“We are going back to Calcutta,” said Ephraim, to whose sleeve Hester was clinging. “There are more of us there, and here my house is empty.”
He helped Hester into the carriage and, turning back, said to me, “I should have been priest of the synagogue if there had been ten of us. Surely we must have been forgotten by our God.”
The remnant of the broken colony passed out of the station on their journey south; while a subaltern, turning over the books on the bookstall, was whistling to himself “The Ten Little Nigger Boys.”
But the tune sounded as solemn as the Dead March.
It was the dirge of the Jews in Shushan.
GEORGIE PORGIE
Copyright, 1891, by Macmillan & Co.
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the girls came out to play