The Pulaskian., 1919-07-11

(<Hw(E-KE-OO-Te-ke-oo;" the 0w notes ring out poignant,
 @ pitiful; "Te-ke-oo." Once
 again it ,resounds in the hoary rifts of the "wailing wall," rem nant of Hebrew glory, symbol of He brew fall. Piercing, clear, it heralds a mighty surge of grief. For from the gloom of a hundred souls cry is wrung, uncanny in the smiling sum- shine, writes Marian Wenstein to the Chicago Daily News. The Jews of Jerusalem have come te mourn, to pray. They have brought to theft Father the sting of their newest afflic- tion, the fresh page in their long tragedy-the slaughter of their breth- Ter in free Galicia.
 The bearded elders in their faded caftans bend and sway over their huAA tonnes. Their earlocks brush the yellowing leaves of prayer. Apart on the cobbled street sit shawled wS-nen, scar, fleshless, resting their quivering forms against native hut Their younger sisters old-young wom- Sn, press the temple ruin. Now they fondle the stones and now they clutch them in despair, choking dry sobs. Beyond, girl is weeping. She has lived through a Russian pogrom. There is Hull in the vail For a mo- ment the mass of motley headgear- skull caps, turbans, fezzes-ceases to sway. But only for moment And now the little Talmud Torah boys come from their schools, tiny replicas, with their side curls and long coats, of their elders. They file in under their rabbi's eye, a look of awe on their pale faces.
 All United in Mourninu.
 Jerusalem has forgotten it's squab- bles. In this hour of prayer and mourning before their Maker all Jews are brothers. "A dole, dole" a wretched bundle of rags whimpers through the crowd. Between two sputtering candles against the wall khaki-clad soldier from the Jewish battalion pauses to read the call to this prayer that was posted for days in the streets of the Holy City, in Hebrew and In Yiddish.
 "Terrible reports come to us, one after the other, from Galicia. Ene- mics of Israel shed Jewish blood like water. Hundreds of Jewish vic tins have been murdered amid all sorts of atrocities, Countless inno- cents, men, women and children, our peoples most pious souls, have fallen. In Lemberg alone 108, butchered and burned, were buried in one grave. Scores of scrolls of the law have been destroyed, and such outrages were committed as in the day of the de- struction of the temple. All our brethren In Galicia are in deadly ter TOT.
 "Our elders, therefore, have met and decided that the whole communi- ty-men, women and children-should assemble Tuesday at 8 o'clock, Arabic time, at the temple ruin to read the psalms and blow the shophar that the Lord above may take pity upon our brethren"
 "Ibrahiml Ibrahiml" A shrill cry strikes the air. From the roof of her stone hut a swarthy Arab woman calls her son, who has somehow been caught in the wailing, swaying multi tude. "Ibrahim !"
 At the Mailing Place.
 The Jewish soldier rescues the re- luctant Ibrahim just as a score of | British Tommies appear in the wake of a Moslem guide.
 Here you have the Jews wailing | wall," he recites in a sing-song. "The l upper stones were built in the time of l the Romans, but the lower blocks be- longed to Solomon's temple. Here the Jews come every Friday to wail.1
 The Jewish soldier has recognized | fellow Jew in an American Red Cross doctor, standing thoughtfully at the edge of the praying crowd.
 From what part of the States are your" he whispers eagerly. I'm from Philly. thought you might be, too.' Down the stony steps leading to the wailing place new figures are ever hurrying, scurrying. The Talnud Torab children are leaving with their rabbi The weeping girl leans against the Arab hut now, her eyes half closed, her lips trembling. The old young women still cling to the wall as f the God whose ear they seek were in its very stones.
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