 
 spoken more wisely,” her husband rejoined, 
 and then the conversation turned to other 
 matters. 
 
 ^ 83 
 
Ill 
 
 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 It was a few days later, the wreath of 
 flowers Grace had woven for her father 
 had not yet wholly withered. The morning 
 was sunny, the birds were singing, the sky 
 was without a cloud. 
 
 “ Grace,” Mrs. Aguilar exclaimed, 
 “ what a fine day for a walk! It is a pity 
 to stay indoors in such glorious weather. 
 Come, child, run out in the sunshine. It 
 will do you good.” 
 
 “ Now, mother,” she responded, “ I just 
 want to tidy up the room a little, and finish 
 my diary for the week, and then practice 
 my piano exercises, and then—” 
 
 “ O Mrs. Aguilar,” cried a young girl 
 as she entered the open door, “ will you not 
 let Gracie come with us this morning? 
 Maud, Sylvia, and I are off to the woods, 
 
 and we shall take our lunch with us, and a 
 
 34 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 little sewing to pass away the time. Do let 
 her come, do! ” And Agnes Cameron 
 kissed Mrs. Aguilar impulsively. 
 
 “ Why, that would be the very thing for 
 her,” Mrs. Aguilar replied. “ Now, 
 Agnes, just wait a minute, until I get ready 
 a little lunch for Grace, and then you both 
 can go.” 
 
 “ I’ll help you tidy up,” Agnes ex¬ 
 claimed, and she and Grace soon had 
 things swept and dusted, while they 
 laughed and romped and talked in a joyous 
 mood. It was Grace’s task to keep the par¬ 
 lor in order and have the ornaments and 
 furniture properly dusted—not a very diffi¬ 
 cult duty, but one that she had to attend to 
 promptly and thoroughly every day. With 
 Agnes’s help, it was quickly accomplished, 
 and the girls were walking arm in arm up 
 and down in front of the porch, their 
 labor over for the morning. 
 
 “ Here, my daughter,” Mrs. Aguilar 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 said, giving her a neat little package, 
 “ here is your luncheon.” 
 
 “ O you blessed mother,” cried the child, 
 as she opened it carefully. “ Why, I never 
 can eat all of it—boiled eggs, apples, cake, 
 a buttered roll I Mother, I shall never be 
 hungry enough to eat such a meal.” 
 
 “ Keep it, Grace. You don’t know how 
 hungry the woods will make us. It will be 
 an all-morning-and-afternoon picnic. Come 
 along. Good-bye, Mrs. Aguilar. I’ll take 
 good care of your little lambkin.” And 
 after repeated farewells and waving of 
 handkerchiefs, the two ran along the road, 
 and were soon lost to view. In a few 
 moments Mrs. Aguilar heard merry shouts 
 in the distance, with peals of girlish laugh¬ 
 ter. The rest of the party had met Agnes 
 and Grace, and the important journey to 
 the woods had begun in earnest. 
 
 And that was a journey! Talk about 
 
 old-time voyages of discovery, trips to the 
 
 36 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 land of Cathay, Baron Munchausen’s flight 
 across the Polar Sea on an eagle, the 
 exploits of Cortes, Pizarro, Drake, Colum¬ 
 bus, La Salle, and others of their daring I 
 Why, nothing could be compared with that 
 walk and run and saunter to the woods. 
 What hairbreadth escapes when they lost 
 the trail and plunged into darkness! What 
 heroism as they climbed tree stumps and 
 crashed through broken branches lying like 
 helpless giants stretched out in the path I 
 What endurance when now and then a 
 fly or some tiny insect alighted on their 
 arms or forehead and stung them unmer¬ 
 cifully! How bravely they controlled 
 their terror when they saw, or thought they 
 saw, a mouse about fifty feet distant! 
 How they almost screamed when, as they 
 tramped along under the overhanging 
 boughs, they noticed a panther, fierce¬ 
 eyed, right in front of them, which happily 
 
 ran up a tree at a rapid rate and proved to 
 
 37 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 be only a frisky squirrel! How they sang 
 and shouted and even whistled and, of 
 course, did lots of talking, as four bright, 
 healthy girls of their age might be expected 
 to do, particularly on such a morning and 
 in the woods of Old England. 
 
 So an hour or two passed, and it was 
 midday when suddenly they came to a little 
 clearing encircled by fragrant pine. “ Let’s 
 lunch here, girls,” Maud exclaimed. “ I 
 am getting hungry.” 
 
 “ It is just the spot,” said Sylvia. 
 
 “ All right,” Agnes added. “ Let’s 
 make ourselves comfortable.” 
 
 “ And I’ll set the table,” and Grace was 
 soon at work spreading a cloth on the 
 ground, around which the four girls sat. 
 Then, without further preparation, the 
 meal began. Their appetites were raven¬ 
 ous, and not a crumb was left behind. 
 
 It was a bright group of girls, who lived 
 
 near one another. Grace was the youngest, 
 
 38 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 but In some respects the most thoughtful. 
 Maud was a madcap of.thirteen, quick and 
 Impulsive, ready for any frolic when In the 
 mood. Yet she was so frank and cordial 
 that her outburst was soon forgotten and 
 forgiven. Sylvia was also thirteen, some¬ 
 what timid In speech and manner, but kind- 
 hearted and helpful. Agnes was fourteen, 
 and the leader In every pastime or gaiety. 
 She had had exceptional advantages, her 
 uncle and aunt being literary celebrities, 
 who dearly loved their clever niece. She 
 was tall and strong, and by some mysterious 
 law was doubly attracted to Grace, who 
 was of slender build and delicate frame. 
 
 “And now what shall we do?” asked 
 Sylvia. “ If we only had more cold tea! ” 
 “ Let us rest against that huge tree over 
 there,” suggested Maud. 
 
 “ Good, girls,” Agnes exclaimed, “ and 
 then we can talk until It Is time to return 
 home.” 
 
 39 
 
 V 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “ What shall we talk about? ” Grace 
 inquired. 
 
 “ Well, let us tell of the most wonderful 
 thing we have heard, and I’ll start, girls,” 
 said Agnes, in her most impressive manner, 
 raising one finger to her forehead, and 
 pointing it at her audience. “ The most 
 wonderful—” 
 
 “ —girl in the world,” Maud inter¬ 
 rupted, “ is Agnes.” 
 
 “ It isn’t fair to interrupt. As I was 
 going to say, the most wonderful thing in 
 the world is the Chinese Wall. It is over 
 twelve hundred miles in length and twenty 
 feet in height. Just think of that.” 
 
 “ That is nothing,” said Maud, after a 
 pause. “ I think the most wonderful thing 
 in the world is the Old Desert in Africa, 
 three thousand miles in length, where the 
 rain falls at intervals of five, ten, and 
 twenty years. I fancy that umbrellas are 
 rare in that country. Don’t you agree with 
 me, girls? ” 
 
 40 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 There was a unanimous shout of agree¬ 
 ment, and then it was Sylvia’s turn. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, I think— I think— I think—” 
 
 “ Listen, girls, Sylvia thinks,” and Maud 
 began to laugh. 
 
 “ I think,” Sylvia continued, undisturbed 
 by Maud’s raillery, “ I think that—. Oh, 
 I don’t know, but I can tell you some good 
 jokes. Will that do?” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, Sylvia,” Agnes said. “ Go 
 on, child.” 
 
 “ Well, girls talk least in February, my 
 brother says, because it is the shortest 
 month. And we all go to bed, because, 
 because the bed does not come to us. 
 And our eyes are just like slaves—they are 
 always under lashes. There! That is all I 
 know.” 
 
 The girls laughed heartily at Sylvia’s 
 jokes, and then Grace began her wonder 
 story. 
 
 “ The most wonderful thing I ever 
 
 41 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 heard is the account of a flower in the East, 
 called the rose of Jericho, which my 
 father read to me last night. This plant, 
 when fully developed, contracts its branches 
 so as to form a ball. When exposed to the 
 wind, it is blown towards the sea, and it 
 is gathered and exported to Europe.” 
 
 “ What is wonderful about that? ” 
 Agnes asked with a rather superior air. 
 
 “ Just wait, Agnes, and I’ll tell you 
 where the wonder comes in. When you 
 plunge the plant, apparently dead and all 
 dried up, into water, the buds swell with 
 new life, the calyx leaves open, the petals 
 unfold, the flower stalk grows, and full¬ 
 blown flowers appear. But if you remove 
 it from the water, it dies. The plant is 
 called Anastatica, or resurrection plant.” 
 
 “ O Grade,” Agnes exclaimed, kissing 
 
 her, “ you do tell a story so prettily. I 
 
 must take you to my aunt, Mrs. Hall. I 
 
 have often told her about you. She writes 
 
 the loveliest stories and—” 
 
 42 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 “Who’s there?” Maud shouted, rising 
 to her feet, as some one was seen moving 
 through the opposite trees. The girls 
 sprang up in alarm. 
 
 A poor woman, carrying a baby, slowly 
 came out of the thicket, and stopped at the 
 clearing when she saw the group of girls 
 standing close together. She was evidently 
 a newcomer, some wanderer from a foreign 
 land. She was dark-eyed, and her face was 
 of olive color. Her dress was torn, her 
 shoes broken, but the baby held in her arms 
 was as happy and smiling as if it were heir 
 to a kingdom. 
 
 The woman stood, half ashamed, half 
 afraid of the silence of the girls, which she 
 thought came from hostility to her. 
 
 Agnes was the first to recover from the 
 -fright. 
 
 “ My good woman,” she addressed her, 
 
 advancing toward her, as Maud afterward 
 
 said, like Queen Boadicea towards the 
 
 Roman general, “ what do you want? ” 
 
 43 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 The woman was silent, but the baby 
 gurgled and smiled at its own sweet will. 
 
 “ Come away, girls,” Sylvia exclaimed. 
 “ It is a witch, a Jewess; she will harm us 
 if we stay any longer.” 
 
 “ If she is a Jewess,” and Grace rushed 
 impetuously forward, “ she is my sister, 
 one of my people, and I will help her.” 
 
 “ O Grade,” Sylvia cried, “ I meant no 
 harm. Do forgive me, won’t you? ” 
 
 The woman looked on, much interested 
 in the girls’ agitation, and the baby laughed 
 louder than ever. 
 
 “ Are you a Jewess, a woman of 
 Israel? ” Grace asked in her softest tones, 
 as if she were addressing a duchess of the 
 land. “ Tell me, please, for I am a Jewess, 
 too.” 
 
 For a moment the woman stared at the 
 child, as if she did not fully understand her. 
 Then came a gleam of intelligence on her 
 face. 
 
 44 
 
AN ADVENTURE 
 
 ‘‘ No, no; no Jewess. Me gypsy woman. 
 Come, pretty girl. Give me hand, and I 
 will tell fortune,” and she smiled upon 
 Grace in a way intended to be very win¬ 
 ning, but which proved the reverse, for 
 Grace and the rest at once burst out laugh¬ 
 ing. 
 
 “ Thank you very much,” Grace ex¬ 
 claimed, ‘‘ we do not wish to have our for¬ 
 tunes told. Have you lost your way? ” 
 
 “ Shall we summon our chariot for the 
 fair dame?” Maud asked; and again the 
 girls laughed, the baby joining in the mirth. 
 
 The woman felt by this time that there 
 was no chance of earning sixpences, and 
 she began to move backward into the 
 woods, but she halted as Agnes stepped up 
 and said, “ If you let us all kiss your baby, 
 we shall give you sixpence.” As she offered 
 no opposition, the four girls in their eager¬ 
 ness to kiss it almost crushed the helpless 
 baby to death. And then mother and baby 
 
 slowly passed out of sight. 
 
 45 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ‘‘ Grace, you must forgive me,” Sylvia 
 implored as all returned to their resting- 
 place under the tree. “ It was rude and 
 unpardonable to speak as I did.” 
 
 “ It was rude, Sylvia,” Grace rejoined, 
 “ but not unpardonable,” kissing her. 
 ‘‘ Only for the future please do not call 
 Jewesses witches. What an ignorant world! 
 Why, ages and ages ago Moses forbade my 
 ancestors to consult fortune-tellers or en¬ 
 courage witchcraft. But, girls, I think it is 
 getting late. Let’s return home.” 
 
 The girls were of the same mind, and 
 soon they were merrily romping through 
 the woods In the afternoon sunshine. 
 
 What a delightful day,” Agnes ex¬ 
 claimed as they reached the road leading 
 to the Aguilar home. 
 
 “ And what a delightful baby,” Maud 
 added, as both kissed Grace on parting, 
 while Sylvia shyly pressed her hand. 
 
 46 
 
IV 
 
 A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 A favorite hour with Grace was Satur¬ 
 day morning, after the Sabbath prayers 
 had been said, when her parents talked or, 
 better, chatted with her. She would sit on 
 the sofa between them, and wait eagerly 
 for the conversation to begin. And she 
 had not long to wait, for her parents were 
 as eager to impart to her what they thought 
 she ought to know. Sometimes they would 
 speak of different countries, sometimes of 
 famous cities, often of celebrated writers, 
 and now and then they would explain Jew¬ 
 ish customs and ceremonies. In the course 
 of a year or two a large amount of knowl¬ 
 edge was thus gained, without formal les¬ 
 son or text-book; and Grace never wearied 
 of these Sabbath chats. In this way she 
 
 absorbed, she drank in, a precious store of 
 
 47 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Information, which was to guide and 
 strengthen her mind In maturer years. 
 
 It is a grave mistake to entrust the edu¬ 
 cation of the young to an Inferior teacher. 
 They require the best and ablest, more even 
 than the riper and older student. Not only 
 Is their progress checked by placing them in 
 the hands of a poorly equipped Instructor, 
 but they are taught wrong methods and 
 ideas, which It takes years to correct and 
 dislodge. If, indeed. It Is at all possible. 
 The child demands the best that can be 
 given In every field. 
 
 It was Grace’s great privilege to have the 
 best teachers, her father and mother, both 
 refined and intelligent. They gave her 
 freely not only of their warmth of affection, 
 but of their wealth of knowledge. iThey 
 were widely read, of broad culture and 
 ripened experience. They had travelled 
 and seen much. They were open-minded, 
 as glad to welcome a new idea as to greet a 
 new friend. 
 
 48 
 
A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 “ Now, what shall I tell you this morn¬ 
 ing, my daughter?” Mr. Aguilar asked, 
 patting Grace softly on the cheek. 
 
 “ I should like to hear more about the 
 cities of Spain. You told me last week about 
 the Golden Tower of Seville, which the 
 kings of Castile gave to wealthy Jews as a 
 residence. Do you not remember, father 
 dear? ” 
 
 “ Perfectly, my daughter. So now we 
 shall turn to Toledo, long ago the capital 
 of Castile and one of the oldest cities of 
 Europe that survive. It Is a city built on a 
 rock, or rather on a number of hills, and 
 although It has suffered the ravages of fire 
 and flood, of war and pillage. It Is a very 
 Interesting place to-day, and Is visited by 
 many tourists from all over the world.” 
 
 “ Perhaps we may travel there,” Grace 
 suggested smilingly. 
 
 “ I hardly think, my daughter, we 
 should like to journey so far as Spain,” 
 
 49 
 
 4 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Mrs. Aguilar replied. “ But let us not 
 interrupt your father.” 
 
 “ If we were to go to Toledo to-day, wc 
 should first visit its two famous synagogues. 
 One was built about the middle of the thir¬ 
 teenth century, the other, about a century 
 later. The first became a church in 1405, 
 and Its name was changed to Santa Maria 
 la Blanca. Within it is a fine example of 
 later Saracenic architecture. The building 
 is eighty-one feet long by sixty-three wide. 
 The nave and aisles are separated from 
 each other by four rows of octagonal col¬ 
 umns, from which spring horseshoe arches. 
 The ornamentation and design are varied. 
 The roof is of fragrant pinewood.” 
 
 “ What happened to the building after It 
 became a church? ” Grace Inquired. 
 
 “ The Catholics made slight additions. 
 Including three altars. About the middle 
 of the sixteenth century. It was used as a 
 kind of asylum, and later turned Into bar- 
 
 50 
 
A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 racks for soldiers. I believe it is now 
 closed.” 
 
 “ Do you think it will ever be restored 
 as a synagogue, Emanuel?” was Mrs. 
 Aguilar’s inquiry. 
 
 “ I cannot tell. All depends upon the 
 character of the Spanish Government and 
 people. I do not think Jews are allowed 
 to enter the kingdom.” * 
 
 “ And the other synagogue, father? ” 
 
 “ I think it was erected in 1357 by a very 
 eminent man, Samuel Ha-Levi, treasurer 
 of Don Pedro I. The architect was an 
 Israelite, too. It is called El Transito, 
 and in style is Moorish, of a later period. 
 It is seventy-six feet in length and thirty-one 
 feet in width, and very beautifully decor¬ 
 ated, especially the arches, with exquisite 
 
 * Had the Aguilars lived to the close of the nineteenth 
 century, they would have known that both synagogues 
 were restored by the Government, and that Jews were 
 freely admitted to Spain, which was to become a 
 republic. 
 
 51 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 lattice-work, and there is a fine cedar roof. 
 On the western wall can be read Hebrew 
 inscriptions, in which Samuel Ha-Levi is 
 described as ‘ a man of peace, powerful 
 among all the people, and a great builder,’ 
 while of King Don Pedro it is written, 
 ‘ May God be with him and all his house, 
 and every man be humbled before him.’ 
 Within a year after the synagogue was built 
 the treasurer was accused of dishonesty by 
 his enemies, forced to leave Toledo, seized 
 at Seville, and by order of Pedro put to 
 death. His vast fortune and that of his 
 relatives became forfeit to the king.” 
 
 “ What a sudden change,” Grace ex¬ 
 claimed with a shudder. 
 
 “Oh, that is common in the history of the 
 world. Kings have short memories,” Mrs. 
 Aguilar observed. 
 
 “ There must have been a large Jewish 
 community there, was there not, father? ” 
 Grace asked. 
 
