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- Thoughts in Jerusalem, by Courtney N. Oleen
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Thoughts in Jerusalem
By Courtney N. Oleen
THE shouting came nearer and nearer, a
sort of rhythmic chant in sharp staccato
accents, rising at times to an angry roar,
then falling to a melancholy wail
suggesing infinite grief, remorse, longing, despair.
In fhe narrow, dusky street zigzagging
crazily between overhanging stone tenements, I
found myself suddenly hemmed in by a mob of
lunatics, a human sea surging up the crooked
street, jostling, shoving, whirling in eddies about
me. The din of their recurrent chant almost
deafened me. Again and again they proclaimed
in reverberating unison this cry, this petition,
this defiance, whatever it was. Long-haired and
bearded Jews in turbans and yellow robes,
sternfaced as prophets of old; young men in shabby
black and the red fez, their eyes dilated with
passionate zeal; middle-aged matrons in sombre
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