eeing such visitors, our teacher, "_Reb_"
Zorach, pulled on his long coat, and put his hat on his head. And
because of his great excitement, one of his earlocks got twisted up
behind his ear. His hat got creased; and more than half of his little
round cap was left sticking out at the back of his head, from under his
hat; and one of his cheeks began to blaze. One could see that something
extraordinary was going to happen.

Of late, "_Reb_" Shalom-Shachno the Matchmaker had started coming into
the school a little too often. He always called the teacher outside,
where they stood talking together for some minutes, whispering and
getting excited. The matchmaker gesticulated with his hands, and
shrugged his shoulders. He always finished up with a sigh, and said:

"Well, it's the same story again. If it is destined it will probably
take place. How can we know anything--how?"

When the visitors came in, our teacher, "_Reb_" Zorach, did not know
what to do, or where he was to seat them. He took hold of the kitchen
stool on which his wife salted the meat, and first of all spun round and
round with it several times, and went up and down the whole length of
the room. After this, he barely managed to place the stool on the floor
when he sat down on it himself. But he at once jumped up again, greatly
confused; and he caught hold of the back pocket of his long coat, just
as if he had lost a purse of money.

"Here is a stool. Sit down," he said to his visitors.

"It's all right! Sit down, sit down," said my father to him. "We have
come in to you, '_Reb_' Zorach, only for a minute. This gentleman wants
to examine my son--to see what he knows of the Bible."

And my father pointed to Hershel the Tax-collector.

"Oh, by all means! Why not?" answered the teacher, "_Reb_" Zorach. He
took up a little Bible, and handed it to Hershel the Tax-collector. The
expression on his face was as if he were saying: "Here it is for you,
and do what you like."

Hershel the Tax-collector took the Bible in his hand like a man who
knows thoroughly what he is doing. He twisted his little head to one
side, closed one eye, turned and turned the pages, and gave me to read
the first chapter of the "Song of Songs."

"Is it the 'Song of Songs'?" asked my teacher, with a faint smile, as if
he would say: "Could you find nothing more difficult?"

"The 'Song of Songs,'" replied Hershel the Tax-collector. "The 'Song of
Songs' is not as easy as you imagine. One