Miss Fayza Abdul Majeed, one of the leading women of letters in Palestine, has kindly accepted the invitation of The Woman's Voice to join its editorial family — glad tidings which we announce to our readers, women and men, with pride.

In the middle of last July, Palestine witnessed a momentous national event which must be counted, beyond all doubt, among the immortal stands in the struggle between bondage and liberation, between extinction and survival — when her eyes opened upon the greatest tragedy ever acted on the stage of her land and witnessed by all humanity, as her rights were plundered and she was sold as chattels are sold, with neither conscience nor right. So she called for three congresses — of the men, then the youth, then the women — to ward off the danger and to speak her word on two great matters to which her destiny is bound: the preservation of the land, and the boycott. To speak it strong, proud, unyielding — in it the word of truth, and the decisive utterance...

Behold, the congress con-venes in the Holy City. And that was a day of mighty significance, of shining signs. And those flags, symbol of Arab glory, flutter from their heights, while stars of vic-tory and battalions of deliv-erance encompass it, press-ing their march to the rescue of the holy land! The assem-bly took order; an awe fell upon the place, ruled over by majesty, while there flowed into the ears deep, tender

strains from girls singing the anthem of the flag...

The girls' voices rose, piercing and stirring, mounted into the air and penetrated to the very limbs; feelings surged, hearts throbbed, tears streamed... For Palestine has no flag, has no anthem — and flag and anthem are the emblem of glory, the symbol of sovereignty, the badge of freedom. And where are the signs of glory for one colonized, and sovereignty for one subjugated, and freedom for one

And the flags yearned over Palestine, hovering above her

with a mother's tender-ness, while the voice of right called to her, ringing out from the lands of the Nile and the Tigris and Barada and the Cedars and the slopes of the Himalayas: Palestine, may everything cheap and pre-cious be your ransom; you shall have a dawn bright as truth, everlasting as justice, radiant as light...

And Palestine rose up, her wounds flowing in drops that served her for ink, complaining from the Holy City, from the Mountain of Fire, and from every town and dwelling; complaining of 'the annihilation of a nation, the sale of a people in the market of colo-nialism and enslavement'; renewing her fidelity to the covenant — never since the dawn of the struggle has her resolve flagged; no, nor has her lance bent under ordeals, nor has her certainty been shaken by calamities. She rose to speak her word in an eloquent proclamation, that the East might say it to the West: 'No. No. No enslavement after today; no contempt for the weak — for the weak has the strength of right; the land belongs to its owners; and glory belongs to the Arabs...'

And the voice of proud Lebanon rose, proclaiming the sincerity of fidelity in generosity of sacrifice; and after it Syria the mother, proclaiming what she proclaims in sincerity and resolve; and Egypt, the qibla of Arabism, sec-onded her, spoke true and delivered the message; and

the anguished Maghrib cried out, championing the brethren — distant though the home may be — for it and Palestine are, in affliction,

twins...

Yet one loud supporting voice was not heard. Where is the voice of Iraq the rescuer — where is it, hot with the heat of the desert, proud with the pride of disdain? Immortal Baghdad: do you remember the day