The Hungry Ghost
OISHE, the butcher, was yet in the prime of life and health. Having at his disposal enormous quantities of such nutritious food as meat he was probably the best-fed man in Pohost. One glance at his plump red cheeks and robust vigorous constitution, in contradistinction to the sallow, cadaverous looking town-folk, sufficed to corroborate this supposition.
Moishe was generally acknowledged as a man possessed of an enterprising, resourceful mind with dreams of colossal commercial conquests in his heart. Not content with his being the only "Kosher" butcher in town, he extended his trade to strange territory, supplying meat to all neighboring farmers and villagers.
The chief factor in his success, however, was attributed by close observers to his happy family life, which gives one courage and energy in all of one's undertakings. For he was the husband of a good loyal wife and the father of three pretty little children, whom he ardently loved and admired.
People of such character and condition, you know, don’t think of death and do not expect it too soon. That he should awake one bright morning, in the midst of his plans and aspirations, to find himself dead, hungry, and forsaken—the most wretched execrated creature in God’s wide universe—was something which seemed to him incredible, incomprehensible, and yet, as he realized in the course of time, was a tangible, visible, and undeniable cruel matter of fact.
It sounds strange, paradoxical, or at best, like a fairy tale. How can one be dead and hungry at the same time? But things which could never transpire in eventless New York, America, were not very extraordinary occurrences in Pohost, Russia.
be Der a rt" ne A ve It was in those days when people—rich people especially—were too fond of life to take death seriously. Securing sepulchres while alive was not in vogue. The “Chevra Kedishah” that had jurisdiction over the burial-ground, charged for burial plots according to the financial standing of the demised or of his relatives. The prices they exacted from wealthy misers, who were unfortunate enough to die, were most ruthless. The heirs simply groaned under the heavy tax levied on them.
Among the butcher's out-of-town customers was an exceedingly rich niggard, whose name was Nachman Kamtzon. He was never known to have welcomed a stranger or offered a poor, wandering beggar something to eat. In the course of the five years that Moishe had been dealing with him Nachman never invited him to a glass of "schnapps" or wine, as was the custom of all his other patrons.
Nachman had a wife and an only son, whom he had trained and educated to follow his greedy and avaricious ways.
"On three things does the world exist," was the favorite maxim father and son used to repeat at every occasion, "on money, money, and money." And they did hoard money, giving nothing to the people in return.
All institutions and societies, charitable as well as educational, abandoned all hopes of ever inducing this hard-hearted tightwad to donate aught for any cause,
with the exception of one powerful society, whose services Nachman would sooner or later require. This was the "Sacred Association," who nourished vindictive thoughts of a sweeping retaliation when the day of retribution would come.
"Nachman Kamtzon is also but a mortal," members of that society used to say consolingly, "and when the time arrives he will pay in full and plenty."
And his time did arrive. He was stricken one day with apoplexy and instantly died.
Mother and son were much worried over the exorbitant sum that would in all probabilities be exacted from them for disposing of their dead, and holding counsel together, they hit upon a scheme, which they immediately proceeded to carry out.
They removed the corpse to an innermost room, the door of which they securely locked, so as not to let anybody know that a death had occurred, and awaited the arrival of Moishe, who usually came on that day to leave them their portion of meat.
Moishe that day was greeted with a most cordial "Sholom Aleichem," at which he was rather surprised.
"You are certainly tired," said the successor of Nachman Kamtzon in a compassionate and tender tone, when the butcher turned to leave. "Take a little rest."
"But, my horse," argued Moishe, "somebody may steal it."
"O, never mind," assured the miser's heir, "I'll take him into the stable and give him plenty of oats and bran."
Moishe was astonished at the sudden change of that rigid, proud boy into such an amiable, hospitable good fellow. He accepted his kind invitation, however, and remained in the house.
The mother served wine and brandy, to which the guest helped himself considerably, so that he became intoxicated and fell into a deep, deathlike sleep.
Then the thrifty and ingenious administrators of Nachman's estate put Moishe's garments on Nachman, while the shrouds of the latter they put on the former.
When this work was ended it was already dusk, which time was very appropriate for the execution of their plan. They put the two bodies on the wagon and drove to the cemetery of the Pohost community.
It was a dark, cold autumn night. The wind blew fiercely and ominously through the vast forest, which they passed on their way to the burial-place. It tore down branches and uprooted trees. The voice of the whippoorwill sounded more portentous and querulous than ever. Innumerable spectres and phantoms appeared on the road which almost frightened their souls out of them, and at which the horse stopped and reared. Indeed, it was the most trying and daring adventure mother or son ever dreamt of having to experience. But so intense was their terror of being exploited and tortured by the heartless and sanguinary “Sacred Association,” which hankered for an opportunity to avenge itself on the Nachman family, that they preferred to undergo this gruesome experience than fall a prey to their avowed foes, and with grim determination they proceeded on their lonely and dismal iournev.
Arriving on the burial-ground they carried Moishe into a vault and shut the door. Then they drove the wagon with Nachman in it to the road leading to Po-