The lights blazed yesterday, there in beloved Egypt.. the lights of the incendiary bombs that demolished the dwellings but could not demolish the morale of their people.. and killed thousands, yet whoever remained remained a hero, leaping and leaping until the miracle of victory came.

The lights blazed there, and the little ones went off to take part in the battle in earnest.. As for the children under ten, their toys were rifles and airplanes.. and their battles a faithful imitation of the battles of the grown-ups.. The little ones would have nothing less than to join the battle however they could.. The sellers of children's toys there declared that the demand for rifles, cannon, and little airplanes was astonishing.. indeed, 80 percent of what they sell is of these kinds.

The like of this used to happen yesterday in Palestine.. The little ones there would take metal utensils from the houses, in secret from their mothers, to set them on their heads as helmets.. then arm themselves with wooden rifles and march in ranks to imaginary combat, chanting: "My country, my country, my blood is your ransom."

Thus are our little ones forever moved by the events around them.. and thus the spirit of Arabism will have nothing less than to leap to their lips as anthems of fervor and pride.. and into their movements as battles and victory.

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Our little ones are this army of the nation.. the army destined to build the glory of the Arab nation anew.. to revive its glory and its pride anew.. and to record the history of its leap anew.. Shall we make use of this spirit in them.. the spirit of being moved by events.. and the spirit of imitating the grown-up sol-diers.. and so nurture this spirit and strengthen it?..

The lights have blazed — the lights of the holiday in the markets.. and the people have gone hurrying their steps, parcels of gifts for the little ones under their arms.. for the holiday is the holiday of beloved childhood.

Our little ones today are living in their golden age..

everything dear comes cheap for the sake of the joy of their tender hearts.. and we — even the working class among us — cut from our most essential necessities to buy gifts for the little ones.

And yet.. in this very circumstance.. must we give the little ones gifts.. and what shall we give?..

The question may seem strange, for the pieces of our hearts must be made happy.. But do you suppose we truly make them happy by our outlay.. and how long does their happiness last?.. Our little ones have been glutted with gifts until everything has lost all value for them.. and the grandest toy we give them amuses them for a few hours, then they tire of it.. They have been glutted, and we have almost made of them a generation that knows nothing but play and pleasure.

Toys have become for them a tax we pay in submission.. They issue their military orders thus.. Buy me this.. I want that.. and we obey and obey until we have almost created a selfish generation that understands nothing but taking.. as for giving or sacrificing — no.

We have competed in gift-giving and in the sums set aside for it.. yet the gift is in its origin a symbol.. a small thing betokening love and affection.. and the exchange of love and affection.. and we have strayed from the symbol and overstepped it.

And we remember yesterday.. The little ones had no horses that looked like real horses.. but the stick beneath the little boy was his precious steed.. he would gallop on it to meet the enemy.. wage battles from its back, and when he triumphed he would come home and tie it to the tree.. And they grew into men who do not stand long before the mirror, but fight for the sake of honor and dignity..

The girls had no dolls that open one eye and close it; they would make a doll from a tree branch forked at the legs.. a round button was set in place as a face and covered with cloth, so that two eyes, a nose, and a mouth could be drawn upon it.. then the little girl would sit beside her mother, sewing with her help a dress for the doll, and thus the small hands were trained to work.. and when the making of the doll was complete, oh what happiness, and oh what fierce care was taken of it.

There was no kitchen or little iron oven decorated in