two blades, fine, steel ones, sharp as razors,
and a white bone handle, and brass ends, and copper rivets. I tell you,
it was a beauty, a real good pocket-knife.

How came to me such a fine knife, that was never meant for such as I?
That is a whole story--a sad, but interesting story. Listen to me
attentively.

What value in my eyes had the German Jew who lodged with us--the
contractor, Herr Hertz Hertzenhertz, when he spoke Yiddish, went about
without a cap, had no beard or earlocks, and had his coat-tails cut off?
I ask you how I could have helped laughing into his face, when that
Jewish-Gentile, or Gentilish-Jew talked to me in Yiddish, but in a
curious Yiddish with a lot of A's in it.

"Well, dear boy, which portion of the Law will be read this week?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" I burst out laughing and hid my face in my hands.

"Say, say, my dear child, what portion of the Law will be read this
week?"

"Ha! ha! ha! Balak," I burst out with a laugh, and ran away.

But that was only in the beginning, before I knew him. Afterwards, when
I knew Herr Hertz Hertzenhertz better (he lived at our house for over a
year) I loved him so well that I did not care if he said no prayers, and
ate his food without saying the blessings. Nevertheless, I did not
understand how he existed, and why the Lord allowed him to remain in the
world. Why was he not choked at table? And why did the hair not fall out
of his uncovered head? I had heard from my teacher, Mottel, the "Angel
of Death," from his own mouth, that this German Jew was only a spirit.
That is to say, a Jew was turned into a German; and later on he might
turn into a wolf, a cow, a horse, or maybe a duck. A duck?

"Ha! ha! ha! A fine story," thought I. But I was genuinely sorry for the
German. Nevertheless, I did not understand why my father, who was a very
orthodox Jew, should pay the German Jew so much respect, as also did the
other Jews who used to come into our house.

"Peace be unto you, Reb Hertzenhertz! Blessed art thou who comest, Reb
Hertz Hertzenhertz!"

I once ventured to ask my father why this was so, but he thrust me to
one side and said:

"Go away. It is not your business. Why do you get under our feet? Who
the devil wants you? Why the devil can't you take a book into your
hands? Heh-heh-heh-heh!"

Again a book? Lord of the world, I also want to see; I also want to hear
what people are saying.

I went into the parlour, hid myself in a corner, and heard everythi