 52 
 
A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 “ Large, wealthy, and famous m Its 
 day,” Mr. Aguilar replied. “ There was 
 born our peerless writer, Judah HallevI, 
 and the eminent commentator Abraham 
 Ibn Ezra; there flourished the philosopher 
 Abraham Ibn Daud and the poet AlcharlsI, 
 and a host of scholars during many gener¬ 
 ations. But all these passed away, and the 
 synagogue, after 1492, was handed over to 
 an order of monks, who dedicated It to St. 
 Benedict. In the history of these two syna¬ 
 gogues what joy and sorrow are mingled! 
 But I fear I am wearying you.” 
 
 “The Idea, father! Do tell me more 
 about Toledo. What else could we see if 
 we went there to-day? ” 
 
 “ You could see the house In which lived 
 Samuel Ha-Levi, no longer a palace. If ever 
 It was, though none the less an Imposing 
 structure. In the cellar was found much 
 treasure, which was seized by King Pedro. 
 Samuel’s enemies said It had been unlaw- 
 
 53 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 fully obtained, a charge not proved abso¬ 
 lutely. But listen now while I tell you 
 about a church.” Grace and her mother 
 were all attention. 
 
 “ Not very far from the old house of the 
 luckless treasurer of Castile Is a beautiful 
 church. Let us enter and examine the pub 
 pit, shaped like an hour-glass. One Sunday 
 —It was In 1391—a gentle preacher spoke 
 to the people from the holy place. His 
 name was Vincent Ferrer. And he spoke 
 so forcibly that In a day or two thousands 
 of Jews, men, women, and children, were 
 put to death, and the glory of Toledo 
 Israel received a crushing blow. When he 
 returned, twenty years later, there were but 
 few Israelites left to arouse his rage. How¬ 
 ever, he had one of the synagogues changed 
 Into a church, the Santa Marla la Blanca, 
 as I mentioned a few minutes ago. And 
 that pulpit can be seen still.” Mr. Aguilar 
 
 stopped for a moment, then continued: 
 
 54 
 
A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 “ But there is more to be seen in Toledo. 
 It is only a short walk from the church to a 
 plain building that bears on Its front the 
 inscription in Spanish, ‘ The Brotherhood.’ 
 The door is an ordinary door, but if it had 
 the power of speech, what could it not tell 
 us! For through that door hundreds of 
 our brethren went to their doom. It is the 
 house of the Inquisition, which turned Spain 
 in the latter part of the fifteenth century 
 into a cemetery of the helpless and the inno¬ 
 cent It tortured. It seems almost Incredible 
 that human beings should act with such 
 fiendish cruelty and In the name of rell- 
 gion. 
 
 “ When Madam Roland was led to 
 death In the Reign of Terror In France,” 
 Mrs. Aguilar remarked, “ her last words 
 were, ‘ O liberty, liberty, what crimes are 
 committed In thy name 1 ’ And one might 
 similarly exclaim, ‘ O religion, religion, 
 
 what crimes are committed In thy name I 
 
 55 
 
 i 1} 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ‘‘ One story has come down to us from 
 that period,” Mr. Aguilar continued, “ of 
 a young Jewess, a faithful daughter, who 
 was put to death for a singular crime. In 
 that period the Jews were not allowed to 
 celebrate the Sabbath or the Passover, to 
 hold religious services, or even say Hebrew 
 prayers. One day this girl’s mother became 
 gravely Ill, and she thought the hour of 
 death was near. She had her daughter sum¬ 
 moned, and begged her to repeat the 
 Shemang. And as the mother passed away, 
 the girl uttered the Hebrew words, She¬ 
 mang YIsrael, ‘ Hear, O Israel, the Lord 
 Our God, the Lord Is One,’ Israel’s watch¬ 
 word through the ages. For this fearful 
 crime the daughter was hurried to the hall 
 of the Inquisition, and there put to death 
 under the sharpest torture.” 
 
 “ O father, I am so glad that no one pre¬ 
 vents my studying Hebrew or reading my 
 Hebrew prayers,” said Grace. 
 
 56 
 
A SABBATH CHAT 
 
 “ You should be more than glad, my 
 child,” her mother exclaimed. “ You 
 should be grateful for the privilege. To 
 think that to-day, after so many centuries 
 of change and destruction, you can read 
 and speak the words of Psalmist and 
 Prophet. I wish more of our boys and 
 girls appreciated this privilege. Of what 
 use is the Torah to us, if we are unable to 
 read it, of what avail the poetry and phil¬ 
 osophy of Holy Writ, if we cannot under¬ 
 stand the language in which it has been 
 preserved for all time? Now, I do not 
 say that boys and girls should know it as 
 thoroughly as if they were college pro¬ 
 fessors, but they ought to have some knowl¬ 
 edge, together with love and enthusiasm for 
 their heritage. They are none the less 
 English boys and girls, proud of Old Eng¬ 
 land and its spirit of freedom, which is 
 taught as our English inheritance.” 
 
 “ Perhaps, Grace,” Mr. Aguilar said, 
 
 67 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 rising from the sofa, “ we have had a 
 rather serious chat for a Sabbath morning. 
 It is a wonderful history, the story of the 
 Jews of Spain. And it is a story which we 
 Jews to-day should never forget, although 
 we live in peace and contentment. Now, 
 Grace, please see if you can help your 
 mother get dinner ready. You ought to be 
 hungry after listening to such a long 
 recital.” 
 
 “ Yes, I am, indeed, hungry,” the child 
 said, gazing earnestly at him, “ I am hungry 
 for more. I wish it were next Sabbath.” 
 
 “ Ah, you want to have two dinners at 
 once, you rogue, do you?” and Mr. 
 Aguilar laughed heartily as Grace ran to 
 help her mother. 
 
 68 
 
V 
 
 A NEW FRIEND 
 
 The days and weeks went by quickly, 
 marked by no great event in Grace’s life, 
 no wonderful incidents to be chronicled. 
 There were tasks to be done punctually, 
 home duties to be performed quietly. 
 Music, reading, sewing, dally lessons with 
 her mother, a short essay weekly, and the 
 dally entry In her precious diary, this kept 
 her mornings fully occupied. In the after¬ 
 noon she would romp In the orchard with 
 one or two of her girl friends, or walk out 
 In the woods with them. She would spend 
 time tidying the garden or arranging her 
 collection of shells. She did not know 
 how to be Idle. One afternoon she was In 
 the orchard reading a favorite book, when 
 her mother called to her from the porch: 
 
 “ O Grace, I have something to say to 
 
 59 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “What is it, mother?’’ asked Grace, 
 running to her. 
 
 “ I met Agnes Cameron a little while 
 ago, and she said that her aunt, Mrs. Hall, 
 was coming to see us this afternoon. She 
 wishes very much to meet you. Why, 
 there they are,” and soon Mrs. Hall was 
 the centre of an interested circle. She was 
 a clever, entertaining woman, only recently 
 married to an artist of some distinction, 
 and she was already showing marked 
 ability in her articles in the press. She was 
 cheerful and animated, as was to be 
 expected from one of Irish birth. In her 
 fifteenth year she had left Dublin, and had 
 lived since in London, where she had 
 gained a host of friends. She liked particu¬ 
 larly young friends, and was glad to be 
 brought to the Aguilars, to whose daughter 
 her niece Agnes was attached so tenderly. 
 
 “ Mrs. Aguilar,” she exclaimed, after 
 
 they had chatted a while, “ I have a 
 
 60 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 request to make of you. Agnes has talked 
 so much of Grace to me that I know her 
 almost as well as she does.” And she 
 smiled as she clasped Grace’s hand. 
 
 “ And what Is this request, Mrs. Hall? ” 
 Mrs. Aguilar asked somewhat amused, for 
 she imagined what was desired. 
 
 “ I want Grace with me for a morning. 
 If not a whole day. In London. I want to 
 show her the sights, the shops, the people. 
 Do let her come, Mrs. Aguilar.” 
 
 “ Do,” implored Agnes, “ do let her go. 
 She will have the time of her life.” 
 
 “ And it will not be, Mrs. Aguilar, like 
 poor Mike MacGowan, who was sent to 
 jail for fifty years, and had the time of his 
 life! ” and again Mrs. Hall smiled In her 
 winning manner. 
 
 “ It Is very, very kind of you, Mrs. 
 Hall,” Mrs. Aguilar said, “ to take so 
 much Interest in my daughter. I shall let 
 Grace answer for herself. Do you wish 
 
 61 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 to spend a morning in London with Mrs. 
 Hall?” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, mother,” Grace answered 
 joyously. “ I should dearly like to go. 
 Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Hall.” 
 
 “ My daughter accepts your kind invita¬ 
 tion, and will be ready any day to accom¬ 
 pany you. Only do not let her see such 
 magnificent sights that she will not look 
 with favor on her quiet home when she 
 returns.” 
 
 “ Mother dear, there is no danger of 
 that,” Grace replied with an impulsive 
 embrace. 
 
 “ She will love the quiet home and its 
 gentle ways only the more for her brief 
 absence,” Mrs. Hall exclaimed, as she rose 
 to leave. “ I shall call, Grace, within a 
 few days, and bring you back safe and 
 sound before dark. Good-bye, dearie. 
 Good morning, Mrs. Aguilar.” 
 
 And the same week Grace found herself 
 
 62 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 in the streets of London, side by side with 
 Mrs. Hall, who was fond of walking, and 
 an excellent guide as well as companion. 
 They were soon a distance from her home, 
 which was near the British Museum, and in 
 the course of a few hours they saw many 
 famous sights, besides having a light lunch 
 at a tea-shop. The parks with the well- 
 kept paths, the markets full of fresh flowers 
 and vegetables, the window boxes of blos¬ 
 soms In many houses that enlivened the 
 dusty stone work or smoke-blackened 
 bricks, aroused her admiration. Then, as 
 they turned Into the business thoroughfares, 
 with their long line of warehouses, hurrying 
 throngs of people, deafening noise of car¬ 
 riage, wagon, and ’bus, with bridges In the 
 distance veiled In fog, Grace clung to Mrs. 
 Hall half In fear. But she overcame her 
 timidity when Mrs. Hall began to talk. 
 
 “ Just think, Grace, that Shakespeare 
 
 once trod this street, the Strand, and not 
 
 63 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 far from here he acted in his theatre. And 
 as he strolled across the old bridge, how he 
 must have studied the faces of passers-by 
 and watched their attitudes! He was a 
 careful observer, and that is why his works 
 live to-day, and will live for ages to come. 
 Many of his songs and speeches, his clowns 
 and princes, sprang into his mind amid 
 these crowded, narrow streets.” 
 
 “ But, Mrs. Hall,” Grace quickly re¬ 
 joined, “ surely his Oberon, with his ‘ wild 
 thyme, oxlip, and nodding violet,’ could not 
 have sprung from the London streets. 
 Shakespeare must have thought of the fields 
 around Stratford, when he wrote, ‘ Cuckoo 
 buds of yellow hue do paint the meadows 
 with delight’ ” 
 
 “ Grace, you adorable girl, I never 
 thought you knew your Shakespeare so 
 well.” 
 
 “We spent a month at Stratford on one 
 of our journeys.” 
 
 64 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 “ Did you, dear? Come, let us hurry 
 on. There is Fleet Street, and you can 
 imagine Doctor Johnson taking his walk 
 up and down, with Boswell at his heels. 
 He loved his cup of tea—or shall we say 
 tay?—and his Fleet Street—and—” 
 
 At this moment, a tall man of about 
 forty, well-dressed and clear-eyed, drew 
 near and bowed to Mrs. Hall. 
 
 “ O Mr. Montefiore,” she exclaimed, 
 leading Grace to him. “ This is Grace 
 Aguilar, Mr. Emanuel Aguilar’s daughter, 
 to whom I am showing a bit of London, 
 a rare bit, indeed.” 
 
 “ I am, indeed, glad to meet you, my 
 daughter,” Mr. Montefiore rejoined. “I 
 know your parents very well. They are 
 both good friends of mine, and deservedly 
 held in high esteem.” 
 
 “ And I am glad to meet you, Mr. Mon¬ 
 tefiore. My father told me only a few 
 days ago that you had just returned from 
 the Holy Land.” 
 
 5 
 
 65 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “ Yes, indeed, my first, but not my last, 
 journey, I trust, to the land of our fathers, 
 may the Almighty restore its greatness 
 and rebuild its desolated cities! ’’ The 
 words came reverently to his lips amid the 
 stir and bustle of one of London’s busiest 
 streets. “ And now, ladies, I must bid you 
 good-day,” he adde'd in a courtly manner. 
 “ Give my very kindest regards to your 
 dear parents, and beg them to bring you to 
 see me and my wife at the earliest oppor¬ 
 tunity. And you, Mrs. Hall, tell your 
 good husband that I should like him to call 
 next Wednesday. It is possible that I may 
 have secured a good patron for him. He 
 does fine work, madam, fine work. Good- 
 day! ” and the tall form disappeared in 
 the throng. 
 
 “ That is a remarkable man, Grace,” 
 Mrs. Hall observed. “ He is all good¬ 
 ness.” 
 
 “ Yes, and how he loves the Holy Land! 
 
 66 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 To utter a prayer in the open street for its 
 restoration! ” added Grace. 
 
 “ Look, Grace, look at that young man, 
 so extravagantly dressed, with a cane in his 
 hand and constantly bowing to people! ” 
 
 “ Why, he seems to know everybody,” 
 said Grace, wonderingly. “ What a curi¬ 
 ous curl on his forehead, as he raised his 
 hat! Is he an actor, Mrs. Hall? ” 
 
 That is young Disraeli, the son of 
 Isaac Disraeli, who is a kind of literary 
 hermit. Perhaps I may take you some 
 morning to his den. The son is an extraor¬ 
 dinary man of about twenty-four. His first 
 novel, ‘ Vivian Grey,’ is still the talk of the 
 town. He was eighteen when he wrote it. 
 I fancy he intends to be Prime Minister 
 some of these days. He has enough ambi¬ 
 tion, although it may overleap itself. 
 There, he is talking to Samuel Rogers, who 
 counts his verses and his bonds, for he is a 
 banker poet. Rogers is a family friend, 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and at his advice Isaac Disraeli had his 
 family baptized.” 
 
 “ Oh, Mrs. Hall, how could they forsake 
 the living God of Israel? ” and Grace was 
 
 i 
 
 deeply moved. 
 
 “ Tut, tut, tut, child! It was merely pique 
 on his part. I don’t think he cared much 
 for any other God than his book dust. He 
 had a quarrel with the synagogue about the 
 payment of a fine, and in anger at what he 
 considered an unjust claim he left the con¬ 
 gregation, and had his children baptized. 
 You can ask your parents more about the 
 matter. But it is growing late, and we 
 must return home, although not until I 
 show you New Court, where the Roths¬ 
 childs have their office. Look, it is that 
 plain building. They are kings in the 
 world of business, and strictly honorable in 
 all their dealings, as every nation knows.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, Mrs. Hall. I read all about 
 
 the Rothschilds, and how they got their 
 
 68 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 name from the red shield on the old home 
 in Frankfort. Didn’t they? ” 
 
 “ Yes, indeed. The history of that 
 family is as interesting as a romance. But 
 really, Grace, we must hurry. I promised 
 to bring you home before dark. Come, my 
 child.” 
 
 Grace reached home a little after dark. 
 Her parents had not been at all worried on 
 her account, for they knew that she was in 
 safe hands. They thanked Mrs. Hall 
 warmly for her kindness, and she left after 
 inviting Grace to spend an entire day with 
 her in a few weeks. While the Aguilars 
 resided in the outskirts of London, Grace, 
 usually accompanied by her friend Agnes, 
 visited Mrs. Hall often, and came to know 
 some of the famous artists and writers of 
 the time. Under her guidance she went to 
 Westminster Abbey with its tombs and 
 memorials of great men, or to the Tower 
 
 of London with its gloomy and gruesome 
 
 69 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 memories, or to the old nooks and corners 
 associated with the lives and works of emi¬ 
 nent authors of the past, of which London 
 was then so full. And Grace never tired 
 of these trips. 
 
 “ Mrs. Hall,” she said once to her 
 friend, “ you know I intend to be a writer.” 
 
 “ That is a noble profession. Perhaps 
 some day I may edit a magazine, and have 
 you as a contributor. Tell me, Grace, have 
 you written anything yet? ” 
 
 “ Well,” the girl replied shyly, “ I write 
 every day in my diary, and I am planning a 
 drama.” 
 
 “ A drama, Grace I Why, that is aiming 
 pretty high, is it not? ” 
 
 “ It is about Gustavus Vasa, the hero of 
 Sweden. I do not know if I shall ever 
 have time to finish it,” and Grace sighed. 
 
 “ And what other literary plans have 
 you. Miss Shakespeare-Milton? ” 
 
 “ You will not laugh if I tell you? You 
 
 70 
 
A NEW FRIEND 
 
 promise, promise, promise! ” And Mrs. 
 Hall solemnly promised. 
 
 “ Well, I want to champion my people 
 and my religion,” she said proudly. 
 
 “ Dearest Grace, no wish could be 
 nobler, no aim higher. Perhaps I may aid 
 you. Who can tell? ” 
 
 Ah, who can tell how each human life 
 is guided, how influences are brought to 
 bear on each one of us, how, when once our 
 thoughts and ambitions are turned in the 
 right direction, a thousand friends are at 
 our side, although we know it not? Who 
 could tell how deeply in the coming years 
 Mrs. Hall was to love Grace Aguilar, how 
 useful was to be her counsel, and how, at 
 the last, she was to make a pilgrimage to 
 her friend’s grave at Frankfort, not very 
 far from the Rothschild house, and write 
 so tender and inspiring a tribute in her 
 memory? 
 
 71 
 
VI 
 
 LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 Most boys and girls are fond, at one 
 time in their lives, of keeping a diary. At 
 least they start, with much resolution, a 
 diary that shall record their daily expe¬ 
 riences. With what care they begin the 
 first page, as if it were the most solemn 
 matter in the world! How faithfully they 
 write the next day’s chronicle, and the next, 
 and possibly the next, and then the entries 
 become less and less, and after a few 
 attempts to recover lost ground and do 
 the task properly, they cease altogether. A 
 few pages, some fragmentary records, a 
 date and an address here and there, that is 
 the diary of most of them. 
 
