s.

He could find no stain on his life--it was one long record of deeds of
charity; but they appeared to him now so insignificant, so useless, and
some of them even mischievous. Looking round him, he saw no traces of
them left. The rich man of whom he used to beg donations is no poorer
for them, and the pauper for whom he begged them is the same pauper as
before. It is true, he had always thought of the paupers as sacks full
of holes, and had only stuffed things into them because he had a soft
heart, and could not bear to see a look of disappointment, or a tear
rolling down the pale cheek of a hungry pauper. His own little world, as
he had found it and as it was now, seemed to him much worse than before,
in spite of all the good things he had done in it.

Not one good rich man! Not one genuine pauper! They are all just as
hungry and their palms itch--there is no easing them. Times get harder,
the world gets poorer. Now he understands the reason of it all, now it
all lies before him as clear as on a map--he would be able to make every
one understand. Only now--now it was getting late--he has no strength
left. His spent life grieves him. If he had not been so active, such a
"father of the community," it would not have grieved him so much. But he
_had_ had a great influence in the town, and this influence had been
badly, blindly used! And Reb Shloimeh grew sadder day by day.

He began to feel a pain at his heart, a stitch in the side, a burning in
his brain, and he was wrapt in his thoughts. Reb Shloimeh was
philosophizing.

To be of use to somebody, he reflected, means to leave an impress of
good in their life. One ought to help once for all, so that the other
need never come for help again. That can be accomplished by wakening and
developing a man's intelligence, so that he may always know for himself
wherein his help lies.

And in such work he would have spent his life. If he had only understood
long ago, ah, how useful he would have been! And a shudder runs through
him.

Tears of vexation come more than once into his eyes.

* * * * *

It was no secret in the town that old Reb Shloimeh spent two to three
hours daily sitting with the teacher, only what they did together, that
nobody knew. They tried to worm something out of the maid, but what was
to be got out of a "glomp with two eyes," whose one reply was, "I don't
know." They scolded her for it. "How can you not know, glomp?" th