It cannot be far amiss to put into this paper a picturesque Sicilian woman who has grown old in years but is still a child in spirit. She loves a fairy story as much as she did sixty years ago, and listens with the same breathless credulity. One night about twilight as I sat on the front steps with her and several little Italian children, listening to her tales of the old home country, there came a silence in our little group. Suddenly Angel Licavoli asked, "Teacher, what is God like?" With a feeling that our friend of riper experience could give us more satisfaction, I repeated the question to her. Her sweet old face surrounded by the white curls was a study in simple faith as she assured us, "Maybe She is like the holy pictures." When I approach the subject of the Russian Jew, I do it with a great humbleness and fear lest I do not do it justice. So much have they had to overcome, and such tenacity and perseverance have they shown in overcoming it! Straight from the Pales of Kief, Ketchinoff, and Odessa they come to settle in the nearest to a pale we have to offer. Great has been their poverty; a long-standing terror with them, and along with it in many cases, persecution, starvation, and social ostracism. Poverty in all but spirit and mind. The great leveler to them is education, and it is no uncommon thing for the Jewish father to sacrifice himself in order to better his son, to take upon himself that greatest of sacrifices, daily grind and deprivation. Not only this generation, but the one before and the one before that. They cannot keep up such a white-hot search for learning without sooner or later finding out what is wisdom--real wisdom. Stripped of all but bare necessities, they come to possess a sense of value that is remarkably true. We come into contact then with the offspring of such conditions, simple and direct in manner and having a passionate impersonal curiosity. Always asking, searching for the real things, eager for that which will render them impervious to their sordid surroundings, they have thrown aside all superfluous mannerisms and get easily to the heart of things. Accustomed to the greatest repression, and exclusion from all schools and institutions of the sort, the free access to so many books is an endless joy to them. They browse among the shelves lovingly, and instinctively read the best we have to offer. Tales from the ancient Hebrews, history, travel --these are the books they take. But what they read most gladly is biography. It is just as difficult to find a life of Lincoln on the shelves as it is to find an Altsheler--and of comparisons is that not the strongest? Heroes of all sorts attract the Jewish child, heroes in battles, statesmen and leaders in adventure, conquest, business. If a hero is also a martyr, their delight knows no bounds.