 Now, to keep a diary properly and faith¬ 
 fully is a delightful occupation. Never 
 mind how busy we may be and how active at 
 
 school or at home, at play or at our studies, 
 
 72 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 it is always possible to take a few minutes, 
 ten or fifteen at the most, and write down 
 the interesting incidents of each day, some 
 briefly and others at greater length. What 
 we see and hear, the many topics that are 
 brought to our attention, the hopes we cher¬ 
 ish, the plans we are considering, the happy 
 thoughts that occur to us^—why should we 
 not try to retain these in our memory? By 
 keeping a diary we improve in many ways. 
 We learn to write more correctly and 
 express our thoughts more fluently. After 
 a few months we can realize the progress 
 we are making. Of course, in such a diary 
 we should not exaggerate or magnify what 
 takes place, nor should we write too much 
 about ourselves, as if we were the most 
 important people in the world. We should 
 avoid recording mere trifles and moods, 
 passing swiftly as the flight of birds. We 
 should fasten upon what is real, genuine, 
 and vital. 
 
 \ 
 
 73 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 From her babyhood, pencil and paper 
 had had a fascination for Grace. They 
 were the toys that satisfied her for hours. 
 Merely to draw odd lines and scratch the 
 soft surface of the paper was a delight to 
 her. Gradually the lines became more 
 regular, and little by little, when she 
 noticed the larger letters on newspapers 
 and shop signs, she began to form her let¬ 
 ters. With some help from her mother, 
 always ready to aid, she next wrote short 
 words, then simple sentences, and before 
 her seventh year her progress was so 
 marked that she could send a neatly written 
 and well-composed letter to her father when 
 he was away on one of his trips. 
 
 It was in about her seventh year that she 
 began to keep regularly a daily journal, or 
 diary, jotting down what she saw or heard 
 or thought, with the strictest regard for the 
 truth. After visiting a new scene, or meet¬ 
 ing some friend of her parents who had just 
 
 74 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 returned from abroad, she delighted to 
 record the impression that such incidents 
 made. Her parents were fond of the 
 beauties of nature, and early directed her 
 attention to what was particularly lovely 
 or striking in the landscape, in wave and 
 cloud, in starlight and sunset. No flower 
 and no shrub were too small to escape her 
 notice. And in her diary she would recall 
 anything unusual in the many objects she 
 observed on her journeyings with her 
 parents, whether a shell or a plant, a rock 
 or a tree. It was the beauty of the scenery 
 in Devonshire that inspired Grace, when 
 the Aguilars went to reside there, to write 
 her earliest verse, which showed promise of 
 greater merit with the years. Here it was 
 that her parents noticed her poetical gifts, 
 and tried to develop her taste and improve 
 her mind. They were careful not to praise 
 her too much, when she showed them a poem 
 
 she had written, nor did they discourage 
 
 75 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 her. She knew, however, that there were 
 more important duties to be done than writ¬ 
 ing poetry. Hence she wrote few poems, 
 which showed wise restraint on her part. 
 
 After her first day in London with Mrs. 
 Hall, her diary, always thoughtful, assumed 
 a still more serious spirit. More and more, 
 without losing its simplicity, it became a 
 treasure house of her dearest thoughts and 
 resolves. What her playmates said and 
 did, Maud’s pleasantry, Sylvia’s timidity, 
 or Agnes’s helpful counsel were recorded 
 less and less, while the thoughts inspired by 
 a book, or suggested by a conversation with 
 her parents, were reported at greater length 
 and with more frequency. 
 
 “ 1828, August II. Mother took me 
 yesterday to meet Mr. and Mrs. Monte- 
 fiore. They were very kind, and they asked 
 us to come soon again. Mrs. Montefiore is 
 
 a very sweet woman, so devoted to her hus- 
 
 76 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 band, who looks like a giant next to her. 
 She has a gentle voice and loving ways. 
 Both appear to be of one spirit in their love 
 of Jerusalem. I noticed the name in 
 Hebrew In different parts of their sunny 
 parlor, on the wall and over the centre 
 window. Mr. Montefiore spoke Interest¬ 
 ingly about his recent trip to Palestine. He 
 thinks the young men and women there 
 need to be taught useful trades and occupa¬ 
 tions, and the people should engage more 
 In tilling the soil, as our fathers did ages 
 ago. He regards it as the highest purpose 
 of his life to help Jerusalem, so that the 
 ‘ waste places of Zion shall rejoice ’ and 
 ‘ the wilderness blossom like the rose.’ I 
 was too timid to speak; I only listened to 
 his kind and wise words. How dearly 
 should I like to visit them again and tell 
 them all I wish and hope for when I grow 
 older! I do not think that I should make 
 
 It so much my aim to go to Palestine and 
 
 77 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 help to educate my people there, as to teach 
 them here in England and their neighbors 
 of other creeds how noble and beautiful our 
 religion is.” 
 
 Grace always had reverence for Jerusa¬ 
 lem, and somewhat later, after listening to 
 organ music in one of the London churches, 
 —organs were not permitted in the syna¬ 
 gogues—she composed a lengthy poem on 
 “ A Vision of Jerusalem,” which she after¬ 
 wards rewrote. These few opening verses 
 illustrate her fervent style: 
 
 I saw thee, O my fatherland, my beautiful, my own I 
 As if thy God had raised thee, from the dust where 
 thou art strewn. 
 
 His glory cast around thee, and thy children bound 
 to Him, 
 
 In links so brightly woven, no sin their light could dim. 
 
 Methought the cymbal’s sacred sound came softly on 
 my ear; 
 
 The timbrel and the psaltery and the harp’s full notes 
 were near; 
 
 And thousand voices chanted His glory to upraise. 
 More heavenly and thrillingly than e’en in David’s 
 days. 
 
 78 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 “ 1828, September ii. My mother told 
 me a thrilling thought this morning—just as 
 different flowers blossom in different parts 
 of the world, so there are good qualities in 
 the various religions. No religion should 
 say, All the good qualities are in me, and 
 my blossoms surpass in beauty and perfume 
 those elsewhere. For a wise purpose God 
 has sent to earth the Jew, the Christian, 
 and the Mahometan, and when these real¬ 
 ize their best principles, then is our Mes¬ 
 siah’s coming hastened and the era of per¬ 
 fection near. The Jew may feel that his 
 religion is the best—and it is the best for 
 him—but it is not right for him to boast of 
 it before others. That only arouses their 
 enmity. Let the Jew show his superiority 
 by the superior life, my mother said. She 
 thinks that much of the prejudice against 
 the Jew is due to the claim that he is better 
 than his neighbor. He should say like 
 Cassius to Brutus in Shakespeare’s Julius 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Caesar, ‘ I said an older not a better 
 soldier; ’’ 
 
 “ 1828, September 17. I like Maud, I 
 admire Sylvia, but I love Agnes. I like 
 Maud for her humor and her cheerfulness. 
 I admire Sylvia for her modest ways, her 
 desire to please, and her unselfishness. But 
 I love Agnes—she is so good and helpful, 
 she answers so slowly and calmly, she is 
 like a rock, and one may depend upon her 
 for the right word and the right deed. 
 . . . . They will all grow up into noble 
 women, but I think Agnes will be most 
 beloved. She will be just like dear Mrs. 
 Anna Maria Hall, my best friend next to 
 my mother and my father. May God keep 
 them all in His loving care. Amen.” 
 
 1828, September 19. My father told 
 me yesterday of a balloon ascension in 
 
 London in the morning, and how the 
 
 80 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 intrepid balloonist remained aloft for three 
 hours, being so long out of sight that the 
 people were frightened, and then he floated 
 down to the ground in fine condition. 
 Many think that balloons will become as 
 common as omnibuses, and will carry us 
 for miles, perhaps across to Paris or even 
 to America. My father said that the world 
 is only at the beginning of great discoveries 
 in science that will benefit mankind won¬ 
 derfully, and bring all the nations very 
 near to each other.” 
 
 “ 1828, October i. I do not know why 
 I made so many foolish mistakes when 
 playing the piano to-day. I love music 
 dearly, and if such blunders occur again, I 
 shall feel deeply mortified. It was a Spring 
 Song I was trying to play. I should have 
 thought of the flowers under the ground 
 waiting to blossom forth, of the streams in 
 
 the woods beginning to be free from ice, 
 6 81 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 of the tall trees ready to put forth their 
 tiny buds. The song should have a joyous 
 melody, and I gave it a gloomy tone, as 
 though spring days were full of sadness. 
 My mother always insists upon my feeling 
 what the music is to express. She says 
 that only in this way can a pianist sympa¬ 
 thize with the theme and the composer; 
 otherwise a player is wooden and mechani¬ 
 cal. I wonder if I shall ever be able to 
 write music of my own. What rapture! 
 That would be a greater triumph than writ¬ 
 ing poetry.’’ 
 
 “ 1828, October 7. My father praised 
 me to-day for knowing my Hebrew lesson 
 well. It is nice to receive praise, but no 
 Jewish child should expect praise for know¬ 
 ing the Hebrew language. It is our lan¬ 
 guage as a people. To read the language 
 of our Psalmist and Prophets is a privilege. 
 
 At the colleges they teach the great Latin 
 
 82 
 
LEAVES FROM A DIARY 
 
 and Greek writers, but if these were lost, 
 all would not be lost. If our Sacred Writ¬ 
 ings vanish, the world could not recover 
 from such a calamity. When we study 
 Hebrew, we do our share to preserve Holy 
 Writ. What a glorious thought, to repeat 
 the words of a Moses, a David, a Micah, 
 an Isaiah! My father said that their writ¬ 
 ings live, because they wrote, not for their 
 time alone, but for all time. If any other 
 people had such a language and such a 
 heritage, how we should envy them I . . . . 
 It is not a difficult study. By learning the 
 meaning of a few words daily, in a short 
 time we may know a great many words, 
 and so read easily without the use of a dic¬ 
 tionary, which is so very tedious to the 
 beginner. Any girl of ordinary mind can 
 readily master the grammar, if she has as 
 good a teacher as my father. He was most 
 amusing yesterday, when he said that the 
 
 letters of the Hebrew alphabet all have 
 
 83 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 some meaning. For instance, aleph means 
 an ox; bet, a house; gimmel, a camel; dalet, 
 a door, and so on. I wonder if Mrs. Hall 
 knows any Hebrew. She is Irish, and they 
 can speak, so I have heard, every language, 
 ^hey are a very talkative people.” 
 
VII 
 
 A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 The Aguilars were accustomed to walk 
 out with their daughter on a Saturday 
 afternoon and visit a neighbor before even¬ 
 ing. But it was raining so heavily on the 
 Saturday we are speaking of, a week or two 
 after Grace’s membrable day in London, 
 that they found home the best place in such 
 unpleasant weather. Grace and her par¬ 
 ents had the knack of knowing how to 
 amuse themselves. Having active minds, 
 they were never at a loss how to pass 
 the time. Nor did they seek outside enter¬ 
 tainment when it was supplied from within 
 in such rich measure. 
 
 Is that idea a little hard for you to under¬ 
 stand ? Remember that there are two 
 fairies in this world of ours. One is called 
 Without, the other Within. The former 
 
 85 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Is a great help to us, for it controls all the 
 Influences that come to us from the weather, 
 the sunshine, pleasant visitors, and many 
 other agencies. The latter Is something 
 Invisible, something that cannot be seen. It 
 dwells within us. In our minds and hearts 
 and feelings and sympathies. When these 
 are educated aright, and we are taught to 
 be helpful and active, we do not want 
 Fairy Without to entertain us, for we have 
 Fairy Within for that very purpose. When 
 It rains and storms, and no one calls, and 
 the house seems dreary. Fairy Within 
 quietly touches our mind and heart with 
 her magic wand, and so happy and con¬ 
 tented are we that we do not care about the 
 weather. We can always have sunshine, 
 If only we answer the fairy’s wondrous call. 
 
 In other words, Grace and her parents 
 had resources within themselves, which 
 occupied them cheerfully even on stormy 
 
 mornings and evenings, and on this Sabbath 
 
 86 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 they were not discontented or disappointed 
 because a walk was impossible. After the 
 cheerful midday meal they sat together on 
 the sofa watching the heavy rain, and 
 listening to the frequent thunder claps. 
 
 “ Do you know, Grace,” Mr. Aguilar 
 said, after a vivid flash of lightning, “ that 
 you were a little coward in your early child¬ 
 hood, and always cried at a flash of light- 
 ning.f* 
 
 “ Was I, father? ” Grace returned smil¬ 
 ingly. “ It was very foolish, was it not? ” 
 
 “ One day I determined to cure you of 
 your fear. There was just such a storm as 
 this. We were staying at Hastings, that 
 charming resort by the sea, and there was a 
 pretty garden back of the house. You were 
 very much alarmed, and I felt rather morti- 
 fled, for I could not quiet you. As soon as 
 I noticed that the clouds were breaking, and 
 the rain was gradually diminishing, I took 
 you cut in the open air, although there 
 
 87 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 were still lightning flashes now and then. 
 We strolled up and down the walk, your 
 tiny hand in mine. The air was sweet 
 after the storm, the flowers looked as if 
 they had enjoyed their shower bath, in the 
 distance the blue of the sky was slowly 
 widening. And then I told you how the 
 storm benefits air and soil, flowers and fruit. 
 And you said, ‘ Faver, I sail not be lightened 
 any more.’ ” 
 
 Grace could not help laughing at Mr. 
 Aguilar’s attempt to mimic her voice, while 
 she added quickly, “ Father, I remember 
 now that you seemed like a big giant as I 
 walked by your side, and your hand as 
 large as a—as a dinner plate.” 
 
 “ And yours,” her mother chimed in, 
 “ was as small as—as small as the hand 
 of the tiniest Queen Titania that ever ruled 
 the fairies.” 
 
 “ Talking about fairies,” her father 
 
 said, “ what do you say to a story which is 
 
 88 
 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 like a fairy story and yet not wholly a fairy 
 story? ” 
 
 “ The very thing, father ”—there came 
 a kiss and a hug—“ the very thing and the 
 very time for it,” and Grace smoothed her 
 dress, sat back on the sofa, and eagerly 
 awaited the story. She did not have long 
 to wait. 
 
 The King and Queen of Wisdomland 
 
 It was a warm day in Jerusalem. Solo¬ 
 mon the king had just returned from his 
 morning’s hurried flight on his magic carpet 
 through the air to the mountain, to enjoy 
 a cool breeze that would refresh him for 
 the day. He was resting on his divan 
 before the open window in his palace, while 
 five slaves fanned away the flies, and made 
 the atmosphere less stifling. In the garden 
 that stretched In front, not a leaf seemed to 
 stir. A haze covered the city in the dis¬ 
 tance. All was still. Solomon tried to 
 
 89 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 sleep, but whenever his eyelids were about 
 to close, the birds on a tall oak, a few feet 
 from the palace, began an incessant chatter, 
 and aroused him. Again and again he tried 
 to sleep, but to no purpose. Suddenly he 
 sprang from the window and listened. 
 Now, he knew the language of all the 
 birds, being wise above all men. He 
 thought he was acquainted with the customs 
 of all countries, their kings and queens and 
 laws and people. But here was a mere 
 bird, the hoopoe, with its long pointed bill, 
 talking to a chance acquaintance about a 
 nation of which he, the great Solomon, was 
 totally ignorant. So, without further cere¬ 
 mony, he called the bird to the window, 
 touching at the same time a seal ring that 
 had the power of compelling all things to 
 do his bidding. 
 
 “ Tell me,” he exclaimed to the trem¬ 
 bling bird, which was dreadfully alarmed at 
 
 being spoken to without an introduction, 
 
 90 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 “ tell me, what land were you talking 
 about?” 
 
 “ It was Sh- Sh- Sheba, your Majesty,” 
 the hoopoe replied, greatly agitated. 
 
 “ Ah, Sheba! And, pray, what kind of a 
 land is it? ” 
 
 “ O your Majesty, the very dust of its 
 soil is more precious than gold, and the dust 
 of its streets is like the purest silver.” 
 
 “ A fine land, indeed. Anything else to 
 say about it? ” 
 
 “ Yes, your Majesty,” came the answer, 
 in less nervous tones, for the bird was grow¬ 
 ing accustomed to Solomon’s voice and man¬ 
 ner. The trees there are as old as creation, 
 and the brooks and rivers flowed from the 
 Garden of Eden, which supplied also the 
 wreaths and garlands that adorn the peo¬ 
 ple.” 
 
 “ What is its king’s name? Is he a man 
 of might? ” 
 
 “ There is no king, your Majesty, but a 
 
 91 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 queen, as fair as the morning dawn, as wise 
 as an owl of a thousand years, and as good 
 as a full saucer of milk on a warm day.’’ 
 
 Solomon touched his seal ring, and a 
 black slave appeared, so tall and threaten¬ 
 ing that the bird was filled with terror at 
 the sight. 
 
 “ A saucer of milk at once for the bird,” 
 the king exclaimed. The slave vanished, 
 and in a second returned with the milk, 
 which the hoopoe enjoyed greatly. 
 
 “ Come, my fine fellow, now that you 
 are refreshed I wish you to return to Sheba 
 and give a letter to its fair queen.” The 
 bird bowed in meek submission, and soon it 
 carried Solomon’s letter under Its wing. 
 The note was written on the thinnest and 
 smoothest skin, with the brightest and 
 clearest ink, and perfumed by the most 
 fragrant essence of rose. It was as light as 
 a feather of the tiniest bird, and enclosed in 
 
 the softest swansdown, so that It was no 
 
 92 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 burden for the hoopoe to carry. Now, 
 In this letter, which seemed so fair and 
 fragrant, Solomon commanded the queen 
 to appear before him. “ If thou comest 
 not,” he added, “ I shall arouse the hosts 
 of the air and the land, the caves and the 
 hidden places beneath the sea, all the spirits 
 of day and of night that obey me, and they 
 shall advance against thee and thy country 
 In swift cohorts. If thou art really wise, 
 come, come! ” 
 
 Great was the terror of the queen when, 
 one bright day, the hoopoe appeared before 
 her palace, and gave her a mysterious let¬ 
 ter. Although the sun was shining, the 
 day grew dark to her, and a heavy load 
 weighed upon her spirits. In her dismay, 
 she turned to her sages, the wise men who 
 made the laws of the land, and the princes 
 who ruled her army, and she implored 
 them to give her counsel. But they were of 
 
 no avail. They had never heard of Solo- 
 
 93 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 mon. Yet he must be a mighty king, so 
 her thoughts ran, to know how to speak to 
 the hoopoe I So she resolved to visit him. 
 But first she despatched ships filled with 
 precious jewels, costly raiment, the finest 
 embroideries and silks, of wonderful color 
 and quality. Besides, she sent Solomon 
 six thousand boys and girls, clad in purple, 
 all of the same age to the very minute, and 
 of the same height and appearance. And 
 in the letter forwarded with the gifts, she 
 stated that, although it was a seven years’ 
 journey from the capital of Sheba to the 
 city of Jerusalem, she would come in three 
 years. He could depend upon her visit. 
 
