The Maccabaean

Ir was at Central Park that I met him. The day being unusually warm, I had stretched myself en the grass, seeking shelter from the scorching rays of the sun beneath a large and shadowy tree. I was not, however, permitted to enjoy my isolation very long. A man walked across the driveway, approached and placed himself on the other side of the tree, opposite where I lay. He was tall, broad-shouldered with a square-set jaw, clean shaven, his face was tanned, and he was clad ın a light summer suit, in the English fashion. Being interested in an account of how the second Russian Duma was dissolved, published in one of the morning newspapers, I paid no further attention to the newcomer.

He asked for a match. I gave it to him. He lit his pipe, at the same time making use of every possible device to draw me into a conversation. After awhile we began to speak, naturally, about the weather. This topic exhausted, he inquired about certain places in New York —and lastly, he asked, in a sort of apologetic manner, whether I was a Jew. Having received an answer in the affirmative, the conversation became more intimate.

We had been together for over an hour when he began to tell me who he was, where he came from, and especially how he had spent the last ten years.

From this I learned that his name was Reinman (that is, he alone went under that name, his father and grandfather having been known as Rashkofsky). He was born in Germany, whereto his father immigrated from Russian-Poland; and he was a graduate of a leading Berlin University.

He seemed to entertain the greatest admiration for that University, and for this reason: though most of the other Jewish students were harassed on account of being Jews, he was never obliged to share their fate. And Mr. Reinman proceeded to explain the reason.

“You see,” he exclaimed, “before I entered the University I had my nose operated on—I mean I had it somewhat remodeled,” he added with a smile. “It was terribly Jewish-like, and if I had not fixed it up I should have had the time of my life. In this way, however, I passed as a gentle and thus escaped the maltreatment that Jewish students were subjected to.” And then he concluded, triumphantly: “It takes a ‘Yudishe kopf’ to devise a means by which he can hide his Jewish identity.”

It was the account he gave of the impressions the countries he had visited since his return from Africa, had made on him, that interested me most, and this I set down almost in full

“From Africa I sailed directly to Germany,” began Mr. Reinman, raising himself to a sitting posture, “and the first city I stopped at was Berlin. My father awaited me at the station with a cab and we drove straight home. Immediately on my arrival I found that somewhat of a strange atmosphere pervaded the house. I saw on the walls pictures of Jews with long beards. In the book cases were Jewish books, and my father wore one of those six-pointed buttons inscribed with Hebrew letters. I was amazed! I remembered that prior to my departure for Africa everything was done to deny the fact of our being Jews. We employed gentile servants, observed their holidays and did everything else and even more. And now my eighteen-year-old sister was overjoyed because she could converse in Hebrew. All this impressed me very unfavorably, so, having greeted the family, I excused myself and hastened to the University. There I hoped to find things as I had left them ten years ago.

"On arriving I learned that in one of the halls a meeting of students was being held. I hurried into the hall. The place being over-