ch would deprive the Czar of his subjects. He therefore sent a
communication to the Rabbi, stating that he had no objection to such a
committee as had been formed, provided it was created under the auspices
of the Government. It was customary, he said, for the ruling family to
be identified with all movements of this sort, and as an evidence of
good-will towards the Jews, his wife, Countess Louise, desired to be
elected Honorary President of the newly-organized society.

The Israelites received this communication with undisguised contempt.
The Rabbi denounced the inconsistency of the Governor, who had hitherto
never denied his animosity towards the Jews, but who now desired to pose
as their benefactor. A resolution was adopted declining to honor the
Countess Drentell with the office she coveted.

The Governor seized upon this as a pretext for the wickedest measures
against the unfortunate people. The following day, placards were issued
from a secret printing-press in Kief, and distributed throughout the
town and surrounding country, declaring that the Czar had confiscated
the property of the Jews and had presented it to his loyal subjects.
Wherever the commiserating face of a Madonna gazed down from her icon,
there hung one of these placards, which was destined to let loose the
worst passions of which man is capable. As if this were not potent
enough, Mikail the priest travelled in person through the province,
denouncing the Jews, and exhorting the orthodox Russians to wreak
vengeance upon them for real or fictitious crimes.

On came the flood which, once started, threatened to engulf the entire
Jewish population of Russia.

On May 6th, the mob attacked the Hebrew quarter at Smielo, and thirteen
men were killed, twenty wounded and sixteen hundred left without homes.

It was authoritatively announced that a riot would begin in Kief on
Sunday, the eighth of May. On weekdays the _moujiks_ were for the
greater part in the fields hard at work, while on Sunday they were free
to take part in the plunder and destruction.

The seventh was a sad day for our friends. It was the Sabbath, the last
that many of them would live to celebrate. The synagogues were filled to
overflowing with weeping women and terror-stricken men. There was no
hope, no consolation anywhere. Sadly and sorrowfully the services
proceeded, each worshipper praying as though his end were close at hand.
Not even the inspiring words of Rabbi Winenki could che