Peloni's black eyes shone.
"There will be a great crush and only ticket-holders can be admitted into the church."
"Into the church!" echoed Peloni, paling.
"Yes," said the Judge of Israel impressively, as he stood before a glass to adjust the graceful folds of his crimson robe. "Our fellow-citizens in Buffalo have been good enough to lend us the Episcopal Church for the ceremony."
"What ceremony?" he faltered, as horrid images swept before him, and he heard all the way from Frankfort the taunting cry of "Missionary!"
"The laying of the foundation-stone of Ararat."
"Laying the foundation-stone in a church!" Peloni was puzzled.
"Ah," said the Major, misunderstanding him; "it seems strange to you, nursed in the musty lap of Europe. But here in this land of freedom and this century of enlightenment all men are brothers."
"But surely the foundation-stone should be laid on Grand Island."
"It would have been desirable. But so many will wish to be present at this great celebration. Buffalo alone has some thirteen hundred inhabitants. How should we get them across? There are scarcely any boats to be had—and Ararat is twelve miles away. No, no, it is better to hold our ceremony in Buffalo. It is, after all, only a symbolism. The corner-stone is already being inscribed in Hebrew and English. 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. Ararat, a City of Refuge for the Jews, founded by Mordecai M. Noah in the month Tishri, corresponding with September, 1825, in the fiftieth year of American Independence.'"