 At last she came. Great were the rejoi¬ 
 cings. The streets were crowded with peo¬ 
 ple eager to see her. After a sumptuous 
 reception and banquet, Solomon resolved to 
 test her skill, and he invited her to set 
 certain tasks before him. Thus it would 
 be proved who was the greater in wisdom- 
 
 land, the king or the queen. 
 
 94 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 “ Here are two wreaths,” she said, pla¬ 
 cing two wreaths on the table before him. 
 “Which is real, which artificial?” He 
 bade a slave open a window, and a bee 
 humming without entered, and settled upon 
 the real flower, and Solomon won the vic¬ 
 tory. 
 
 A group of people were seen in a corner 
 of the hall, all dressed alike and all wearing 
 masks. “ Tell me,” the queen asked, 
 “ which are men and which women? ” He 
 commanded a slave to give each of them a 
 broom, and he ordered them to sweep. It 
 was an easy matter to discover from the 
 awkward manner of some that they were 
 the men. And again Solomon triumphed. 
 
 “ A riddle I shall next ask you to solve,” 
 the queen exclaimed. “ What cries in a 
 heavy windstorm and bends Its head low, 
 suffocates the criminal and clothes the 
 wealthy, is destruction to the fish and pleas¬ 
 ure to the bird? ” Quick as a flash came 
 
 Solomon’s answer: “ Flax.” 
 
 95 
 
THE young champion 
 
 “ One more riddle, your Majesty. 
 What is that which comes like dust from 
 the earth, whose food is dust, which is 
 poured out like water, and which illumi¬ 
 nates the house? ” In an instant Solomon 
 had solved it by the'answer: “ Naphtha.” 
 
 “ Enough, enough,” replied the queen 
 astonished at his ready and correct replies. 
 “ I did not believe what I heard of thee, 
 until I came and saw with my own eyes. 
 Great is Solomon of Israel! Happy must 
 be thy people! ” 
 
 The story was over. The rain had 
 ceased. 
 
 “ Did you enjoy It, my daughter? ” Mr. 
 Aguilar asked. 
 
 “Well, it was very, very delightful, 
 father, but that hoopoe was altogether too 
 knowing a bird to ask for a saucer of milk 
 the way he did.” 
 
 90 
 
A RAINY AFTERNOON 
 
 “ Come, let us go out for a little walk 
 anyway, Sarah. Grace need not come unless 
 she wants to.” 
 
 “ Of course I want to 1 ” And the three 
 were soon enjoying the cool air of early 
 evening. 
 
 7 
 
 97 
 
VIII 
 
 IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 On a bright, warm Wednesday after¬ 
 noon in late October, on a school holiday, 
 three girls made their way to the Aguilars, 
 and with sundry endearments, in which 
 they were experts, took Grace, who was 
 unresisting, for an afternoon all by them¬ 
 selves. Mrs. Aguilar was glad to excuse 
 her daughter from her tasks for the day. 
 The child needed fresh air, and the few 
 hours’ change would benefit her. 
 
 “ Where will you go, girls? ” she asked. 
 “ Will it be the orchard? ” 
 
 “ That is a secret, mother of Grace,” 
 Agnes replied in a rather lofty tone. 
 
 “A secret, Agnes! A secret! Good¬ 
 ness, how mysterious you are! Do you 
 wish to arouse my curiosity? ” 
 
 The girls all laughed, while Grace, lin¬ 
 gering for a moment to give her mother an 
 
 98 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 extra kiss, whispered, “ Of course It Is the 
 orchard, mother dear. Do you not know 
 that It Is our regular meeting-room and 
 house of parliament? ” 
 
 Could there have been a better spot for 
 a secret meeting-place than the orchard In 
 Sylvia’s home, a large farm at a little dis¬ 
 tance from the Aguilar dwelling? It was 
 removed many feet from the main building, 
 and surrounded on three sides by trees that 
 grew so tall and with such widespread 
 branches that they shut out the outside 
 world. Here the girls, with all the vigor 
 at their command, had levelled the ground, 
 cleared away the fallen leaves and twigs, 
 set up a small bench and table; and when¬ 
 ever the opportunity came and the weather 
 was favorable, they would assemble In 
 secret conclave, as If they were the most 
 Important body In the kingdom. 
 
 Secret? They thought It was secret, but 
 
 there were shrewd eavesdroppers, who llst- 
 
 99 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ened and wondered and smiled and listened 
 again. Secret? Why, the birds heard all 
 they had to say, and chirped and chattered 
 as merrily as the girls themselves. The trees 
 were moved In sympathy, as the happy 
 voices were borne to their swaying boughs. 
 The clouds knew about these gatherings, 
 and were so Interested that on more than 
 one occasion they held back the raindrops 
 until the conference was over. Secret, 
 indeed! As if such joyous, kind-hearted, 
 loving friends could wish to keep a secret 
 of their gay or their serious moods! 
 
 “Sylvia!” It was Maud who spoke, 
 while munching bread-cake, which had 
 been provided in lavish quantities by 
 Sylvia’s mother. “ Whenever I get under 
 these trees I feel hungry, and It is only two 
 hours since I had luncheon.” 
 
 “ Remarkable, indeed,” Agnes said, 
 adding, as she drank a glass of milk with 
 evident relish, “ and It always makes me 
 thirsty.” 
 
 100 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 “ And you, Grace,” Sylvia asked, “ how 
 does it affect you? ” 
 
 “ Well, I feel too happy to eat or drink.” 
 And Grace looked up at the sky. 
 
 “ Watch her, girls,” Maud exclaimed 
 admiringly, “ she is preparing to compose a 
 poem. But I’ll write one first. So here 
 goes: 
 
 Although not dressed in silk, 
 
 I love my glass of milk, 
 
 And my cheeks are rosy red, 
 
 Because I eat cakebread. 
 
 Do excuse my use of the word cake- 
 bread. It is poetic license for bread-cake. 
 Still I might just as well have written: 
 
 And I always am awake 
 Whene’er I see bread-cake. 
 
 Now, there! What do you think of my 
 original poetry. Miss Aguilar? ” 
 
 “ Now, for my part,” so ran Sylvia’s 
 calm utterance, “ I do not see much sense 
 
 in poetry. Of course ”—^with a deep bow 
 
 101 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 to Grace—“ I do not wish to throw any 
 discredit on your verse, or even on 
 Maud’s.” 
 
 “ Very flattering, Sylvia,” Maud re¬ 
 joined, “ to class me among the budding 
 songsters. The honor Is overwhelming.” 
 
 “ Why, girls,” Grace remarked, “ I do 
 not write poetry very often, I assure you; 
 only now and then, when I am In the mood.” 
 
 “ Do tell us, Grace, about the mood,” 
 mischievous Maud asked. “ Do tell us. 
 Is it the subjunctive mood or the Indicative 
 mood or the tender mood? ” 
 
 “ I’ll tell you, girls. But I should not 
 notice such a tease as Maud. You have a 
 certain feeling that the blossom Is more 
 fragrant, the sky broader, and your parents* 
 love deeper than you ever knew before. 
 And then you are very, very quiet for a few 
 moments. Then the verses come. Now 
 do you understand? ” 
 
 “The verses come, Grace? Where do 
 
 they come from? ” Maud asked again. 
 
 102 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 “ I’ll explain, girls,” Sylvia volunteered. 
 “ It is just as when you make an omelet. 
 You stir up the white of an egg, and stir up 
 the yolk of an egg. Then you put in a lit¬ 
 tle salt and a little milk. Next you pour it 
 all into the pan, and there you are.” Sylvia 
 rather prided herself on her proficiency as a 
 cook, and on this occasion, it is to be 
 feared, it was as much to display her ability 
 in that line as to explain a poet’s moods that 
 she was so eager to speak. 
 
 “ Of course, Sylvia is right,” Agnes 
 observed. “ Our poet stirs up her ideas, 
 and puts them on the frying-pan of her 
 mood, don’t you see? And there you 
 are! ” 
 
 Loud was the outcry at these remarks, 
 which was only quieted by further attention 
 to the cake and the milk, in which Grace 
 now readily joined. When these had wholly 
 disappeared,—it did not take very many 
 
 minutes,—there was a solemn silence. 
 
 103 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “ Girls, let us be serious now.” It was 
 Agnes who spoke, and in her most queenly 
 way. “ Let us consider calmly, frankly, 
 and sincerely what is our aim in life, or, in 
 other words, what we wish to become. Do 
 you all understand the question?” 
 
 “ Certainly we do,” Sylvia responded. 
 “ And I can answer at once. I intend to 
 become a missionary.” 
 
 “ A missionary! ” Maud exclaimed with 
 a shudder. “ A missionary 1 Just think of 
 Sylvia’s going among the savages and try¬ 
 ing to make them civilized! Just think of 
 it!” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” Sylvia repeated. “ I Intend 
 to be a missionary, not among the savages 
 abroad, but among civilized people at 
 home; not in Africa, but in England. I 
 shall teach the art of cookery. The field is 
 large, my father says. We have ample 
 food in England, but very poor cooks. 
 Now, I am a born cook, and I expect to 
 
 104 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 utilize any ability I possess in that direction. 
 What aim could be higher? A good cook 
 will ensure appetizing food, and appetizing, 
 nicely prepared food means health for mind 
 and body. There you have something 
 practical and useful. Kitchen missionaries 
 are needed more and more. I shall be 
 one, and armed with, dust-cloth and frying- 
 pan bring about a new era at our meals. 
 Hurrah I ” 
 
 “ Hurrah for you! ” shouted Maud, 
 excitedly; then, growing calmer, she said: 
 “ Now, I am not so unselfish. My highest 
 aim is to be a lady, like the ladies we saw 
 on the stage last December. Do you not 
 remember, Agnes, how they swept majes¬ 
 tically across the boards, with long, daz¬ 
 zling trains and black patches on their 
 chins? They seemed to have nothing to do 
 but walk in and out, and always with new 
 dresses. I shall be a lady most assuredly. 
 
 To do nothing but promenade in a new 
 
 105 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 dress every blessed day, that is my ideal, 
 girls;^ 
 
 “ We were not to jest,” Grace interposed 
 frowningly, “ and, Maud, you know you 
 are jesting.” 
 
 “ My adorable little saint, I am really 
 and truly in earnest. My aim, as I stated, 
 is to be a well-dressed lady with a black 
 patch on her chin.” 
 
 “ O Maud, how absurdly you talk,” 
 cried Sylvia. “ She is incorrigible.” 
 
 “ And my highest aim,” said Agnes, 
 after apparently thinking a great deal, “ is 
 to follow my aunt Anna Maria all over the 
 globe and gather carefully the sheets of 
 paper she throws wildly on the floor as she 
 finishes each page. I would also mend 
 her pens, keep her ink-bottle full, arrange 
 her desk with due orderliness, and so help 
 her that she might write and write on for¬ 
 ever.” 
 
 “ Why, Agnes Cameron,” it was Maud’s 
 
 106 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 scornful utterance, “ that is absurd. You 
 are merely jesting, Miss.” She imitated 
 Grace’s voice and manner so cleverly that 
 a general outburst of laughter followed, 
 amid which Sylvia’s dog came running into 
 the charmed circle. He was called Nap. 
 His real name was Napoleon Bonaparte, 
 but he was such a small fox terrier that 
 a long name seemed to irritate him. Call 
 “Nap!” “Come, Nap!” “ Now jump, 
 Nap! ” and he was ready to fly for you. 
 But if you addressed him, “ Come, Napo¬ 
 leon Bonaparte! ” he would not advance an 
 inch or wag his tail in response. He was 
 evidently a dog of fixed purpose. 
 
 “It is your turn, Grace,” Sylvia cried, 
 clapping her hands. “ Come, tell us! ” 
 
 “ Shall I tell the truth, girls? Now, 
 please do not laugh at the confession. I 
 wish to become a writer, and in my writings 
 I want to teach as well as entertain. My 
 
 home has been so happy and my parents so 
 
 107 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 loving that I should like to write books that 
 would brighten other lives and make other 
 homes as happy. And—” 
 
 Grace hesitated for a moment. The 
 girls were struck by her earnest face, and 
 they listened attentively as she went on: 
 
 “ —and I have another aim in life. Do 
 you remember, Sylvia, in one of our sum¬ 
 mer strolls in the woods we saw a gypsy 
 woman, and you said that she was a witch 
 or a Jewess? ” 
 
 “ O Grace, I told you I was sorry, did 
 I not?” 
 
 “ Now, Sylvia, I want to prove that the 
 Jewess is no witch, and I desire that the 
 world honor her for all she has been. You, 
 Sylvia, a sweet English girl, and reared in 
 an intelligent Christian home, have not 
 entirely lost a certain feeling of prejudice, 
 due wholly to ignorance. And I would 
 write to destroy that ignorance. The 
 
 Jewess was the pioneer in all that makes 
 
 108 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 for home and religion. She was a princess 
 like Sarah, a leader like Deborah, a queen 
 like Esther, a noble daughter like Ruth, a 
 tender mother like Hannah. If to-day she 
 is hunted down in lands that claim to be 
 civilized, they who block her path toward 
 advancement are the witches. She is help¬ 
 less and innocent.” 
 
 Again Grace hesitated for a moment, 
 while the girls watched her, too fascinated 
 by her serious mood to interrupt. 
 
 “ I have another aim—to teach the 
 Christian and the Jew to respect each oth¬ 
 er’s creed and character. They revere the 
 same Book, are guided by the same Ten 
 Commandments, pray to the same Father 
 in Heaven, believe in an immortal life 
 beyond. I am telling you only what my 
 mother has taught me. Why, then, should 
 they be unfriendly to each other? They 
 should rather work together against those 
 
 who deride all religion, and have no other 
 
 109 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 thought than their own selfish enjoyment.” 
 
 “ Dearest Grace,” Agnes exclaimed im¬ 
 pulsively, rushing to her friend, “ I think 
 you have the best aim of all, and I am 
 sure you will succeed. But It Is almost dark, 
 and we must return. Look at that faith¬ 
 ful Nap trying to make Sylvia follow him,” 
 and soon the dog and his mistress were 
 running towards the house, while Agnes, 
 Maud, and Grace, arm In arm, were slowly 
 walking home. 
 
 That evening Sylvia told her mother 
 about Grace and her aim In life. 
 
 “ Mother, she Is the dearest, loveliest 
 girl In the whole world,” she exclaimed. 
 “ She Is not a Jewess at all, I declare.” 
 
 “ Why, my daughter, what an unjust 
 remark! Not a Jewess? The Agullars 
 and their ancestors were nobles and schol¬ 
 ars when your fathers were common 
 ploughmen and serfs. I am surprised to 
 
 hear such an idea from you.” 
 
 110 
 
IN THE ORCHARD 
 
 “ It is because I love her so much, 
 mother. Oh, why does she not go to our 
 church?” And Sylvia sighed. 
 
 “ Listen, daughter. You are not too 
 young to know. There are many churches, 
 but only one church. And I think the good, 
 the pure, the loving, belong all to one 
 church or synagogue, by whatever name 
 it may be called. And I am sure Grace’s 
 life and work will lead many worshippers 
 to God’s universal temple. Now, good 
 night, good night, Sylvia dear! ” 
 
 111 
 
IX 
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 The early November days were damp 
 and gloomy. The fog was continuous. 
 For two weeks the sun* was hardly visible. 
 In the great city a dark pall or cloud set¬ 
 tled upon all things. It was no little task to 
 cross the streets without being run over by 
 some vehicle, and to find one’s way even in 
 the day time was difficult. People carried 
 small lanterns to guide themselves and pre¬ 
 vent collisions with each other. Some held 
 glowing torches aloft at night. As a rule 
 few walked or drove in the evening, and at 
 day time only those obliged to earn their 
 daily bread. Many of the homes in the 
 residence district were lighted up day and 
 night, the friendly candles in the windows 
 serving as beacons in the mist and darkness. 
 
 It was not to be denied that the weather 
 
 told upon Grace, although she made a 
 
 112 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 brave fight against it, doing her daily tasks 
 with her usual regularity and cheerfulness. 
 But her mother noticed her growing weak¬ 
 ness and constant cough; and without tell¬ 
 ing her daughter she summoned the family 
 physician, good old Doctor Van Ullem. 
 He came without delay, and his orders 
 were imperative. She must rest in bed for 
 some weeks to regain her strength, and 
 when the sunshine arrived in earnest, not 
 merely for an hour or two, she would be 
 well again. 
 
 Grace liked the old doctor and his quaint 
 ways. Although gruff and harsh to others, 
 he always had a twinkle in his eye for her, 
 and with her his voice grew tender and 
 gentle. She knew all about the history of his 
 family, which had fled from Spain to 
 escape the Inquisition. For a time they had 
 lived as Catholics, until they could sell their 
 property and secure means to hasten their 
 
 flight. They were then called Maranos, 
 8 113 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and in the eyes of the world had given up 
 their ancient faith. In reality, however, 
 they were warmer Jews than before, and in 
 secret practiced the rites and ceremonies 
 of their religion. Their prayers would 
 often mingle with their tears, as they be¬ 
 sought the Almighty for relief and freedom 
 from their heavy burdens. Then, one 
 night, they escaped in disguise to the coast, 
 and sailed for Amsterdam, where for 
 years they struggled with poverty. The 
 doctor’s father had settled in England, 
 where he was born, and gained wealth and 
 reputation in his chosen calling. 
 
