covered the book by holding it close to his face so that the other could not see the printed page. Nothing daunted, however, the miser turned to his right. There he met with even less charity. The man to the right stood upon no ceremony, but at once placed his hand flatly over the book and said, "Never mind; it's time you bought a prayer book for yourself!" The miser did not reply, but muttered as if to himself, "As if I would take anything from the book if I glanced at it." But he looked about anxiously for another book from which he could read the interrupted prayer.
He hated them all, without exception, and nothing would please him more than to see them all unhappy. And the community reciprocated the feeling with usurious interest. They thought it an act of charity to take advantage of him. Even his own wife and children tried to rob him. He had positive proof of that. A week ago he had gone to the pantry and discovered that two sound herring had been purloined. He was convinced that his wife and children had done away with the fish, had eaten the two really valuable herring when he had expressly forbidden them to take any food from the larder without his permission !
Why then does he pray? He prays becausehe wishes to establish some bond of sympathybetween that band of robbers, the community,and himself; to show them by praying withthem, that he is related to them, so that theymay not rob him when the occasion serves.That was why, although not a hypocrite ordinarily, he here pretended to weep at intervals,tried to squeeze out a tear, to put on a contriteface. But the result of his facial contortionswas to make him even more repulsive to hisneighbors and to increase their contempt for him.
II.
The Beggar
The beggar stood but one step from the synagogue door, pressed close to the wall. . . He was there propped up by the stress of his fellow worshippers, who filled the synagogue to overflow. When he felt tired, he rested against his neighbor. But often his neighbor was not kind and he was compelled to rest by leaning against the hard wall. Even in the very last row, he stood on sufferance.
His small, beady, half-blind eyes roamed about the synagogue to attract the attention of those of his patrons who stood near the Holy Ark to the
fact that he was present, so that they might remember it when he paid them his professional visit. He chanted his prayers in a shrill voice, but his mind was engaged elsewhere; his heart was not in his prayer. He too wanted nothing specially from God, for his mind was preoccupied by other matters, and he could think of nothing for which a prayer might prove efficacious.
His whole life was of a piece. He and his dumb wife begged from door to door. Their three children had long gone their own ways, leaving their old parents to continue their vocation as they pleased. The old man had no vital concern in life aside from knowing when the holydays were due; where the Jews lived and where the Christians; to shun the latter and ask alms of the former; and also to know who were the generous givers. As to knowing the generous givers, his wife was his superior.
In keeping with his social position, he always took whatever place was vacant in the rear of the synagogue. He chimed in with the Chazan whenever he heard the front pew chime in ; he struck his breast automatically whenever he saw his neighbors do likewise. He was eager to put himself in harmony with the congregation.
One thought he had that day, however, which did not leave him. The day before — being the day before Yom Kippur, a day which should have been a good one for him, people feeling so generous on the day preceding the great ;Day — his returns were not as much as he had anticipated. His dumb wife was responsible for his ill-luck. Why had she persisted in going to the German shool when she could have taken her station before the Katzaper congregation? When he had offered her his advice, very mildly, it is true, she refused to listen, persisted in being obstinate, and as a result, she returned to him practically empty handed. Then he told her what he thought of her, called her dumb beast, and even repeated his scolding after he had returned from Kol Nidre, the evening before. His wife was too much humiliated by her failure to dispute what he said. And he would take good care to reiterate what he thought of her conduct of that day, after the fast was over, and many times in the days to come would he din it in her ears, call her beast for her stupidity, and repeat it and repeat it.
In the meantime, with his mind filled with comments on his wife's blunder, he stood near the synagogue door intoning his prayers, tears rolling down his cheeks, and with an eye on the doings of the congregation about him. He