h the eyes of a man who
sees visions he clasped the Torah to his breast and spoke: "When
Jerusalem was destroyed, Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai rebuilt a spiritual
Jerusalem in the little town of Jabneh where the faithful ones sat at
his feet and learned the Law. I will not leave our precious Torah
behind me to be used by those who remain here to serve King George
instead of the King of Israel. Some time, some place God will
establish a refuge for His faithful ones and there will we worship Him
as free men." He spoke with a great hope in his heart, although at
that moment he never dreamed how during the darkest days of the
Revolution he would be allowed to labor and serve in Philadelphia
until he should return to New York in triumph to witness the
inauguration of George Washington as president of the United States.

At a word from the minister, the _Shammas_ (sexton) and several
members of the congregation quietly removed the velvet curtains from
the Ark, taking the silver pointer, the _Ner Tamid_ (perpetual light),
all the sacred symbols which had made their worship beautiful for
Sabbath after Sabbath during the years of security and peace. The
congregation sat motionless, like people in a dream. Laying the Torah
aside, Mr. Seixas came forward, his hands raised in blessing. His
voice was tremulous with tears as he spoke: "_Yevorekhekha Adonai
we-yishm'rekha. Yaer Adonai panov eilekha wi'chunekha. Yisa Adonai
panov eilekha weyasem lekha shalom._" (The Lord bless thee and keep
thee. The Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto
thee. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace.)

Then, the Scroll again close to his heart, he passed among the silent
worshippers out into the warm September sunshine.

One by one the people followed him as he stood before the synagogue
where he had hoped to serve so many useful years. His face was grave,
but his voice was firm, his bearing unafraid. His young wife,
Elkallah, stood proudly beside him. Though threatened with exile, she
held her head like a queen. From the synagogue came old Mistress
Phillips, leaning upon David's arm. "We will miss you sorely, Mr.
Seixas," she said, sadly, "both as rabbi and as neighbor. I--ah, I am
too old to leave the city where I was born. But perhaps I will send
David to his cousins in Philadelphia."

"But I won't stay there," cried the boy, his cheeks flaming with
excitement. "I'm going to be a soldier--just like the Mac