 “ You must get to bed, Gracie,” those 
 were his words. “ Eat all you can. Sleep 
 all you can. You do not need any drugs. Do 
 not read or study. Just rest, and soon you 
 will be able to come to my office, and we 
 can have tea and toast, if you will permit 
 me to escort you to the tea-shop for lunch.” 
 
 Then began an illness whose seriousness 
 
 114 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Aguilar quickly realized. 
 Daily, sometimes twice daily, Doctor Van 
 Ullem called, neglecting other duties to 
 help and save Grace. What anxious days, 
 what nights of ceaseless watching! Kindly 
 neighbors were constant in their help. Mrs. 
 Hall came direct from a stay in Dublin, 
 and would leave only on condition that 
 Mrs. Aguilar wrote regularly of the 
 patient’s progress. Maud, Sylvia, and 
 Agnes were daily at the house, cheering the 
 parents by their presence and hopefulness. 
 But they could not see Grace—the utmost 
 quietness was essential. Her parents by day 
 and a nurse by night were alone her attend¬ 
 ants, except Doctor Van Ullem, who never 
 neglected his visit, often coming at mid¬ 
 night to be assured that she was holding 
 her own. 
 
 The crisis was rapidly approaching. One 
 night more would show if the shadow 
 
 would pass away which rested on that lov- 
 
 115 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ing household and the hearts of so many 
 friends. Doctor VanUllem came at mid¬ 
 night, and held Grace’s thin hand in his 
 heavy palm, now softly patting her fore¬ 
 head, now gently smoothing her straying 
 curls. The parents were close at her side. 
 From their daughter their gaze wandered 
 to the good physician, as if to gain comfort 
 from his reassuring glance. Not a sound 
 was heard but the labored breathing of the 
 watchers. Thus they sat for hours, until 
 the dawn, when, gathering more and more 
 strength, the sun burst impatiently through 
 the clouds and mist, giving promise of a 
 clear, bright morning. And as the dark¬ 
 ness gave way to light, the shadow lifted 
 from the household. “ She will live, dear 
 friends,” the doctor said, with a confident 
 air. “ She will live this time,” and his tears 
 of joy could not be restrained. 
 
 “ God bless you. Doctor Van Ullem, 
 God bless you!” the mother exclaimed. 
 
 “ You have saved my darling.” 
 
 116 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 “ Thank the Lord Almighty, Sarah 
 Aguilar,” the gruff man replied, half 
 ashamed of his emotion. “ But only a 
 miracle will save her the next time, unless 
 you get her away from this damp and fog, 
 and live in a healthier neighborhood. But 
 we can talk of that later. Now, don’t see 
 me to the door, good people. I know my 
 way. Good morning. I shall call at noon.” 
 And seizing his heavy cane, he was soon 
 tramping down the road. 
 
 And Grace did live. The radiance re¬ 
 turned to her eyes, some color to her cheeks, 
 more strength to her frame; but for a week 
 longer she remained in bed. Then came a 
 change. She was carried in procession by 
 the whole crowd, consisting of her parents, 
 the nurse, Maud, Sylvia, Agnes, and the 
 dog, who looked as if he was managing the 
 entire affair—carried as special guest of 
 honor into her mother’s bed, a huge four- 
 
 poster. This venerable piece of furniture 
 
 117 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 had been handed down from generation to 
 generation. It was so large and extensive 
 that It almost swallowed Its new occupant, 
 to the great amusement of all. 
 
 “ Now, girls,” Mrs. Aguilar said, after 
 they had kissed and hugged Grace In their 
 exuberance of joy, “ now, girls, you had 
 better go home. Let Grace rest a while. 
 Come after a few days, will you not? You 
 will then find her ever so much stronger.” 
 
 They left with tearful protestations 
 against Mrs. Aguilar’s ruling, assuring her, 
 however, that they would all come in a 
 few days and bring Nap along. At the 
 word, the dog scampered through the open 
 door, leading the girls a merry chase until 
 they had seen Sylvia to her home. 
 
 “ O Maud! ” Agnes exclaimed as they 
 resumed their walk—they were close neigh¬ 
 bors—“ I could hardly keep from crying, 
 to see Grace so thin and pale.” 
 
 “ Oh, she will soon become hearty and 
 
 118 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 strong. I tell you, Agnes, she needs nour¬ 
 ishing food. And I, Maud Graham, will 
 prepare for her an omelet that will rapidly 
 restore her to health. Do you know how 
 I prepare an omelet, Agnes? ” And Maud 
 glanced roguishly at her friend. “ I can 
 do it better than Sylvia.” 
 
 Maud Graham, if you say a single 
 word more about making an omelet. I’ll 
 never speak to you for a whole—” 
 
 “ —minute! ” gaily interrupted Maud, 
 and further remarks were checked by the 
 sight of her home, into which she disap¬ 
 peared, after waving repeated farewells to 
 Agnes. 
 
 Many times, indeed, did the girls call 
 upon Grace, and entertain her while resting 
 upon the big bed with its canopy, which 
 almost touched the ceiling. Often did the 
 parents recall the Psalmist’s word, “ Al¬ 
 though weeping endures through the night, 
 
 joy comes with the morning.” What a 
 
 119 
 
1 
 
 THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 load was lifted from their anxious hearts, 
 as daily they saw how Grace was improv¬ 
 ing, and how her interest increased in her 
 friends, and what they said and did. At 
 first she had been listless and indifferent. 
 
 One Saturday morning Agnes and Mrs. 
 Hall called, and were overjoyed to notice 
 how much better she was, as, fully dressed, 
 she sat on the bed. The day was sunny, 
 the air was as warm as in late summer, and 
 the skies were as clear. 
 
 “ Grace,” said Agnes, giving her a small 
 volume, “ here is a book which Thomas 
 Hood wrote not long ago. It Is called 
 ‘ Whims and Oddities.’ It will certainly 
 make you laugh. My aunt knows him. 
 Do you not, auntie? ” 
 
 “ Yes, Indeed, and you would never think 
 that he could write such funny poems, if 
 you saw his serious face.” 
 
 “ Here, Grace,” and Agnes opened the 
 book. “ Look how this poem begins: 
 
 120 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 Ben Battle was a soldier bold, 
 
 And used to war’s alarms; 
 
 But a cannon ball took off his legs, 
 So he laid down his arms.” 
 
 Grace smiled, and bade Agnes place the 
 book on the table. 
 
 “ I declare, Grace Aguilar,” Mrs. Hall 
 observed, “ you remind me of a very 
 famous Frenchwoman, who used to have 
 literary receptions in Paris, and received 
 her friends just as you do. She was 
 obliged by illness to keep her room, and an 
 elegant alcove was arranged in a large 
 apartment of the house, and there her 
 stately bed was placed, and her friends, 
 literary and political, thronged to see her. 
 She was the celebrated Madame de Ram- 
 bouillet, who flourished about two hundred 
 years ago, and founded the literary salon. 
 There were some clever women who visited 
 her, women like Mademoiselle de Scudery, 
 Madame de Sevigne, Madame de Lafay- 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ette, and a host of distinguished men, 
 authors, and statesmen of the day.” 
 
 “ Think of that, Grace,” Agnes added, 
 “ one of these days the world may talk of 
 Mademoiselle Aguilar’s salonJ* And she 
 made a profound curtsy. 
 
 Grace pressed her hand in appreciation 
 of her raillery, and soon Mrs. Hall and 
 Agnes left, both rejoiced at their friend’s 
 recovery. 
 
 It was the end of November, when one 
 morning Mr. Aguilar, taking Grace on his 
 knee—she was now better and did her 
 usual duties about the house and at her 
 books—said to her: 
 
 “ I have news for you, my pet, news that 
 will surprise you.” 
 
 “ O father, are you going away, and will 
 mother and I be left behind? ” 
 
 “ Yes, I am going away, but your mother 
 and yourself will go with me. What do 
 you say to that? ” 
 
 122 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 “ And where shall we stay this time? ” 
 she asked. She was used to frequent jour- 
 neyings with her parents. 
 
 “ Well, Grace, Doctor Van Ullem thinks 
 that you need an entire change of scene and 
 a more bracing climate. It will be good for 
 you and for me, too, for my cough has 
 begun to trouble me again. He recom¬ 
 mends that we go to Tavistock, in lovely 
 Devonshire, not so very distant from Lon¬ 
 don, and yet far enough to ensure the 
 change that you require to restore your 
 health. And I know that it will benefit me 
 greatly.” 
 
 So they went to Devonshire, to a pretty 
 home at Tavistock, surrounded by charm¬ 
 ing scenery, which filled Grace with delight. 
 And here her life continued as before, 
 although she missed her three girl friends 
 keenly. 
 
 “ Never mind, Grace,” Maud assured 
 
 her on parting, “ you will come to the old 
 
 123 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 / 
 
 farm again one of these days, and we shall 
 resume our secret gatherings.” 
 
 “ Yes, indeed,” chimed in Sylvia, “ and 
 I know that you will need me to give you 
 invaluable hints as to making an omelet.” 
 
 “ Do not worry, Grace. Aunt and I 
 have friends near Tavistock, and we are 
 fond of Devonshire cream, so we shall not 
 neglect you.” Agnes spoke comfortingly. 
 “ Bark and jump good-bye. Nap! ” shouted 
 Sylvia, at the final moment of leave-taking. 
 And Nap was so noisily obedient that his 
 evident gratification at his part in the cere¬ 
 mony prevented more sober thoughts and 
 the tears that might have been shed as the 
 Aguilars drove away to their new abode. 
 
 Mrs. Aguilar, duly aided by Grace, soon 
 had the new home in perfect order, so that 
 it had an attractive appearance when 
 Hanukkah came amid fast-falling snow. 
 There was deep gratitude in that affection¬ 
 ate household: the shadow had rolled 
 away for a time. 
 
 124 
 
X 
 
 A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 The early days of Hanukkah were 
 shrouded in snow, but the air was so pure 
 and bracing that neither Mr. Aguilar nor 
 Grace felt the slightest discomfort from 
 the weather. Each evening he had lighted 
 the lights and sung the old festival melody. 
 How it grew, the small line of lights, from 
 day to day, in the silver Menorah, which 
 had long been a family heirloom, and 
 might tell many a wondrous story, if it 
 could only speak, of its thrilling experiences 
 in Spain, In Portugal, in Italy during cen¬ 
 turies of bitterness. It had escaped the 
 sharp eyes of the Inquisition, it had been 
 hidden carefully from discovery, as the 
 weary exiles went from land to land and 
 across inhospitable seas. And now, pol¬ 
 ished and made young again, it shone with 
 
 125 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 a gracious splendor on that scene of family 
 peace and affection. Blessed, thrice blessed 
 our historic festival of light! What 
 warmth and happiness, what fervor and 
 devotion, it arouses in old and young! 
 
 They were gathered under the Menorah 
 one evening. The lights warmly beaming 
 lighted up the room. Their radiance was 
 sufficient, for no one wished to read. Mr. 
 Aguilar had told Grace that it was to be a 
 story evening, and how patiently she waited 
 for the tale to begin! 
 
 “ Grace, you know all about Hanukkah, 
 of course, for your mother and I have read 
 to you from time to time a full account 
 of the festival and its origin.” Mr. 
 Aguilar paused. 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly, father, I remember all about 
 the Maccabees, father and sons, and how 
 they defeated the Syrian tyrant, captured 
 the Temple from their enemies, and found 
 
 the little jar of oil that lasted the week of 
 
 126 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 dedication. I shall never forget the brave 
 deeds of Mattathias, and of Judas, his 
 son.” And Grace looked earnestly at her 
 father. 
 
 “ Yes, It was a brave deed to defeat the 
 tyrant Antlochus—a few men and youths 
 against a mighty kingdom. And many 
 tales of heroism and martyrdom have come 
 down to us from those distant days, tales 
 that are full of meaning for us even on 
 peaceful English soil. One of these I shall 
 tell you to-night, while the Hanukkah 
 lights beam so brightly. The story Is taken 
 from a work called the Apocrypha, a series 
 of writings that date from a period later 
 than when our Holy Scriptures finally 
 appeared In their present form. The word 
 Apocrypha Is of Greek origin, and It means 
 ‘ secret ’ or ‘ hidden.’ I shall tell you some 
 other time about the history of our Scrip¬ 
 tures, with their threefold division Into the 
 
 Law, or five books of Moses, the Prophets, 
 
 127 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and the Sacred Writings. Now for the 
 story. Of course, I shall not give you the 
 exact words of the original narrative.” 
 
 Here Mr. Aguilar paused. His wife 
 raised the window curtain for a moment. 
 The sky was now clear, the stars were like 
 watchfires in the heavens. Then she stirred 
 the fast-dying log flame on the hearth until 
 it blazed anew. And Grace was all atten¬ 
 tion as her father began. 
 
 A Jewish Mother of the Olden Times 
 
 Once there lived a Jewish mother—you 
 know her name—who was so grateful to 
 God for giving her a son that she vowed 
 he should become a servant at God’s altar, 
 and she brought him to the high priest to 
 have him properly taught. And now you 
 are to learn of another mother in Israel 
 who lived—so the story goes—many cen¬ 
 turies later, and who had the same name, 
 
 Hannah. But the later Hannah had seven 
 
 128 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 sons, whom she reared in loving obedience 
 to the law of God. 
 
 Now, while the Maccabees—^what a gal¬ 
 lant, sturdy line of heroes they were!— 
 were battling bravely for their homes and 
 their religion, and all Palestine was a scene 
 of war, this Jewish mother and her seven 
 sons were brought before the tyrant. With¬ 
 out pity he compelled them all to suffer the 
 severest torture, because they refused to 
 obey his orders and despise what God had 
 commanded them and their ancestors. 
 
 ‘‘ Why dost thou ask us? ” the eldest son 
 said amid dreadful torments. “ We are 
 ready to die rather than break the laws of 
 our fathers, which God commanded us to 
 obey.” And he died before his brethren 
 urging each other to die rather than submit 
 like cowards to the tyrant. 
 
 The second son refused to eat forbidden 
 food, though threatened with tortures simi¬ 
 lar to those he had witnessed. In the agony 
 
 129 
 
 9 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 of death he cried out, “ Thou like a fury 
 takest us out of this life, but God shall raise 
 us up who have died for His laws into life 
 everlasting.” 
 
 Of his own accord the third son stretched 
 forth his limbs for the torture, saying, 
 “ These I had from God, and for His law I 
 despise them, for from Him I expect to 
 receive them again.” 
 
 With similar bravery the fourth and 
 fifth sons suffered torment at the hands of 
 the tyrant’s soldiers. With their dying 
 breath they assured him that though he had 
 power over men, he had no lasting power 
 over Israel, and at the last God’s great 
 power would torment him and his success¬ 
 ors. In the same heroic spirit the sixth son 
 met a lingering death. 
 
 Six sons perished thus. The youngest- 
 born survived, and upon him, perhaps, the 
 mother’s love was centred most of all. 
 Yet she addressed him calmly at this 
 
 130 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 moment, urging him not to fear the tor¬ 
 mentor, but to die as worthily as his broth¬ 
 ers had met their death. While she was 
 speaking, the son said to the tyrant’s men: 
 “ For whom are you waiting? I will not 
 obey the king’s commands, but the Law 
 given to our fathers. Think not that thou, 
 the author of all this mischief against 
 Israel, shalt escape the hands of God. 
 Thou shalt receive just punishment for all 
 thy sins, and under torture thou thyself 
 shalt confess that our God alone is God.” 
 
 Enraged at his words, the king made 
 him suffer the severest torments of all, but 
 he died, with his last breath repeating 
 Israel’s watchword, the Shemang, “ Hear, 
 O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is 
 One! ” All those who stood around mar¬ 
 velled at his bravery. 
 
 And now it was Hannah’s turn, the 
 heroic mother of heroic sons. She had wit¬ 
 nessed her sons’ sufferings, but bore all with 
 
 131 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 firm courage. She had urged each of them 
 to endure torture rather than abandon the 
 faith of his fathers. With clear voice, to 
 inspire them with resolute endeavor, she 
 bade them be strong and full of hope in 
 God’s goodness and wisdom. Then she 
 submitted willingly to the tyrant’s cruel 
 orders, until death, kinder than he, eased 
 her sufferings. 
 
 One by one the Hanukkah lights had 
 vanished into darkness, and when Mr. 
 Aguilar ended his story, the only glow in 
 the room was from the hearth, which his 
 wife kept well supplied with flaming logs. 
 
 “ Well, Grace,” Mr. Aguilar exclaimed, 
 “ that was a rather short story, was it not? 
 But I wanted to have a little time for a chat 
 about Hanukkah, our Festival of Dedica¬ 
 tion. Now, have you any questions to ask, 
 my daughter? ” 
 
 Yes, father, about the bottle of oil. 
 
 132 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 How could so small a quantity last so many 
 days for the lamps in the Temple? ” 
 
 “ There are various explanations, my 
 child, as to the lighting of the lights, with¬ 
 out any reference to the bottle of oil. As 
 to that legend, it is, indeed, difficult to 
 account for the origin of such traditions. 
 In fact, when we try to explain them, our 
 explanation is less natural than the wonder¬ 
 ful incident related. Perhaps the oil was 
 so pure and fine that it lasted longer than a 
 coarser quality would have done. Then, 
 too, you must understand, it was not used 
 for all the lamps in the Temple, but only 
 for those in the Menorah, or sacred lamp.” 
 
 “ That seems a rather good explanation, 
 Emanuel,” Mrs. Aguilar observed. “ But 
 how about the traditional lights? Were 
 they always lighted within the house, as 
 we light them ? ” 
 
 “ We have a more wonderful religion 
 
 than we really imagine, and to my mind its 
 
 133 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 special quality is the courage it demands 
 from its followers, the resolute sense of 
 conviction it indicates.” 
 
 “What do you mean, father?” Grace 
 asked. “ I really do not understand you.” 
 
