-that his people must wait a
little longer for a real Messiah to lead them into the Land of
Promise. Bitterest of all, even more bitter than the breaking of his
dream, was the realization that Mordecai Noah, for all his lofty
ideals, his generous motives, was not of the stuff of which leaders
are made. His voice, no matter how eloquent, would never be heeded
should he again seek to call the wandering children of Israel
together. And thinking of these things, the boy wept like a little
child.

Years later, when the monument on Grand Island had fallen into decay,
Hushiel saw the cornerstone of the dream city, Ararat, displayed in
one of the rooms of the Buffalo Historical Society. He was no longer
a sensitive boy, yet the tears sprang to his eyes as he re-read the
old inscription which you may still read if you visit the Society's
rooms today: "_Shema Yisroel, Adonoi Elohenu, Adonoi Echod_ (Hear, O
Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One). Ararat, a City of Refuge
for the Jews, Founded by Mr. M. Noah in the month Tishri, 5586, Sept.,
1825, and in the 50th year of American Independence."

THREE AT GRACE

_The Story of the First Jewish Settler in Alabama._

Colonel Hawkins, the Indian agent for the government at Pole Cat
Springs, Alabama, in 1804, leaned across the pine table to extend a
cordial hand to his visitor. Abram Mordecai, who stood before him,
although almost fifty, gave one the impression of a much younger man.
Lean and lithe as a panther, with shaggy black hair and keen eyes, his
distinctly Jewish features were so tanned and weather-beaten that he
looked far more the Indian than the Jew. He nodded gayly to his
employer before he flung himself into a chair, his gun-stock between
his knees, his great brown hands clasped behind his head. As he sat
there dressed in the buckskin shirt and trousers of his half-civilized
Indian neighbors, every free movement of his large body suggesting his
life in the wilderness, the Jewish adventurer presented a perfect
picture of the pioneer of his day.

"I have come, Colonel Hawkins," he began in his usual abrupt manner,
"to ask your help in building a cotton gin. Yes," as the other showed
surprise, "I know the enterprise seems a strange one for a rover like
me to suggest, and, perhaps, a foolish undertaking in the wilderness.
Yet the wilderness must pass and we must build now for the days to
come."

"Go on, Mordecai," encouraged his chief. "What are your plans?"