ars he had saved with so much eagerness through the years of
patient waiting.

The money, still unspent, lay in Morris's wallet the day Mr. Lincoln
came home to Springfield. The humble rail splitter had returned to his
home town in kingly triumph. As his funeral train crossed the
continent, every great city, every tiny village, crape-hung and
grief-stricken, had sent its citizens to do him homage. Even the
farmers from the scattered farms along the way lit funeral pyres as
the dark procession thundered past through the night. Now the citizens
of Chicago stood bowed in grief as the body of the martyred president
was borne through the silent streets. Strong men wept openly and
unashamed; but Morris, standing at his father's side on the curbing,
did not cry. Somehow, it all seemed too terrible for tears. And,
because he was just a small boy, after all not the least of his grief
was the thought that now it was too late to send Mr. Lincoln his
present.

THE LAND COLUMBUS FOUND

_The Story of the Tablet Placed Upon the Statue of Liberty in New
York Harbor._

This isn't a story at all, just a sort of "good-bye" word to the boys
and girls who have read these tales of Jewish men and women who tried
to do their part in the making of America. Do you remember away back
to the first one, the story of the Jews who from Columbus's flag ship
dreamed of the promised land, but never knew that the continent their
admiral discovered would some day be a place of refuge for their race?
Now, every year, thousands of men and women and children, a great many
of our own people among them, seek a refuge here. If you go to Ellis
Island, you may see them entering this New World where they hope to
find home and happiness. I have seen them with their baskets and their
bundles of household goods, their little children in their arms, (do
you remember how Reuben wandered through the storm carrying his little
son?), crossing the gang plank of the steamer which brings them to the
island, raising their tired eyes in mute gratitude to the American
flag which floats above them as they pass. And from where I stood I
could also see the great Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, the
woman with the light in her hand to guide the weary wanderers across
the sea.

If you visit this statue, boys and girls, you will see at the base a
bronze tablet with a short poem engraved upon it. The poem was written
by a Jewish woman, Emma Lazarus, our first a