property, and had some means of their own, but who, at the time of the
late famine, had got into difficulties. 'I,' said one, 'had a little
farm in a village near Jerusalem.' 'I,' said another, 'was the owner of
a nice little vineyard or oliveyard on the hill side,' 'I,' said a
third, 'built a house in the city on my return from captivity, and hoped
to leave it to my children.' 'But so terrible was our distress in the
famine,' say these men, 'that we were obliged to borrow money of our
neighbours the rich Jews in Jerusalem. They were willing to lend the
money, but they required security for it, and we were compelled to
pledge or mortgage our little property to these men, and now times are
still bad, and we see no hope whatever that we shall be able to buy our
little possessions back again' (ver. 3).

(3) But the shrillest cries of all came from the third class of
complainants. These were men who, up to a certain point, resembled the
second class. They had once possessed a little property, but in the time
of famine they had parted with their lands, their houses, and their
vineyards like the rest. But the story of the third class did not end
here, these had since then got into still worse difficulties. The
tax-collector had come round to collect the tribute for Artaxerxes, and
he had demanded immediate payment. They had, however, nothing to give
him. What could they do? They were obliged once more to borrow money of
their rich neighbours, who lent it to them at the rate of 12 per cent,
(one eighth part of the money to be paid monthly). And what pledge, what
security did these nobles require for their money? The poor people had
already lost their houses and their vineyards, there was nothing left to
them but their children, and actually the son or the daughter was
pledged or mortgaged to the rich money-lender. If the heavy interest is
not paid, at any moment the child may be seized, and carried off to the
noble's house to be brought up as a slave. 'Nay,' cry some of the