ebe," she used to call me. (My name is Velvalle.) And she used
to pull me by the nose with her small, thin, sweet little fingers.
Because of her, because of Peralle, every one calls me "Uncle Bebebe."

"Here comes Uncle Bebebe, and he will take you in hand."

* * *

Peralle was a sickly child. That is to say, in the ordinary way she was
all right, but she could not walk, neither walk nor stand, only sit.
They used to carry her into the open and put her sitting in the sand,
right in the sun. She loved the sun, loved it terribly. I used to carry
her about. She used to clasp me around the neck with her small, thin,
sweet little fingers, and nestle her whole body close to me --closer and
closer. She would put her head on my shoulder. "I love Uncle Bebebe."

Our neighbour Krenni says she cannot forget Uncle Bebebe to this day.
When she sees me, she says she is again reminded of her Peralle.

My mother is angry with her for weeping.

"We must not weep," says my mother. "We must not sin. We must
forget--forget."

That is what my mother says. She interrupts Krenni in the middle and
drives me off.

"If you don't get into our eyes, we won't remember that which we must
not."

Ha! ha! How is it possible to forget? When I think of that little girl
the tears come into my eyes of their own accord--of their own accord.

"See, he weeps again, the wise one," cries "Fruma with the little eye"
to my mother. My mother gives me a quick glance and laughs aloud.

"The horse-radish has gone into your eyes. The devil take you. It's a
hard piece of horse-radish. I forgot to tell him to close his eyes. Woe
is me! Here is my apron. Wipe your eyes, foolish boy. And your nose,
too, wipe at the same time your nose, your nose."

The Tabernacle

There are people who have never been taught anything, and know
everything, have never been anywhere, and understand everything, have
never given a moment's thought to anything, and comprehend everything.

"Blessed hands" is the name bestowed on these fortunate beings. The
world envies, honours and respects them.

There was such a man in our town, Kassrillevka. They called him
Moshe-for-once, because, whatever he heard or saw or made, he exclaimed:

"It is such-and-such a thing for once."

A new cantor in the synagogue--he is a cantor for once.

Some one is carrying a turkey for the Passover--it is a turkey for once.

"There will be a fine frost tomorrow."

"A fine frost for once."