The Maccabaean

Do you hear the children weeping and disproving, O my brothers, what ye preach?

BACK of the basement was a dirty pool of water in which was collected the debris of the forty families inhabiting the large tenement. The water was forced into the oblong plot of hard-pressed earth which constituted the back-yard of the tenement, by some ground impediment in the old drain-pipe. Festered by time, moisture and natural decomposition, this seething mixture of sewage and rain-water developed life obnoxious to human health. To aggravate the case, it rained for a fortnight. The janitor purposed to remove the mess in a few days, "for," said he, "it is nearing Pesach anyway." It was some days before the Passover that Moshele came to his father, his face flushed, and complained that his head ached.

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Fivl was astonished when he heard the complaint. Moshele had a tremendous appetite, hischeeks were plump and rosy, and, moreover, hehad never complained of being sick, never beforein his seven years of life. Whenever he returned from school, Fivl would have, when in season, an apple, a bun or two, a glass of milk anda stick of candy for dessert, and he would say,when Moshele pounced upon the food, "Moshele,do not eat too much, you hear, you'll explodesome day ;" then he would slip an extra bun intohis hand. For himself there were rolls and acup of coffee for breakfast, a herring and a bunfor dinner, and some sausage and bread and teafor supper ; and he had little enough appetite forthat. But Moshele, thank God, ate at least sixtimes a day. Fivl was lean, bent and grimy,weak-chested and aenemic from sitting doubledup on his cobbler's bench ; but his son, "ah,"he would say to his landlady with pride, "therewill be a strong one for you; he grows like onyeast!" And as he sat at his work, thinkingof the boy, his mind travelled to the graves inthe old country, one large one and five tiny ones,like a Chazan's assistants surrounding it, withthe one slab to identify them all he thoughtof the mother who had given birth to this oneprodigy of strength and wisdom and then had

died; he thought of the tiny babes all swept away at birth, their requiem moaned by a wet- eyed mother; of how he stood at the graves, his one child's hand in his, taking his last leave; and he thought of how proud his Sarah might have been had she lived to see how well her boy had developed; he had passed his life without one day of illness.

Now the boy complained of headache, of lan- gour, and his face was flushed. "Well," thought Fivl, "such things happen; a mere headache; he'll get over it." That night he bought soda- water for Moshele, held him on his knee — he was a wee boy, after all — and sang the old lullaby he knew would soothe him to sleep. He placed him gently on the mattress in the back- room of the basement, smoothed his perspiring brow and turned to his bench, feeling assured that sleep indicated good health.

But that day and the day following Moshele tossed about on his mattress muttering and moaning and swinging his arms, and made no reply when Fivl asked anxiously, “Tell me, Moshele mine, what ails you?” Moshele’s only reply was to turn to the other side of the ragged quilt which was his bed and coverlet, and press his face to the damp wall. Fivl said, “See, Moshele, the boys are all playing; it is near Pesach ; the sun is shining; go, fool, and play with them!” But the boy shivered and attempted to draw the quilt over his head. Then when Fivl produced his old overcoat to tuck him in he threw it off and was perspiring again. Fivl was perplexed.

In his perplexity the third day he purchased ice in bulk, that is, ten cents worth. He brought it to his basement wrapped in an old rag bag. He also bought some lemonade and ripe oranges. He leant over Moshele very gently and applied the iced cloth to his head. Moshele drank the lemonade. He sat up and inquired why it was so dark. He was surprised when told that it was evening. He said, weakly, "And I thought it was morning, time for school." Fivl thought, "It was nothing, a mere headache; the old remedies are the best; no need for doctors or old women." Moshele did not seem to hear the stories Fivl started to tell him. The boy babbled