of the magazine, and without his care THE MACCABAEAN would have disappeared seven years ago. He was a Zionist of unusual modesty, although his opinions were always sensible and his judgment good. He never spoke much of what he personally had done for the magazine. He went about seeking men who could help it. He rendered such service, for a space of five years, that one wonders at his patience,
his devotion, his enthusiasm. This same enthusiasm colored his congregational work. He was continually giving of himself in all humility. He made friends by his self-devotion. These friends, and there are many of them, now mourn his death. How fine it would be if the group of men who co-operated with him in the Bronx section of New York took up the work for THE MACCABAEAN which he laid down.
FOR THE LOVE OF THE TORAH
(From the Hebrew of M. B.)
In the synagogue of the "Germans," a sixteen year old lad in worn, ragged garments is seated, absorbed in a Bible. His coarse features betray his low origin, but in his large dark eyes gleam the courage and determination not to abandon the road once taken, despite the great difficulties and obstacles that must be overcome.
The worshippers of the synagogue all know him, this lad Simon, the son of the shoemaker. They are all very fond of the boy, but at the same time they all keep out of his way. They love him for his pious behavior and his untiring zeal in the study of the Torah; they prefer, however, to shun him, because he habitually annoys them with the request to clear up some passage in the Torah for him. Fundamentally, of course it is not right to reject anyone with such a petition, for it is the holiest duty of one versed in the Torah—to teach others; but it certainly is not easy or pleasant to present anything to a boy like Simon who never satisfies himself with just one explanation.
"I don't understand it yet," Simon wails after some verse had been explained to him over and over again.
"How can I help it?" they answer him. "I have explained it to you so often and I have no more patience. You began too late I'm afraid, and you're not fitted for learning. You should rather stick to your last!"
In fact, Simon had been apprenticed to his father, an ignorant shoemaker, and had acquired the trade to a certain extent. But suddenly there arose within him the call
to dedicate himself to the study of the Torah.
"Must a shoemaker remain ignorant of the Torah?" he boldly demanded.
But what can you do when the good Lord God has endowed you with such a hard pate? Surely I cannot place a new head on your shoulders!"
"If I have a hard pate, them I must exert myself twice as much," he replies.
"But I can't spend the whole livelong day with you. I must go home now."
After such colloquies, Simon used to bow his head and remain in hopeless resignation. But soon he bravely rouses himself and his tearful eyes light up with pure joy.
"Well then, we'll do it differently," he says smiling. "You promised me to explain the whole chapter; well, now, explain instead only three verses six times, and that will make as many verses as the whole chapter contains."
In the face of such a calculation, there is nothing left to the teacher but to laugh, and to pardon the student's persistence. In this way the study is continued, until the whole chapter is disposed of.
With such great pains, and with all possible trickeries, Simon succeeded at last, in acquiring some knowledge of the Pentateuch.
He found an excellent teacher in Michael, a ten-year-old boy, who enjoyed throughout the city, the reputation of a “Lamdan.” The latter taught him daily before the morning services; on days when there was no school, he studied with