 “ You know, dear, how God commanded 
 our fathers in Egypt to sprinkle the blood 
 of a lamb on their door-posts. That was 
 to be a sign of their fearlessness as much 
 as anything else. By the act they made 
 known to their neighbors that they were 
 not afraid to be Israelites openly. And 
 nowadays the Mezuzzah on the portals of 
 our homes, and the open door at a certain 
 part of the Passover night household serv¬ 
 ice, are no less signs of courage and con¬ 
 viction. The Hanukkah lamps were not 
 originally to light up the house within, but 
 to illuminate It without, so that passers-by 
 should see and reflect that, where they are 
 burning, is a Jewish dwelling. You can 
 thus realize the lofty purpose of the Institu¬ 
 tion of the Hanukkah lights.” 
 
 134 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 “ O father,” Grace exclaimed, “ you do 
 make things so clear to me that I love to 
 have you explain matters.” 
 
 “ There is still another interesting fact 
 connected with the Hanukkah light,” he 
 continued after giving vigorous attention 
 to the fire on the hearth. “ It was held that 
 no work, not even reading, was to be done 
 by its glow. Hence, to pass away the even¬ 
 ings, a number of amusements were Intro¬ 
 duced, with riddles and games. A popular 
 toy was the tee-totum, or top, called by the 
 German Jews Trendel, which was spun 
 upon the table, and gave great delight to 
 the children.” 
 
 “ Oh, do tell me more about the Tren¬ 
 del.” 
 
 “ This toy was a die In the shape of a 
 revolving top, on whose four sides were 
 marked the Hebrew letters, gimmel, to 
 stand for ganz, or all; hay, for halb, that Is, 
 
 half; nun, for nichts, nothing, and shin, for 
 
 135 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 stell, put, which indicated the result of 
 each play of the top. The word Trendel 
 itself is derived from the German drehen, 
 to turn.” 
 
 “ Father, could you tell us about the 
 Hanukkah hymn? Is it so very old? ” 
 
 “I am glad you asked that question, 
 Grace. The hymn Maoz Zur goes back 
 probably five or six hundred years, and 
 its melody, which is that of an old German 
 folk song, is popular in all countries. Only 
 a few years ago one of Byron’s poems, ‘ On 
 Jordan’s Banks,’ was set to this tune by a 
 musician whom I knew, Isaac Nathan. 
 But, Grace, tell me, did you like the story 
 of Hannah? You have not asked about it 
 at all. Perhaps it was too serious for 
 you.” 
 
 “ Father,” she rejoined slowly, “ I wish 
 I could write about that mother and her 
 seven sons. I wish I could tell the world 
 
 some day about their heroism,” and, kiss- 
 
 136 
 
A HANUKKAH NIGHT 
 
 ing her parents, she went to her room. But 
 it was long before she could sleep. The 
 story of Hannah, told so thrillingly by her 
 father, stirred her imagination. What a 
 lesson, she thought, for the women of 
 Israel I What loyalty and devotion to the 
 Jewish faith I When she grew older, why 
 should she not write about Hannah, so that 
 her own people as well as those of a differ¬ 
 ent creed might be taught a needed lesson 
 In heroism? The entire scene was acted 
 anew In her vivid fancy—the dreadful 
 tyrant, the rough soldiers, the cruel instru¬ 
 ments of torture, the fearful mob, and the 
 gentle, uncomplaining martyrs themselves, 
 each In the death torture. 
 
 “ Why, Grace, not asleep yet? ” Mrs. 
 Aguilar said in surprise, when she entered 
 the room and found Grace with wide open 
 eyes. “ It was that exciting story, was It 
 not, my daughter? ” 
 
 “ Come, kiss me, mother, and I’ll go to 
 
 137 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 sleep, really and truly. But as to tliat story, 
 I shall tell it one of these days. Good 
 night, dear I ” 
 
 And so she did, not many years later. 
 It is one of the most stirring and eloquent 
 chapters she ever wrote. 
 
 138 
 
XI 
 
 A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 Dublin, January 7, 1829. 
 My dearest Grace :— 
 
 You can imagine that I have had little 
 time to myself in lovely Dublin since 
 Christmas, but I snatch the first moment 
 of leisure—or shall I call it distraction?— 
 to write to you. I was rejoiced to hear 
 from your good mother that you were 
 thoroughly well again in your pretty home. 
 I wonder if I shall ever get to Devon, to 
 make your parents lend you to me for a 
 few days in London, when I return to my 
 quarters in Tavistock Square, if not in 
 Tavistock, Devonshire. 
 
 I do love the Irish. Do you know that 
 English is spoken better in cultivated circles 
 
 here than in London? I am in earnest. It 
 
 139 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 is a common notion that your Irishman 
 swings his brogue like a shillelah, and is 
 fond of bringing in his colleen bairn and 
 potheen and other Hibernianisms. For 
 real, smooth, velvety English commend me 
 to an educated Irishman. And how about 
 Tom Moore? There’s a darling for you. 
 If you want to hear songs that are songs, 
 you must let me take you to Tom Moore, 
 with his “ Oft, in the Stilly Night.” 
 
 I hope you are not writing much. Just 
 take in all you can. Learn, observe, but do 
 not write for some years to come. Wait, 
 dear heart, until certain things happen to 
 me. There is a chance of my editing an 
 art magazine, and I shall always bear you 
 in mind, that is, when you are grown up, 
 my little girl. Keep up your Jewish studies. 
 You will surely come across fine material 
 for some thrilling tales. I should think 
 that you could find many a theme in the 
 
 dreadful fate of the Spanish exiles. And 
 
 140 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 you could write with so much feeling and 
 enthusiasm, being yourself, as your kind 
 father once told me, a descendant from 
 those unfortunate people. But it must be 
 thrilling. The public wants to be thrilled, 
 not taught. There is little demand in the 
 literary market for plain, everyday food. 
 Things must be highly seasoned to suit the 
 popular taste. 
 
 Am I writing too seriously for you? 
 Well, let me tell you something else. There 
 are two lovely children here, my husband’s 
 niece and nephew, whom you would declare 
 the dearest children in the world. They 
 love to watch me as I write, and as I throw 
 each page when finished on the floor, a 
 rather bad habit, they run to pick it up, as 
 if they were helping me greatly. That was 
 always Agnes’s task in her childhood days 
 —to keep my desk and papers in due order. 
 
 I quite forgot to tell you, for my pen is 
 
 as uncertain as a jaunting-car, that I met 
 
 141 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Mr. Montefiore before leaving London. 
 He inquired after you, and expressed the 
 hope that your parents would bring you to 
 see him and his wife before he starts on 
 his next journey to Jerusalem. He was 
 accompanied by David Salomon, who, it is 
 said, wants to enter Parliament. Just think, 
 only because they are of the Jewish faith 
 men like Montefiore and his friend cannot 
 become members of the House. I believe 
 that the walls of prejudice will ere long be 
 battered down. 
 
 I came across a pretty German poem the 
 other day, written by a new poet, Heine. 
 I wish I could have met him on his recent 
 brief visit to England. Here is a good 
 translation of the poem by a friend of mine, 
 but not so musical as the original: 
 
 Thou seemest like a flower, 
 
 So pure and fair and bright; 
 
 A melancholy yearning 
 
 Steals o’er me at thy sight. 
 
 142 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 Could I but lay in blessing 
 My hands upon thy hair, 
 
 Imploring God to keep thee 
 So bright and pure and fair! 
 
 And now, dearest child, I must close, or 
 double postage will have to be paid, no 
 trifling matter nowadays. It is costly 
 enough to write a letter. Mr. Hall prophe¬ 
 sies penny postage all over the kingdom 
 before the next century. Do answer 
 promptly, and tell me when I can bring 
 you to London. Agnes has just left here 
 for home. She will write to you. 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Anna Maria Hall. 
 
 London, January 6, 1829. 
 Dearest and Best Friend :— 
 
 You cannot tell, Gracie, how we miss 
 you. Even Nap is growing melancholy. 
 Maud has lost much of her humor; and 
 Agnes—why, I cannot understand her at 
 
 all. She mopes for hours. Fortunately 
 
 143 
 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 she spent the holiday week with her aunt, 
 Mrs. Hall, in Dublin, and that will 
 brighten her a bit. So we may look for 
 the old sensible Agnes on her return. 
 
 Now as to news. We formed a sewing 
 circle before the holidays. Just think of 
 that, Maud, Agnes, and I form the “ Clover 
 Leaf,” that is its name, and we sew for the 
 poor. My cousin Jack says that it is bad 
 enough to be poor, but to be obliged to 
 wear the garments we sew is a double 
 calamity. What horrid things cousins are— 
 sometimes! So far we have not completed 
 a single garment, but we have collected 
 plenty of material, and shall go to work at 
 our next weekly meeting, as soon as Agnes 
 returns. 
 
 Our first meeting was a great success. It 
 was a kind of business meeting. We do 
 not pay any dues, but our parents will sup¬ 
 ply us with goods, and we shall do the cut¬ 
 ting out and the sewing. Well, after talking 
 
 144 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 a good deal, and planning what kind of 
 garments we were to prepare, we adjourned 
 to the dining-room, and had a fine omelet, 
 which I made, and some delicious cake, 
 which my mother helped me make—that 
 is to say, she did the mixing and the baking, 
 and I watched the oven. Maud wanted to 
 help me with the omelet, but I would not 
 let her. Was I not right? Nap is so 
 handy in running after bits of thread that 
 we have elected him an associate member 
 of our circle. My cousin Jack pleaded 
 piteously to be made a member. I felt 
 sorry for him, for he had tears in his eyes 
 when we told him that it was impossible. 
 I think we may make him packer and 
 expressman, but as he cannot sew or em¬ 
 broider, he Is out of place at our meetings. 
 Do you not think so? 
 
 Well, that Is about all the news. The 
 girls say that my omelets are Improving in 
 
 color and lightness. Wish I could send you 
 
 145 
 
 lO 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 one by her Majesty’s post Good-bye. 
 Write at once to 
 
 Sylvia. 
 
 P. S.—Maud told me that my cousin 
 Jack was only pretending to be sorry, that 
 he could not join the Clover Leaf. He had 
 rubbed an onion on his hand, and that 
 caused the tears. Are they not wretches^— 
 those dreadful cousins? 
 
 London, January 9, 1829. 
 My dearest Grace :— 
 
 All the members of our club agreed to 
 write to you. We appointed Sylvia a com¬ 
 mittee of one to tell you all about the club. 
 So I have precious little to write. I think 
 Sylvia was very, very mean not to let me 
 help her make the omelet, and I am posi¬ 
 tively glad that her cousin Jack likes to 
 tease her. I think cousins are the best 
 things In the world, and I only wish I had 
 
 one. Sylvia’s cousin Jack said that he 
 
 146 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 would be a cousin to me, but how can that 
 be? He might as well say that he would 
 be my grandmother. 
 
 I received a number of pretty presents 
 for Christmas—a soft woolen shawl from 
 my mother, two books from my father, a 
 little satchel from my sister, a beautiful 
 mother-of-pearl penknife from Sylvia’s 
 cousin Jack, and many other things from 
 friends, such as ribbons, a box of candy, a 
 scrap book, and so on. 
 
 It must be lovely in Devonshire. Sylvia’s 
 cousin Jack said he went to boarding-school 
 there, but they gave him so much cream 
 that he had a dreadful fever, and so they 
 sent him home. Poor boy I I never heard 
 of cream causing a fever, but he assured 
 me that it was so. Sylvia said that he was 
 only jesting with me, and the real cause of 
 his being sent home was because he would 
 not study his lessons, and it had nothing to 
 do with Devonshire cream. And she added. 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 that, if I had known him as long as she 
 had, I should not believe a single word he 
 said. I think you would like Sylvia’s 
 cousin Jack. He is fond of poetry, and 
 when he repeats it, he rolls his eyes just 
 like an actor. He said that one of the best 
 actors in London taught him how to recite. 
 
 Now, Grace, do not forget to write soon 
 and tell me how you are getting along. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Maud. 
 
 P. S.—^We may elect you an honorary 
 member of our club at our next regular 
 meeting. Sylvia’s cousin Jack thinks that 
 our meetings are all irregular, because we 
 have no constitution, whatever that means. 
 
 London, January 12, 1829. 
 
 Arrah, Gracie, my darlint! I have just 
 returned from Dublin, where I had a per¬ 
 fectly delightful time with a lady whom 
 
 you know very well, mavourneen. Her 
 
 148 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 name is Anna Maria Hall, and she loves 
 you quite as much as she loves me. 
 
 And how is my Devonshire lass, and 
 does she pine for her friends of the magic 
 circle, now become the Clover Leaf? Does 
 she remember the beautiful times we had 
 together, and the plans we cherished, ach 
 hone, ach hone! 
 
 If I continue in this strain, dear friend, 
 you will think that I have become Irish 
 entirely. It is certainly a happy race, 
 despite the great poverty that is seen even 
 in Dublin with its palaces and churches, its 
 broad squares and parks, its shops and 
 warehouses. And how friendly the people, 
 always ready for a chat or a laugh, and now 
 and then a fight in the open roadway I 
 
 You would have enjoyed our jaunting- 
 car experiences. We went out—that is, 
 aunt and I—to a little town about six or 
 seven miles from Dublin. Every stone on 
 
 the way had a history, every heap of rocks 
 
 149 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 a story to tell. There was not a ditch that 
 had not been the scene of former glories. 
 There were ghosts In the elm yonder and 
 the lake opposite, and mysterious happen¬ 
 ings in each brokendown shanty that 
 crossed the path. At least Andy, the 
 driver, said so, and he ought to know. If 
 an owl screeched “God save us I” he 
 cried, crossing himself. If a blackbird 
 flew aloft, “ Lord have mercy! ” was his 
 exclamation. It ought to have been called 
 a jolting car, because many were the jolts 
 it gave us, and that night we found our 
 beds softer than swansdown, we poor 
 weary travellers, after the day’s jaunting 
 and jolting. 
 
 My aunt introduced me to a fine Irish 
 poet and writer, Samuel Lover. He read 
 us some of his stories, which are as rol¬ 
 licking as the wheels of our jaunting-car. 
 I wish you could have heard him sing one 
 
 of his own Irish songs. It is grand to be 
 
 150 
 
 # 
 
A BATCH OF LETTERS 
 
 a writer after all. One of his poems is on 
 “ How to Ask and Have.” A girl’s sweet¬ 
 heart said to her, “ Mary, it is time I 
 spoke to your mother.” “ No, no,” she 
 replied, “ she will never consent.” “ Well, 
 then, what if I speak to your father?” 
 “ No, no,” came the answer, “ he is cruel.” 
 The poem—he gave me a copy—closes 
 with these lines: 
 
 “Then how shall I get you, my jewel, 
 Sweet Mary ? ” says I. 
 
 “ If your father and mother’s so cruel, 
 Most surely I’ll die!” 
 
 “ Oh, never say die, dear,’’ says Mary, 
 
 “ A way now to save you I see. 
 Since my parents are both so contrary— 
 You’d better ask me/* 
 
 Now, I have certainly written a lively let¬ 
 ter, Gracie, my darlint, my acushla and 
 mavourneen and everything else. It is so 
 good to talk to you by post, but not so 
 good as to talk to you face to face, you 
 
 girl of girls and honorary member of the 
 
 151 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Clover Leaf I There, that should have 
 been a secret until the next regular meeting. 
 Good-bye, dearest Grace I Best love to 
 your parents, and do not forget to write 
 soon. 
 
 Everlastingly your friend, 
 
 Agnes. 
 
 162 
 
XII 
 
 DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 The Agullars found their home at Tavis¬ 
 tock so healthful and agreeable that they 
 looked forward to a long stay, and hoped 
 that their wanderings were over. The beau¬ 
 tiful scenery, attractive at all seasons of 
 the year, grew upon them more and more. 
 It is true, the winter was extremely severe, 
 but it was a dry kind of cold, which, being 
 continuous, acted as a bracing tonic. Both 
 Mr. Aguilar and Grace improved rapidly 
 in their new surroundings, gaining appre¬ 
 ciably in weight and color. How the wife 
 and mother rejoiced! 
 
 The weeks passed without any startling 
 incident. A quiet, regular life was theirs, 
 without much variety, and Grace became 
 accustomed to the absence of her three 
 friends, which at first was somewhat of a 
 
 trial for her. Little by little her parents 
 
 153 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 made changes in her studies, or added to 
 them, as they noticed how her mind was 
 steadily maturing. Music became a favor¬ 
 ite relaxation, and in embroidery she showed 
 much patience and skill. Her work was so 
 admirably arranged that it never became a 
 strain or hardship, while she enjoyed fre¬ 
 quent long walks in all kinds of weather, 
 chiefly with her father as companion. 
 
 Mr. Aguilar covered much ground in 
 his Saturday readings to his daughter. 
 Libraries, books, and magazines were few 
 compared with such opportunities decades 
 later. He had, however, a richly stored 
 mind, and his own private library, though 
 small, contained books of no little value. 
 He had now reached selections from the 
 works of Josephus, which did much to 
 awaken her interest in Jewish history in the 
 centuries after the close of the Biblical 
 period. He knew how to adapt or change 
 
 the author’s words when necessary, and 
 
 164 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 gave only some of the most striking narra¬ 
 tives from the writer who took so prominent 
 a part in the war against the Romans, and 
 who lived later among them in peace and 
 honor, calling himself Flavius after the 
 line of Emperors that had conquered 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 “ It is a strange circumstance, Grace,”— 
 Mr. Aguilar often talked to his daughter 
 as if she were years older—“ how Josephus 
 was enabled to become a champion of his 
 people even in his exile.” 
 
 “ How so, father? ” 
 
 “You might have thought it cowardly 
 on his part to surrender to the Romans and 
 live in safety and comfort among them, 
 when so many of his countrymen sought 
 death gladly rather than submit to their 
 rule. But Josephus was far-sighted. He 
 knew that Judea was too weak a nation to 
 resist Rome for any length of time; so, 
 
 after fighting bravely in its behalf and find- 
 
 155 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 ing all chances of success hopeless, he 
 became, partly owing to quarrels among 
 the Jewish leaders, a prisoner of his own 
 accord. Rejoiced at capturing so distin¬ 
 guished a man, the Romans treated him 
 kindly, and gave him every privilege in 
 Rome. 
 
