rence to the Passover incident, and never even hinted at
his fears of the Passover. Before going away, he said: "Perhaps, friend,
you have something you would like to sell?" "Nothing, 'Lachman,'
nothing." "Old iron, rags, an old sack, or a hide?" "Do not be offended,
'Lachman,' there is nothing. Bad times!" "Bad times? You drank
everything, maybe. Such a festival!" "Who drank? What drank? Bad
times."

The Gentile sighed. Nachman also sighed. They talked of different
things. Nachman would not have the other know that he came only on
business. He left that Gentile, and went to another, to a third, until
he came upon something. He would not return home empty-handed.

Nachman Veribivker, loaded and perspiring, tramped home, thinking only
of one problem--how much he was going to gain or lose that day. He has
forgotten the Passover eve incident. He has forgotten the fears of the
Passover. The clerk, Kuratchka, and his governors and circulars have
gone clean out of the Jew's head.

Let winds blow. Let storms rage. Let the world turn upside down. The old
oak which has been standing since the creation of the world, and whose
roots reach to God-knows-where--what does he care for winds? What are
storms to him?

Elijah the Prophet

It is not good to be an only son, to be fretted over by father and
mother--to be the only one left out of seven. Don't stand here. Don't go
there. Don't drink that. Don't eat the other. Cover up your throat. Hide
your hands. Ah, it is not good--not good at all to be an only son, and a
rich man's son into the bargain. My father is a money changer. He goes
about amongst the shopkeepers with a bag of money, changing copper for
silver, and silver for copper. That is why his fingers are always black,
and his nails broken. He works very hard. Each day, when he comes home,
he is tired and broken down. "I have no feet," he complains to mother.
"I have no feet, not even the sign of a foot." No feet? It may be. But
for that again he has a fine business. That's what the people say. And
they envy us that we have a good business. Mother is satisfied. So am I.
"We shall have a Passover this year, may all the children of Israel have
the like, Father in Heaven!"

That's what my mother said, thanking God for the good Passover. And I
also was thankful. But shall we ever live to see it--this same Passover?

Passover has come at last--the dear sweet Passover. I was dressed as
befitted the son of a man of wea