with the fish for the holy festival."

That was what my mother said to me on the eve of "_Shevuous_," about
mid-day. She was helping the cook to prepare the fish for the supper.
The fishes were still alive and wriggling. When they were put into a
clay basin and covered with water they were still struggling.

More than any of the others there struggled a little carp with a broad
back, and a round head and red eyes. It seemed that the little carp had
a strong desire to get back into the river. It struggled hard. It leaped
out of the basin, flapped its tail, and splashed the water right into my
face. "Little boy, save me! Little boy, save me!"

I wiped my face, and betook myself to the task of scraping the
horse-radish for the supper. I thought within myself, "Poor little fish.
I can do nothing for you. They will soon take you in hand. You will be
scaled and ripped open, cut into pieces, put in a pot, salted and
peppered, placed on the fire, and boiled and simmered, and simmered, and
simmered."

"It's a pity," I said to my mother. "It's a pity for the living."

"Of whom is it a pity?"

"It's a pity of the little fishes."

"Who told you that?"

"The teacher."

"The teacher?"

She exchanged glances with the cook who was helping her, and they both
laughed aloud.

"You are a fool, and your teacher a still greater fool. Ha! ha! Scrape
the horse-radish, scrape away."

That I was a fool I knew. My mother told me that frequently, and my
brothers and my sisters too. But that my teacher was a greater fool than
I--that was news to me.

* * *

I have a comrade, Pinalle, the "_Shochet's_" son. I was at his house one
day, and I saw how a little girl carried a fowl, a huge cock, its legs
tied with a string. My comrade's father, the "_Shochet_," was asleep,
and the little girl sat at the door and waited. The cock, a fine strong
bird, tried to get out of the girl's arms. He drove his strong feet into
her, pecked at her hand, let out from his throat a loud
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" protested as much as he could. But the girl was no
weakling either. She thrust the head of the rooster under her arm and
dug her elbows into him, saying:

"Be still, you wretch!"

And he obeyed and remained silent.

When the "_Shochet_" woke up, he washed his hands and took out his
knife. He motioned to have the bird handed to him. I imagined that the
cock changed colour. He must have thought that he was going to be freed
to race back to his he