 “ And now,” Mr. Aguilar continued, 
 “ comes the curious circumstance that, an 
 exile and a captive, Josephus was as great 
 a champion of Israel as when he led an 
 army against Rome. His works contain 
 more than history. They aided in teaching 
 the ancient world, nearly two thousand 
 years ago, what the Jewish religion really 
 was. Thus they are a sturdy defense, a 
 brilliant vindication of the Jew in an era 
 when he had no advocate in his weakness 
 and helplessness. The educated reader In 
 those days could not but gain a wholly dif¬ 
 ferent idea of our people as now their 
 wonderful laws, now their magnificent 
 
 156 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 courage, now the deeds and character of 
 their famous men and women, and now the 
 prominent part they played in spreading 
 knowledge of the One God, were revealed 
 in the historian’s entertaining and fascinat¬ 
 ing chapters. With all their faults, the 
 Romans must have had the virtue of toler¬ 
 ation In strong measure to permit such reso¬ 
 lute championship from a fallen foe. And 
 Josephus went so far as to show how a 
 queen and a king, powerful and honored, 
 could become Jewess and Jew.” 
 
 “ Please tell me about It, father. I did 
 not know such a thing was possible.” 
 
 “ It Is a fact, my daughter, that a queen, 
 eminent In her day, Helena of Adlabene, 
 and her son, a king of the same country, 
 Izates, both adopted the Jewish religion in 
 the first century of the common era, and 
 took great pleasure In observing Its rites 
 and customs. Let me read you a selection 
 
 from Josephus, which tells about this inci- 
 
 157 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 dent. Of course, I shall not follow him 
 word for word, but condense here and 
 there. It is from his * Antiquities ’: 
 
 “ ‘ Now, when Helena saw that all 
 things were favorable at home, she wished 
 to go to Jerusalem to worship and offer 
 thanksgiving in its famous temple. Her 
 son, the king, gladly consented to the jour¬ 
 ney, and he went with her part of the way, 
 and gave her a large amount of money. It 
 was very fortunate that she came, for a 
 severe famine was then raging in the land, 
 and many died from want of food. She 
 sent some of her servants to buy corn at 
 Alexandria, and also to secure a cargo of 
 dried figs at Cyprus. As soon as they 
 returned, she gave freely of the food to 
 the needy, while Izates, having been told of 
 the distress, forwarded generous sums of 
 money for the sufferers. In later years both 
 Helena and her son were buried near 
 Jerusalem.’ 
 
 168 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 “ I may add,” Mr. Aguilar continued, 
 “ many of their subjects fought under the 
 Jewish flag in the struggle against the 
 Romans.” 
 
 On another Sabbath he told Grace about 
 the siege of Jotapata, a rocky fortress 
 town, which, in the war with Rome, 
 long resisted the attacks of the army of 
 Vespasian, the Roman general, and which 
 Josephus himself defended at the head of a 
 handful of heroic men. The story forms 
 one of the most spirited episodes In his 
 work. And as her father told her in 
 simple words the incidents of the conflict, 
 often a hand-to-hand encounter, her eyes 
 flashed with pride at the recital of such 
 dauntless bravery displayed by mere towns¬ 
 people, not trained soldiers, against the 
 disciplined Roman forces! 
 
 Attack after attack met defeat, the Jews 
 vainly hoping for aid from the Parthlans, 
 
 the Romans’ bitterest foes, and being 
 
 159 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 weakened, too, by unfortunate dissensions 
 within their own ranks. Despairing at last 
 of capturing the place by similar assaults, 
 Vespasian erected one hundred and sixty 
 catapults, huge engines from which stones 
 and heavy weapons and darts and fire were 
 hurled Into the doomed town. But the des¬ 
 perate Jewish soldiers checked the Romans, 
 destroyed many of their deadly weapons of 
 attack, and raised the town wall, which 
 protected the defenders In a very ingenious 
 way. Hides of fresh-stripped oxen were 
 extended over hedge poles rammed Into 
 the walls, and these furnished good defense, 
 as the walls were raised to forty feet. 
 
 Grace followed these details attentively, 
 and her Interest was still further Increased 
 when she was told of the gradual working 
 forward of the Romans’ powerful batter¬ 
 ing ram, at whose first blow the wall quaked 
 amid the city’s lamentations. But Jose¬ 
 phus, quick to meet the danger, suspended 
 
 160 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 large bags filled with chaff, which weakened 
 the repeated blows of the battering ram. 
 Then one valiant soldier, Eleazer by name, 
 bravely mounted the wall and hurled a 
 heavy stone against the machine, breaking 
 its head. Jumping down, he seized the 
 head, and bore it to the wall, where he held 
 it aloft. The arrows whizzed around him, 
 and he was pierced by five of them, being 
 wholly without armor. On another day, 
 while the Romans were advancing in close 
 ranks, Josephus ordered hot oil to be 
 poured upon the enemy, who soon gave 
 way. 
 
 And did the place surrender at last? ” 
 Grace asked. 
 
 “ The Romans, with their sixty thousand 
 men against a few thousand defenders, had 
 spent forty-seven days on the siege,” her 
 father replied, “ and were puzzled at the 
 heroic defense. But the end came, and 
 
 through treachery. A deserter entered the 
 
 161 
 
 II 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Roman camp, and offered to lead the enemy 
 into the city at an hour when the defenders 
 were at rest. In a few minutes the foe was 
 in the centre of Jotapata, unheard and 
 unnoticed. Short and bloody was the con¬ 
 flict then. The Romans spared only the 
 women and children, and the town was 
 razed to the ground.” Mr. Aguilar ceased. 
 
 “ It was too bad, father, that there 
 should have been a deserter in Israel. What 
 a dreadful thing to act the traitor! Other¬ 
 wise the town might have been saved.” 
 
 “ I fear not, my daughter. Think of the 
 conditions that faced the defenders. All 
 food and water supplies were cut off, and 
 the defense could not have held out much 
 longer against the fresh accessions to the 
 Roman camp. Besides, the Jews were not 
 united; they had their bitter quarrels. Ah, 
 if Israel had always stood together as a 
 people, with one aim and one ambition, its 
 history would be far more glorious. It has 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 always had two foes to contend with: the 
 foe from without, Babylon, Rome, Syria, 
 and the modern nations, and the foe from 
 within, the deserters in its own ranks, who 
 have done more harm, as Holy Writ says, 
 ^ Thy destroyers and those who lay thee 
 waste, shall come forth from thee.’ But 
 enough in this strain! In happy England 
 we have rest, and need not dwell too much 
 upon the ages of terror.” 
 
 There could have been no happier and 
 more successful method of inspiring Grace 
 with interest in history as well as of increas¬ 
 ing her love for Israel. From those days 
 dated her fondness for the study of his¬ 
 tory, and many a plan was developing 
 slowly but surely in her mind, which was 
 to be realized in the coming years. 
 
 No less valuable was the way in which 
 Mr. Aguilar strove to explain the meaning 
 and history of our traditional prayers, 
 which make the old prayer book a treasure 
 house of wisdom. 
 
 163 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 “ Now, understand, Grace, ours is a 
 prayer book not for one person or one 
 congregation or one country, but for the 
 whole community of Israel wherever scat¬ 
 tered, rich or poor, large or small. It 
 reflects their hopes and repeats their peti¬ 
 tions, and, to single out one quality of theirs. 
 It reveals their unfaltering trust In the 
 Almighty.” 
 
 “ ‘ Though He slay me, yet will I trust 
 in Him,’ ” Grace Interrupted. “ That Is 
 one of my dearest forget-me-nots of Scrip¬ 
 ture,” she added, unconscious of the part 
 which the verse would play In the history 
 of her life. 
 
 “ The trait of trustfulness,” said her 
 father, “ was wonderfully shown one day 
 In the early Middle Ages In France. I 
 think It was in a town called Blols, where 
 a number of our ancestors were put to 
 death by the Infuriated mob. Men, women, 
 
 and children were all led to the stake; and, 
 
 164 
 
DEVONSHIRE DAYS 
 
 as they moved along to the place of torture, 
 they did not piteously beg for mercy or 
 offer to give up their religion, but sturdily 
 and unfalteringly they repeated one of the 
 oldest and most beautiful petitions in the 
 prayer book, the Alenu prayer, wherein we 
 deem it our duty to praise God for the task 
 which He has enjoined upon us—to pro¬ 
 claim His unity and to hope for the dawn 
 of the day when the nations and the creeds 
 shall acknowledge Him in holy brother¬ 
 hood. Whenever I repeat that short and 
 simple prayer, Grace, the scene in France 
 is before my eyes. Those mothers and 
 fathers of ours not only said their prayers, 
 they felt them and lived them, and could 
 die with their prayers on their lips. It is 
 wonderful, wonderful, Grace.” 
 
 I think, father,” Grace remarked after 
 a brief pause, “ I think our trustfulness is 
 also shown in the last two verses of our 
 hymn Adon 01 am. They have always 
 
 165 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 seemed to me very beautiful, and I have 
 tried to put them into English. Here are 
 two lines: 
 
 I place my spirit in His mighty power 
 
 Both in my sleeping and my waking hour; 
 
 Body and spirit then are to Thee near. 
 
 With God so close to me, I shall not fear. 
 
 O father, father. If I only were older, 
 and could do what I long to do. But I am 
 young and helpless, and there Is so much 
 to be done,” and she went to the window 
 to regain her self-control. 
 
 “ Why, Grace, you should not allow 
 yourself to be so agitated and depressed. It 
 is all my fault anyway, telling you about 
 those old-time persecutions. Run along, 
 my daughter, run along, and make us a 
 cup of tea, and we can have a little tea and 
 cake all by ourselves. But you might ask 
 your mother to come to the party.” And 
 Grace, laughing now, hastened to do her 
 father’s bidding. 
 
 166 
 
XIII 
 
 A SURPRISE 
 
 June again! The country was full of 
 color and fragrance. Winter was abso¬ 
 lutely forgotten. The snow bird, which 
 used to arouse pity as it flew along the 
 frozen ground or nestled in the white trees, 
 was changed into the merriest lark that 
 ever sang amid the lofty skies. 
 
 Purim had gone, and it was after Pass- 
 over. The lessons of each festival had been 
 duly taught to Grace. There had not been 
 much Purim jollity, for the Aguilar house¬ 
 hold was small; but for Passover Doctor 
 Van Ullem had been a welcome guest, and 
 what an acquisition he was 1 How heartily 
 he joined in the old melodies, how delight¬ 
 fully he told stories, and how pleasantly 
 he chatted at odd moments with the 
 daughter of the house 1 Grace had faith¬ 
 fully helped her mother to arrange matters, 
 
 167 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and even prepared, all by herself, delicious 
 ‘‘ brick mortar,” the traditional Haroset. 
 And how happy she was when the doctor 
 told her it was the best he had ever tasted. 
 
 “ Do you know, sweetheart,” he said to 
 her, “ that yours are almost as good as the 
 cakes we used to have in Amsterdam ? And 
 they came from Paradise.” 
 
 “ From Paradise? Why, Doctor Van 
 Ullem, how ridiculous to say that! ” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, yes, my child. Paradise and 
 Holland are one and inseparable. Of 
 course, you have heard that Adam and Eve 
 spoke Dutch in the Garden of Eden. They 
 must have spoken some language, and it 
 was as much Dutch as French or English 
 anyway. And if they spoke Dutch ”—and 
 here the Doctor’s eyes twinkled a little 
 more than usual—“ they must have known 
 how to prepare Dutch cakes, or it would 
 not have been Paradise. And there you 
 
 168 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 “ How are those cakes made, Doctor? ” 
 Grace asked, so that she might prepare 
 some for one of his visits in the future. 
 
 “ Well, I think I remember. First you 
 take some honey, and then more honey, and 
 then some butter and sugar, and more 
 honey. Now add a little spice, the least 
 bit of ginger, and more honey, also a bit 
 of citron and more honey. That is all. 
 But your Haroset cakes are almost as good, 
 I assure you.” Then he began to discuss 
 with Mr. Aguilar some incident in the Hag- 
 gadah, or Passover narrative, read before 
 and after the evening meal. 
 
 Passover, too, had gone, leaving joyous 
 memories and grateful feelings. And now 
 appeared June, with its berries and roses, 
 its foliage and its blossoms, which made 
 Tavistock like a garden. Then came the 
 surprise, and what a surprise, on the second 
 of June! Would you know why? Because 
 it was Grace Aguilar’s thirteenth birthday. 
 
 169 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 A month earlier some earnest talks had 
 taken place between her father and mother, 
 when the approaching birthday had been 
 discussed. And out of these chats came the 
 surprise! And what a surprise I 
 
 The boy and girl world is full of odd 
 surprises, but none has ever been so com¬ 
 plete, so unexpected, so magnificent, and so 
 eminently satisfactory as what happened 
 an hour before midday on that second of 
 June. While Grace was out taking a walk 
 with her father, a carriage drove to the 
 Aguilar home, and out of it stepped forth, 
 in the brightest possible humor, the Clover 
 Leaf, with Nap almost crushed to death 
 by the countless hugs he had received on 
 the journey. That was a surprise indeed! 
 Then, without further delay, they all went 
 to work with vigor. A long table was 
 spread in the garden back of the house, in 
 a corner concealed from the roadway. 
 
 Floral wreaths, banners, and a mass of 
 
 170 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 articles that had been gathering for some 
 weeks came to light from different hiding- 
 places. Doctor Van Ullem had sent a big 
 package of Dutch cakes, made by a popular 
 London pastry-cook. Mrs. Hall had for¬ 
 warded a number of charming volumes. 
 There were boxes of candy arranged on the 
 table like building blocks, and an array of 
 gifts that would have done credit to a well- 
 equipped shop dealing in holiday and birth¬ 
 day presents.. 
 
 “ Can we go now? ” asked Sylvia, impa¬ 
 tiently, of Mrs. Aguilar. 
 
 “ Oh, Mrs. Aguilar,” Maud added im¬ 
 ploringly, “ we must begin before Grace 
 returns.” 
 
 “ Girls, in five minutes you may go to 
 work. Mr. Aguilar promised to be here at 
 half past twelve,” and she gave hurried 
 glances up and down the road. In five 
 minutes, Sylvia and Maud, with Nap, 
 
 rushed away. There was a scurrying of 
 
 171 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 feet, a smothered peal of laughter, several 
 loud barks followed by emphatic commands 
 to be quiet, and then a suspicious silence in 
 a certain inner roomj broken now and then 
 by a laugh and a bark that would not be 
 suppressed. 
 
 At precisely half past twelve Grace and 
 her father came slowly in sight. Agnes 
 could hardly restrain herself, but kept 
 behind Mrs. Aguilar on the porch, hoping 
 that she was invisible. 
 
 “ Well, Sarah,” Mr. Aguilar exclaimed,. 
 “ did we not return in time? ” He was 
 about to enter the house, when there was 
 a sudden exclamation, and Grace, detecting 
 somebody behind her mother, rushed into 
 that somebody’s arms. A pretty tight hug 
 followed, with rapturous kisses inter¬ 
 changed. 
 
 “ Dinner’s ready, dinner’s ready I ” Mr. 
 Aguilar exclaimed. “ Come, let us eat out 
 there in the garden. It will be so much 
 
 pleasanter this hot day.” 
 
 172 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 Agnes and Grace could not say a word. 
 They simply clung together. 
 
 “ Hurry, girls! ” It was Mr. Aguilar’s 
 voice again. “ Hurry, girls, or the dinner 
 will be spoilt. If you are late for a meal 
 on your birthday, Grace, you will be late 
 the whole year.” And he smiled at his 
 daughter. They reached the garden with¬ 
 out further delay, Agnes and Grace with 
 hands around each other’s waists. 
 
 “ O mother, mother, how good you all 
 are I ” and Grace embraced her parents 
 warmly, with a special kiss for Agnes, as 
 the gaily-decorated table came into view. 
 “If only Sylvia and Maud were here, 
 Agnes, would they not be glad at the 
 sight? ” 
 
 “ And they are here,” Maud exclaimed, 
 as she and Sylvia, carrying a large dish, 
 marched slowly to the head of the table. 
 “Behold, the birthday omelet! Sylvia 
 
 made it, but I broke the eggs.” 
 
 173 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 Grace gave Maud and Sylvia an enthu¬ 
 siastic welcome, and then all were ready 
 for the midday meal. Suddenly a faint 
 bark was heard. 
 
 “ Heavens! ” cried Maud, “ it is that 
 poor dog. I shut him up in the cupboard. 
 He was barking so loud! Poor Nap! ” 
 
 Grace quickly released him, and there 
 was a scene that baffles description, for 
 Nap simply would not leave her. After he 
 had exhausted his supply of barks and leaps 
 and jumps, he sat contentedly in her lap, 
 and went to sleep there. 
 
 That was a birthday meal! Search all 
 the histories of the world, read carefully 
 the biographies of celebrated men and 
 women, and you will not find a single 
 episode to approach It in the least degree. 
 Now, the food that composed the repast 
 was simple enough, apart from the Dutch 
 cakes, which were very elaborate; and the 
 
 beverages were few, tea, chocolate, and 
 
 174 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 milk. The diners, too, were not many, 
 merely half a dozen and a dog. But such 
 warmth, such rapture, such appetites! 
 Why, such a feast was never equalled in the 
 entire history of England, certainly not in 
 the recollection of the oldest inhabitant of 
 Devonshire, and in that section they live 
 to a fairly old age, owing to the air and the 
 cream. 
 
 And then the talk! Once there lived a 
 clever Greek author, who wrote a very 
 entertaining book on the meals of the 
 learned, and narrated the after-dinner con¬ 
 versation of some people who were poets, 
 philosophers, and statesmen in their day. 
 It must all have been very fine, no doubt, 
 but it could not begin to compare with the 
 Clover Leaf in full swing, to the accom¬ 
 paniment of Nap’s bark, when he awoke 
 from sleep while the Dutch cakes were 
 passed around. Maud, Sylvia, and Agnes 
 were not poets or philosophers—just three 
 
 175 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 happy and affectionate girls, not angels by 
 any means, but they were as good talkers 
 as any three young persons in the kingdom. 
 That they did full justice to themselves and 
 the occasion, can be readily imagined. 
 
