are are followed by a day of peace
and security.

The poor, despised Hebrew, who, during the past week, has been hunted
and persecuted, bound by the chain of intolerance and scourged by the
whip of fanaticism; who, in fair weather and foul, has wandered from
place to place with his pack, stinting, starving himself, that he may
provide bread for his wife and little ones, has returned for the Sabbath
eve, to find, in the presence and in the smiles of his dear ones, an
ample compensation for the care and anxiety he has been compelled to
endure.

At the end of the street, and not far from the last house in the
settlement, stands the House of Prayer. Thither the population of the
Jewish quarter wends its way. Men arrayed in their best attire, and
followed by troops of children, who from earliest infancy have been
taught to acknowledge the efficacy of prayer, enter the synagogue.

It is a poor, modest-looking enclosure.

A number of tallow candles illumine its recesses. The _oron-hakodesh_,
or ark containing the holy Pentateuch, a shabbily-covered pulpit, or
_almemor_, and a few rough praying-desks for the men, are all that
relieve the emptiness of the room. Around one side there runs a gallery,
in which the women sit during divine service. In spite of its humble
plainness, the place beams with cheerfulness; it bears the impress of
holiness. Gradually the benches fill. All of the men, and many of the
boys who form the population of the quarter, are present.

Reb Mordecai Winenki, the reader, begins the service. Prayers of sincere
gratitude are sent on high. The worshippers greet the Sabbath as a lover
greets his long-awaited bride--with joy, with smiles, with loving
fervor. The service is at an end and the happy participants return to
their homes.

Beautiful is the legend of the Sabbath eve.

When a man leaves the synagogue for his home, an Angel of Good and an
Angel of Evil accompany him. If he finds the table spread in his house,
the Sabbath lamps lighted, and his wife and children in festive attire,
ready to bless the holy day of rest, then the good Angel says:

"May the next Sabbath and all thy Sabbaths be like this. Peace unto this
dwelling!"

And the Angel of Evil is forced to say, "Amen."

No one, indeed, would, before entering one of these poor, unpainted huts
expect to find the cheerful and brilliant interior that greets his eyes.
Let us enter one of the houses, that of Reb Mordecai Winenki.

The table