ersecuting us for
clinging to our dearly beloved religion, they now try, by acts of
kindness in times of sickness and poverty, to influence our people in
favour of accepting their religion.

"Indeed, I have heard some of our people say that they would rather go
to the Arabs for treatment than enter the Missionary Hospital! Therefore
those who cannot nurse the sick ones at home take them to the
Bikkur-Holim, which a doctor visits once every few days. A mother, wife,
or father goes with the patients to give them the necessary food and
medicine, for in the Bikkur-Cholem there are no trained nurses. The
relatives also keep the patients clean and tidy; but little cooking is
done there, as the food is generally brought cooked from the patients'
homes.

"I once went to visit the Bikkur-Cholem. One patient I saw had a jug of
cold water brought to her, and, though her own lips were very parched,
she would not take even one sip, but had the water given to those near
her, who, in a very high state of fever, were clamouring for water.
Other patients I saw were cheerfully and willingly sharing their food
with those who had none. Until I had visited that Bikkur-Cholem I had
never realized what real charity meant. For these sufferers, in their
love and thoughtfulness and genuine self-sacrifice towards
fellow-sufferers less fortunate than themselves, were obeying in spirit
as well as in the letter the time-honoured commandment given us 'to love
one's neighbour as oneself.'

"The arrangements in the Bikkur-Cholem are most insanitary;
disinfectants are unheard of; and I greatly pitied the poor unfortunates
that have to go there."

Mr. Jacob was too overcome by his feelings to continue--so for a few
minutes there was a deep silence. Then one of the listeners said: "One
is thankful to remember that this letter was written fifty years ago,
and conditions must have improved since our writer first went to
Palestine."

"Yes, thank God!" replied kind-hearted Mr Jacob; and then he continued
reading the letter.

"Most of the patients die; but a few get cured and leave. If they do, it
is certainly more through faith in God's love and mercy than through the
remedies they receive while there.

"Now, I want to tell you of a voluntary service which respectable,
well-to-do men and women, and even scholars, do, for the poor who die.
These kind folk are called 'the Chevra Kadisha.' No doubt because of the
heat, there is a strict law that no one