They knew why they were called, for it was Friday afternoon. Every week at this time they went to the "Place of Wailing" with their parents to weep over the troubles of their people and to think of the old days of Jerusalem, before the Romans conquered the city. "Esther, your hair needs brushing. Solomon, make your hands and face as clean as possible," said their mother, as she looked at the children. She loved them very dearly. She was proud of them, too. Solomon was a bright, clever boy, quick in his studies, while Esther was really beautiful. Her glossy black hair hung in long curls down her back. Her black eyes were soft and loving. Her skin was of a pale olive tint, and her cheeks were often flushed a delicate pink. Her mother looked tenderly at her as she brushed the little girl's hair. "Mamma, grandma says I look ever so much as you did when you were my age," said Esther, as she trudged by her mother's side down the narrow street. "Yes, yes, my child, I have heard her say so. But never mind your looks or mine now. Think of where we are going." It was a hot walk. The sun was shining brightly. The street, the stone houses, everything around shone dusty gray in colour. There were no sidewalks. When a camel drew near with his load, or a horseman passed by, Esther had to walk close to the walls of the houses for fear the animals would rub against her. She was born in this old city of Jerusalem. She had never been far away from it, and knew little of the wide streets and broad sidewalks found in many other cities. She had sometimes heard her father and mother talk of their life in Spain. They came from that country before Esther and her brother were born. It was a long journey, but they had said, "We cannot be happy anywhere except in Jerusalem. That alone is the home of our people." Esther's father might have grown rich in Spain. He was a trader. He understood his business well. But in Jerusalem it was harder for him to get money. What a strange name for the place where the family were going this afternoon! But it well deserved to be called "The Place of Wailing." It was a dark, dreary court with stone walls on three sides of it. Many Jews were already there when Esther and her people arrived. [Illustration: "IT WAS A DARK, DREARY COURT WITH STONE WALLS ON THREE SIDES OF IT."] Some of them were seated on the ground. They were weeping bitterly and rocking their bodies to and fro. Others, with sad faces, were reading from the Hebrew Bible. Still others were kissing the wall and bumping it with their foreheads. Some parts of the rock had actually been worn smooth by the lips of those who had come here week after week and year after year. For they really believed it was a part of the old temple wall. Little Esther, with her glossy black curls, did just what she saw the others do. The tears began to fall from her eyes as she went close up to the wall and kissed the cold gray stone.