The father went up to his bedroom, and soon came down with a bundle of letters wrapped in a newspaper.  He started looking through them while all the family stood around him, watching as eagerly as if he were searching for an heirloom.

“I will choose a very short one,” said the father, “for it is on the subject I have spoken to Benjamin about; but if you like I will make it a rule every Friday evening, after our Sabbath meal, to read some of the letters to you.”

THE HOLY CITY

When all were quietly and comfortably seated, their father started reading: 

“My dear Cousin,—­After a great many adventures and suffering (which I will write to you about another time) we arrived safely in Jerusalem.  To me, it seemed rather dull after London, but both father and mother shed tears of joy when they at last arrived in the Holy City.  Some people met us a little way out, for father had written telling them we were coming.  We were almost royally received and heartily welcomed, for very few Jews come here with their young families.

“We must have looked a sight—­you in London could not imagine anything like our cavalcade!  First went Father riding on a mule, with Mother following on another mule.  Mother’s saddle was made with pillows, for it is impossible for a woman to ride for sixteen or eighteen hours without a soft, comfortable seat.

“You go up high hills, and then down again, imagining every time you go down that you will topple over and fall over the precipice and be killed.  In fact, your heart is in your mouth every five minutes, so that by the time you arrive in Jerusalem (which is surrounded by hills) you are almost too weak to rejoice at the beauty that greets your sight, for nowhere in the world can, I think, anything be seen more beautiful than a sunrise over the mountains around Jerusalem.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that we youngsters were put into baskets on a camel’s back, and how we were shaken!  I felt as if I were praying and shaking all the time, for it seemed as if we could never get to Jerusalem alive in this way.”

THE PROUD BOYS OF JERUSALEM

“At last we entered the Holy City, and arrived at Father’s friend’s house, where we were made very welcome and treated most kindly.  I soon made friends with the boys, for, you know, I can speak yiddish quite well.

“They are funny little chaps.  They look like old men, with long kaftans (coats) and side ear-locks of hair, carrying their prayer book or Bible to Shule.  The first thing I noticed was the tsitsith.  They wear really long ones, with long fringes hanging down about a quarter of a yard or more.  They wear them as we do a waistcoat, so that they can be seen by everyone, not as we wear them in England, tucked away out of sight.  Here young and old, even little boys who can only just walk and lisp their prayers,