 When the meal was over, all except Mr. 
 Aguilar and Nap helped to clear the table 
 and wash the dishes. The operation did 
 not take much time. A brief rest followed, 
 Mrs. Aguilar insisting that after the fatigue 
 and excitement of the day there should be a 
 pause. So the girls had a quiet hour in 
 Mrs. Aguilar’s room, really going to sleep, 
 until Nap, who had returned from a stroll 
 with Mr. Aguilar, to whom he had attached 
 himself as a special comrade, barked so 
 loud for his missing playmates that fur¬ 
 ther rest was impossible. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, the girls set out 
 for a long walk, to view the beauties of the 
 scenery. It was a joyous party that 
 
 tramped along the fragrant meadows or 
 
 176 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 penetrated the cool recesses of the woods, 
 now and then resting near a soft hedge, out 
 of which would run a frightened rabbit or 
 a squirrel. The flowers did not vary much 
 from those with which the visitors were 
 familiar, but they found the ferns of rare 
 attractiveness, particularly the smaller 
 varieties. They admired, too, the sweetly- 
 scented violets blossoming in the woods. 
 It had rained the previous day, and the 
 flowers were doubly fresh and fragrant. 
 
 With keen appetites all enjoyed the meal 
 that awaited them on their return. Then 
 the girls went to the library and music 
 room, where Mrs. Aguilar, who was a 
 skilful musician, played to their great enjoy¬ 
 ment. Agnes, too, showed no little pro¬ 
 ficiency. Her Irish melodies delighted her 
 audience by their novelty. Sylvia and 
 Maud could not play, but they were appre¬ 
 ciative listeners, much more so than Nap, 
 
 who disgraced himself by going to sleep 
 
 177 
 
 12 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 on the sofa, and snoring like a lord from 
 time to time. Evidently he had had too 
 much exertion and too many Dutch cakes. 
 As for Grace, she was so bewildered by 
 happiness—the great joy of being with her 
 former playmates—that she could only 
 gaze at them, and press their hands and 
 kiss them as the mood seized her. Then 
 she would play on the piano some plaintive 
 melody, which would be followed by a 
 lively Irish jig. 
 
 “ Girls, I never felt so happy in my 
 whole life,” she exclaimed as she stopped 
 the music suddenly and faced her friends. 
 
 Nor I,” “ Nor I,” “ Nor I,” came 
 from the Clover Leaf in rapid succession. 
 
 “ As you all are so fond of Irish jigs,” 
 Mr. Aguilar observed, “ I think I shall tell 
 the story of an Irish schoolmaster,” and he 
 began, partly in song and partly in recita¬ 
 tion, the diverting tale of a teacher, who 
 
 lived in Killarney, with a not particularly 
 
 178 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 bright set of pupils, whom he taught with 
 too much kindliness, despite an occasional 
 tap on the hand or fingers with a light 
 blackthorn rod. When he came to the 
 reading lesson, the fun developed. “ What 
 is the second letter of the alphabet? ” he 
 asked of Tom. “ I don’t know, sir,” was 
 the reply. “ Pray, what animal stings a 
 boy?” he asked sneeringly. “The wasp, 
 your Honor.” “ And what else? ” “ A cat’s 
 paw.” “And what else?” “The bee.” 
 “ And what is the third letter? ” he asked 
 of Celia—she had yellow hair, blue eyes, 
 and red cheeks. “ I don’t know, sir,” was 
 the bold reply. “ What does your aunt do 
 out of her eyes? ” “ She squints, your 
 
 Honor.” “ And what else, stupid? ” “ She 
 can see.” And the class applauds her for 
 her cleverness. The letters are thus re¬ 
 peated, until, at last, weary of their ignor¬ 
 ance, the schoolmaster opens the door and 
 
 bids them go home and leave him in peace, 
 
 179 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 and they rush out with a terrific tempest of 
 noise. 
 
 So the evening passed, and at an early 
 hour the members of the Clover Leaf went 
 to sleep. The Aguilar home, like English 
 country homes in general, had ample accom¬ 
 modation for visitors. 
 
 “ O Mrs. Aguilar,” said Agnes, quietly, 
 just as she was going upstairs to rest, “ I 
 am so rejoiced that Grace looks strong 
 again. What a change since last Decem¬ 
 ber ! Do you know that we were all anxious 
 about her recovery. My aunt did not 
 expect her to live.” 
 
 Dearest Agnes,” came the gentle reply, 
 “ I am grateful to the Almighty for His 
 many mercies. Good night, my darling. 
 Sleep well. You all have a long journey in 
 the morning. Good night! ” 
 
 The year In Grace Aguilar’s girlhood Is 
 
 over. Let us leave her now as she stands In 
 
 180 
 
A SURPRISE 
 
 the glow of her happy days, a sweet-voiced, 
 bright-eyed, resolute, helpful girl of thir¬ 
 teen. Already the light of a great idea is 
 beckoning her on. A brave purpose gives 
 her hope and strength. Will she live to 
 realize her ambition and become a cham¬ 
 pion of her faith and her people? What 
 will the years tell of Grace Aguilar? 
 
 181 
 
XIV 
 
 WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 Nine-tenths of the battle of life is the 
 preparation. The victory is won not so 
 much in our manhood or womanhood as in 
 the days of our childhood. If then we 
 plant aright, we reap a bountiful harvest. 
 That is the moulding time. All is plastic 
 then; that is, mind and heart are readily 
 taught, and can be shaped as the teacher 
 wills. It was in their school-days that 
 Napoleon and Wellington gained the tri¬ 
 umphs that fell to their share in mature age. 
 Youth was their training period. 
 
 So with Grace Aguilar. Her parents, 
 recognizing the ability of their child, and 
 resolving to mould her mind and heart 
 aright in early years, gave her just the 
 education she needed. There was nothing 
 forced or mechanical in her training. She 
 
 grew as naturally as rose buds and blos- 
 
 182 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 soms. She absorbed unconsciously the wise, 
 loving, helpful elements In her home, as the 
 plant drinks In light, warmth, moisture. 
 There was no magic In the treatment. 
 There was nothing strikingly novel or 
 original In the method. It went back to a 
 certain wise old lawgiver, who bade parents 
 teach their children diligently. If they would 
 have their children follow the right path 
 and live. 
 
 In other words, Mr. and Mrs. Aguilar 
 directed their daughter’s work and thought, 
 her alms and aspirations, with only one 
 purpose—that under God’s providence she 
 might prove the champion she desired to 
 become. That was their chief concern. 
 They spared no effort and no sacrifice to 
 promote her genuine growth. They felt 
 that she was not physically strong; hence 
 they took her from school and taught her 
 themselves. They knew that her mind 
 
 was bright and clear; hence they strove to 
 
 183 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 improve it still further by regular work and 
 study. They were convinced that she had 
 a warm and loving heart; so they made 
 their home a centre of wise and loving 
 influences. And as she was a Jewish child, 
 and they were Jewish parents, they resolved 
 that she should become intelligent, broad¬ 
 minded, devout in her girlhood, so that 
 her womanhood might display the same 
 qualities. It was but their duty to a 
 daughter, and doubly so to one of Grace’s 
 remarkable gifts. 
 
 What, then, was the harvest, what did 
 the years tell of Grace? Shortly before 
 her departure for Germany—it was on 
 June 16, 1847—she received a gift from a 
 few Jewish women, together with a brief 
 address, which read as follows: 
 
 Dear Sister :— 
 
 “ Our admiration of your talents, our 
 
 veneration for your character, our gratitude 
 
 184 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 for the eminent services your writings ren¬ 
 der our sex, our people, our faith—in which 
 the sacred cause of true religion is em¬ 
 bodied—all these motives combine to 
 induce us to intrude on your presence, in 
 order to give utterance to sentiments which 
 we are happy to feel, and delighted to 
 express. Until you arose, it has in mod¬ 
 ern times never been the case that a 
 woman in Israel should stand forth, the 
 public advocate of the faith of Israel; that 
 with the depth and purity which is the 
 treasure of woman, and the strength of 
 mind and extensive knowledge that form 
 the pride of man, she should call on her 
 own to cherish, on others to respect, the 
 truth as it is in Israel. You, Sister, have 
 done this, and more. You have taught us 
 to know and appreciate our own dignity; 
 to feel and to prove that no female char¬ 
 acter can be more pure than that of the 
 Jewish maiden, more pious than that of 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 the woman in Israel. You have vindicated 
 our social and spiritual equality in the 
 faith; you have, by your excellent example, 
 triumphantly refuted the aspersion, that the 
 Jewish religion leaves unmoved the heart 
 of the Jewish woman; while your writings 
 place within our reach those higher motives, 
 those holier consolations, which flow from 
 the spirituality of our religion, which urge 
 the soul to commune with its Maker, and 
 direct it to His grace and His mercy, as 
 the best guide and protector here and here¬ 
 after.” 
 
 Could any harvest be ampler and more 
 blessed? Could the years tell anything 
 nobler or more gratifying than such a 
 tribute to a woman of Israel? 
 
 Now, what was Grace Aguilar’s actual 
 work, her real achievement? She wrote 
 books with a purpose, and that purpose 
 was to champion Judaism and the Jew, our 
 
 faith and religion, our history and mission. 
 
 186 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 In addition, she wrote many stories of a 
 general character, which were well received, 
 and are still read in numerous editions, 
 despite the crowd of later authors. 
 
 Of her more general works, “ Home 
 Influence ” is perhaps the most popular; 
 its sequel, “ The Mother’s Recompense,” 
 is no less in merit. Both these books were 
 written about seventy-five years ago; hence 
 the style is at times a little diffuse and old- 
 fashioned; but both are readable and stimu¬ 
 lating. Then come “ The Days of Bruce,” 
 a stirring romance of Scottish history, and 
 “ Woman’s Friendship,” the one published 
 in 1851, the other in 1852, but both written 
 earlier. Her volume of poems, “ The 
 Magic Wreath,” appeared without her 
 name in 1835, in her nineteenth year. 
 
 Her distinctly Jewish writings were 
 many. First as to her stories. The best 
 and most popular is “ The Vale of Cedars,” 
 
 which was written before 1835. It is a 
 
 187 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 tale of Spain in the fifteenth century, and 
 gives a faithful picture of Jewish suffering 
 and martyrdom. Her “ Home Scenes and 
 Heart Studies ” and a number of other 
 short tales, like “ The Perez Family,” com¬ 
 plete her Jewish episodes. 
 
 But most remarkable In so young a 
 writer are her books in championship of 
 Israel, the most brilliant of which Is “ The 
 Spirit of Judaism.” This was first printed 
 In Philadelphia, owing to the kindly Inter¬ 
 est of Isaac Leeser, preacher, editor, and 
 writer of rare talent. Then must be men¬ 
 tioned “ The Women of Israel,” full-length 
 portraits of eminent Jewesses, based upon 
 the Scriptures and Josephus. This work 
 appeared In 1845, was followed by 
 “The Jewish Faith: Its Spiritual Con¬ 
 solation, Moral Guidance, and Immortal 
 Hope.” Some early essays were collected 
 (1851-52) In a volume of “Essays and 
 
 Miscellanies.” Her last work was a “ HIs- 
 
 188 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 tory of the Jews in England,” for 
 “ Chambers’ Miscellany.” Some of these 
 books were written under severe physical 
 strain and weakness, from which she never 
 wholly recovered, and which were respon¬ 
 sible for her early death at Frankfort-on- 
 the-Main, on September i6, 1847, in her 
 thirty-first year. 
 
 She had gone thither to regain her 
 strength and to see the elder of her broth¬ 
 ers, who was studying music, in which pro¬ 
 fession he was to attain some distinction. 
 The younger brother was at sea. He liked 
 a mariner’s life, and he became a rear- 
 admiral in the British navy. Lingering at 
 Frankfort for a few weeks, she went to 
 near-by baths, but obtained no respite from 
 her pain. Then she returned to the city 
 where Goethe was born, and where the 
 Rothschild house can still be seen. Now 
 began a period of great weakness. Her 
 
 chief desire was to spare her mother 
 
 189 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 anxiety. She had taught herself a kind of 
 alphabet with her fingers, and if she wished 
 to hear some favorite verse from the Bible 
 she would spell upon them the Psalm 
 desired. The last time her fingers moved 
 it was to spell the line always dear to her, 
 “ Though He slay me, yet will I trust in 
 Him.” 
 
 And out there in the quiet Jewish ceme¬ 
 tery in historic Frankfort she is buried, 
 near the wall of the Protestant burial- 
 ground. When first erected, the headstone 
 bore a butterfly and five stars, and beneath 
 were the words from the Book of Prov¬ 
 erbs, “ Give her of the fruit of her hands, 
 and let her own words praise her in the 
 gates.” 
 
 It was to this spot that Mrs. Hall made 
 a pilgrimage, and in her Art Journal she 
 has written her impressions. Grace had 
 earnestly asked her friend to visit her in 
 
 Frankfort, but that was impossible at the 
 
 190 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 time. After her death, however, she went 
 to the old city, and found it full of pictur¬ 
 esque sights, with its busy streets, its fine 
 monuments, and its Ghetto, which the 
 mother of the Rothschilds would not 
 abandon, although her sons had palaces 
 elsewhere. When they came to the old 
 house on the Yahrzeit, the anniversary of 
 their father’s death, they begged her to 
 leave the old-fashioned dwelling and reside 
 with one of them at Paris, Naples, London, 
 or Vienna. “ No, no, children,” she would 
 reply, “ do not try to persuade me. If I 
 left this old house, all the Mazzel ”—need 
 that word be translated?—“ would forsake 
 our family.” And there she stayed until the 
 end. 
 
 Of the Ghetto, which no longer exists in 
 its older sense in the free air of later 
 decades, Mrs. Hall writes at length. To 
 visit the quarter is like “ going back to the 
 
 fourteenth century and meeting the people 
 
 191 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 you read of in history far gone. Imagine 
 the narrowest possible streets through 
 which a carriage can drive, flanked on 
 either side by houses so high that the blue 
 sky above becomes an idea rather than a 
 reality; story after story, with windows of 
 ancient construction, small and narrow, 
 
 v 
 
 enclosed by iron gratings, from which fre¬ 
 quently depended portions of many-colored 
 draperies; garments for sale, which might 
 have been of the spoil of the Egyptian; 
 strong swords and all kinds of weapons, 
 rust-worn; bunches of keys, whose handles 
 would drive an antiquary distracted by 
 their elaborate workmanship; dresses of all 
 countries and all fashions, fez caps, and old 
 but costly turbans. The rich balconies of the 
 most exquisite design, however time-worn; 
 the jalousies, sometimes within, sometimes 
 without the windows; the Atlantes, support¬ 
 ing entablatures, lost none of their effect 
 
 from being half-draped by a scarlet mantle 
 
 192 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 or variegated scarf of Barbary. Numbers of 
 the houses were profusely ornamented at 
 intervals by ball-flowers in hollow mould¬ 
 ings and balustrades supporting carved 
 copings. Then above the doors, some of 
 which evidently led to an inner court or a 
 mysterious-looking passage, was inserted 
 the most exquisitely wrought iron-work, 
 sufficiently beautiful to form a model for a 
 Berlin bracelet; while from a stealthy pas¬ 
 sage peered forth the half-shrouded face 
 and illuminated eyes of dazzling brightness 
 of some ancient Jewess, whose long, lean, 
 yellow fingers grasped the strong but 
 exquisitely-moulded handle of the entrance. 
 
 “ The doors (except the very modern 
 ones) were all of great strength, frequently 
 studded with nails, and the bolts, now worn 
 and rusty, had withstood many a rude 
 assault. We passed beneath small oriel 
 windows, supported by richly-carved stone 
 
 brackets, grey and mouldering; and beside 
 
 193 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 bay windows of pure Gothic times; and 
 when we gazed up, up, up, story after 
 story, we saw what appeared to us more 
 than one Belvedere, doubtless erected by 
 some wealthy Jew as a place from whence 
 he could view the city it was forbidden 
 him to tread, or to enjoy pure air, which 
 certainly he could not do in the densely 
 close street beneath. Many of the brackets 
 supporting a solitary balcony were of 
 beautiful design, though the greater num¬ 
 ber were defaced and crumbling. We also 
 passed several of the fan-shaped windows, 
 so characteristic of the early German style, 
 and here and there a fantastic gargoyle; 
 from the mouth of one depended a bunch 
 of soiled but many-colored ribands. What 
 a vision it seems to us now, that wonderful 
 Jews’ quarter of the bright and busy city of 
 Frankfort! A vision of some far-off 
 Oriental Pompeii, repeopled in a dream! 
 Never did we look upon faces so keen and 
 
WHAT THE YEARS TOLD 
 
 withered, beards so black, or eyes so bright; 
 once we saw a curly-headed child, half- 
 naked in its swarthy beauty, throned, like 
 a baby king, upon a pile of yellow cushions; 
 and once again, as we drove slowly on, a 
 tall young girl turned up a face of scornful 
 beauty, as if she thought we pale-faced 
 Christians had no business there—and 
 those two young creatures were all we 
 clearly observed of youthful beauty within 
 the ‘ Quarter.’ ” 
 
 Then, after the visit to the Ghetto, she 
 drove leisurely to the Jewish cemetery. 
 From the entrance gate the view was beau¬ 
 tiful. Like a panorama the city was spread 
 out, the scene was illumined by the bright¬ 
 est sunshine. In the distance a girl was 
 seated beneath the branches of a spreading 
 tree, weaving garlands, which the visitors 
 bought to adorn the graves of departed 
 friends. The gates were open. She soon 
 
 found the grave, and accomplished the 
 
 195 
 
THE YOUNG CHAMPION 
 
 object of her pilgrimage. ‘‘ It was, though 
 in a foreign city, a pilgrimage to an English 
 shrine, for it was to the grave of an Eng¬ 
 lish woman, pure and good.” 
 
 A few years ago, a friend set out one day 
 from Frankfort to photograph the tomb. 
 When he reached the spot, he found the 
 Inscription to be too illegible for such 
 a purpose. Although the words can no 
 longer be read as of old, the name, the 
 character, the work of Grace Aguilar will 
 resist decay for ages, and they cannot be 
 blotted out by storm or rain, or time’s bit¬ 
 ing ravages. They are immortal, like the 
 faith of Israel, which from her early 
 girlhood she championed so resolutely and 
 unfalteringly. 
 
 196 
 
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