to him.

"When the workmen come, they are to let them in, do you hear!" he said.
The teacher promised.

"They will come at nine," added Reb Shloimeh.

In a little while he asked to write his will. After writing the will, he
undressed and closed his eyes.

They thought he had fallen asleep, but Reb Shloimeh was not asleep. He
lay and thought, not about his past life, but about the future, the
future in which men would live. He thought of what man would come to be.
He pictured to himself a bright, glad world, in which all men would be
equal in happiness, knowledge, and education, and his dying heart beat a
little quicker, while his face expressed joy and contentment. He opened
his eyes, and saw beside him a couple of teachers.

"And will it really be?" he asked and smiled.

"Yes, Reb Shloimeh," they answered, without knowing to what his question
referred, for his face told them it was something good. The smile
accentuated itself on his lips.

Once again he lost himself in thought.

He wanted to imagine that happy world, and see with his mind's eye
nothing but happy people, educated people, and he succeeded.

The picture was not very distinct. He was imagining a great heap of
happiness--happiness with a body and soul, and he felt _himself_ so
happy.

A sound of lamentation disturbed him.

"Why do they weep?" he wondered. "Every one will have a good
time--everyone!"

He opened his eyes; there were already lights burning. The room was
packed with people. Beside him stood all his children, come together to
take leave of their father.

He fixed his gaze on the little grandchildren, a gaze of love and
gladness.

"_They_ will see the happy time," he thought.

He was just going to ask the people to stop lamenting, but at that
moment his eye caught the workmen of the evening before.

"Come here, come here, children!" and he raised his voice a little, and
made a sign with his head. People did not know what he meant. He begged
them to send the workmen to him, and it was done.

He tried to sit up; those around helped him.

"Thank you--children--for coming--thank you!" he said. "Stop--weeping!"
he implored of the bystanders. "I want to die quietly--I want every one
to--to--be as happy--as I am! Live, all of you, in the--hope of a--good
time--as I die--in--that hope. Dear chil--dren--" and he turned to the
workmen, "I told you--last night--how man has lived so far. How he lives
now, you know for yourselves--but