The day following the events in the _kretschma_, little Jacob had wandered, in company with some Christian playmates, through the village, and seeing the door of a barn wide open, his childish curiosity got the better of his discretion, and he peeped in. A brindled cow, with a pretty calf scarcely three days old, attracted his attention, and for some minutes he gazed upon the pair in silent ecstasy. Then, knowing that he was on forbidden ground, he retraced his steps and endeavored to reach the lane where he had left his companions. The master of the farm, however, having witnessed the intrusion from a neighboring window, did not lose the opportunity to vent his anger against the whole tribe of inquisitive Jews. On the following day the cow ran dry. In vain did the calf seek nourishment at the maternal breast; there was nothing to satisfy its cravings.

The farmer, slow as he was in matters of general importance, was far from slow in tracing the melancholy occurrence to its supposed source.

"That accursed Jew has bewitched my cow," was his first thought, and his second was to find the author of the deed and mete out punishment to him.

Throughout the whole of Russia, and even in parts of civilized Germany, Jews are accused of all manner of sorcery. The _Cabala_ is the princ.i.p.al religious authority of the lower cla.s.ses among the Russian Jews, and this may perhaps inspire such a preposterous notion. The Jews, themselves, frequently believe that some one of their own number is in possession of supernatural secrets which give him wonderful and awful powers. Many were the tortures which these poor people were doomed to endure for their supposed influence over nature's laws.

It was an easy matter to find little Jacob. His hours at the _cheder_ (school) were over. He was sure to be playing upon the streets, and his capture was quickly effected. Seizing the innocent little fellow by the arm, the irate peasant lifted him off his feet, and dragged him by sheer force into the barn, where he confronted the malefactor with his victim.

"So, you thought you could bewitch my cow," he hissed. "But I saw you, Jew, and, by our holy Czar, I swear that, unless you repair the damage, I shall feed your carca.s.s to the dogs."

Poor Jacob was too terrified to understand of what crime he had been accused. He looked piteously at his tormentor, and burst into tears.

"Well?" cried the peasant, impatiently; "will you take off the spell, or shall I call my dog?"

The child, knowing that such threats were not made in vain, endeavored to plead his innocence, but the bellowing of the hungry calf outweighed the sobbing of the boy, and with an angry oath Jacob was struck to the ground, and a ferocious bull-dog, but little more brutal than his master, was set upon the helpless little fellow.

"Please, Mr. Farmer, don't kill me," he pleaded, groaning in pain.

"Will you cure my cow?" demanded the peasant.

"I'll try to; I'll do my best," sobbed the boy, whose pain made him diplomatic at last.

The dog was called off, and the child, after promising to restore the cow to her former condition, was turned out into the lane, where his mother found him an hour later, unconscious, his body lacerated, one arm broken, and a portion of his right ear torn off.

When Reb Mordecai concluded his sad narration, all about him were in tears.

"Just G.o.d!" exclaimed the uncle; "hast Thou indeed deserted Thy people, that Thou canst allow such indignities? How long, O Lord! must we endure these torments?"

"Nay, brother," sobbed the poor mother, while she caressed her ailing boy; "what G.o.d does is for the best. It is not for us to peer into his inscrutable actions. But come, Mordecai, banish your sorrows. This is _Shabbes_, a day of joy and peace. Come, the table is spread."

Father and mother placed their hands upon the heads of their children, and p.r.o.nounced the solemn blessing:--"May G.o.d let you become like Ephraim and Mana.s.seh!" and the family took their places at the table.

Then Mordecai made _kiddush_, which consisted in blessing the wine, without which no Jewish Sabbath is complete, and having p.r.o.nounced _motzi_, a similar prayer over the bread, he dipped the latter in salt, and pa.s.sed a small piece to each of the partic.i.p.ants. It is a ceremony which no pious Jew ever neglects.

In spite of the recent affliction, the meal was a merry one. The poorest Israelite will deny himself even the necessaries of life during the six working-days, that he may live well on the Sabbath. Reb Mordecai was a poor man. He had a small income, derived from teaching the Talmud to the children in the vicinity, from transcribing the holy scrolls, and from sundry bits of work for which he was fitted by his intellectual attainments. He was the most influential Jew in the settlement and not even the fanatical serfs of the village could find a complaint to make against his character or person.

The theme of conversation was naturally the family festival, which would take place upon the morrow. Mendel having attained his thirteenth year and acquired due proficiency in the difficult studies of the Jewish law, would become _bar-mitzvah_; in other words, he would take upon himself the responsibility of a man before G.o.d and the world, and acknowledge his readiness to act and suffer for the maintenance of the belief in _Adonai Echod_--the only G.o.d. Mendel, under his father's tuition, had made rapid strides. He was the wonder of every male inhabitant of the community. His knowledge of the Scriptures was simply phenomenal, and his philosophical reasoning puzzled and astonished his friends.

"He will be a great rabbi some day," they prophesied.

Hirsch Bensef had journeyed all the way from Kief to take part in the family festival. There were some privileges which not even the wealthy Jews of Russia could purchase, and among them was the right to travel in a public conveyance. Hirsch was obliged to journey as best he could. A kindly disposed wagoner had permitted him to ride part of the way, but the greater portion of the distance he was compelled to walk. Still, at any cost, he had determined not to miss so important an event as his nephew's _bar-mitzvah_.

The bread having been broken, the supper was proceeded with. The fish was succulent and the cake delicious. A lofty and religious Sabbath sentiment enhanced the charm of the whole meal. Then a prayer of thanks was offered, the dishes were cleared away and the family settled themselves at ease, to discuss the topics most dear to them.

"You make a great mistake, sister," said Bensef, "if you allow Mendel to waste his time in this village. The boy is much too bright for his surroundings."

"Don't begin that subject again," said the mother, determinedly; "for I positively will not hear of his leaving. The parting would kill me."

"But," continued her brother, "have you ever asked yourself what his future will be in this wretched neighborhood? Shall he waste his precious years helping his father teach _cheder_? Shall he earn a few paltry kopecks in making _tzitzith_ (fringes for the praying scarfs) for the _Jehudim_ in the village? Or, shall he cobble shoes or peddle from place to place with a bundle upon his back, which are the only two occupations open to the despised race?"

"Alas!" sighed the mother, "what you say may be true. But what would you propose for the boy?"

"Let him go with me to Kief. There are nearly fifteen thousand of our co-religionists in that city; and, while their lot is not an enviable one, it is decidedly better than vegetating in a village. Our celebrated Rabbi Jeiteles is getting old and we will soon need a successor. It is an honorable position and one which our little Mendel will some day be able to fill. Would you not like living in a big city, my boy?"

Mendel hovered between filial affection and a desire to see the big world. It was difficult to decide.

"I should like to remain with father and mother--and Jacob," he stammered, "and yet----"

"And yet," continued his uncle, "you would love to come to Kief, where everything is grand and brilliant, where the stores and booths are fairly alive with light and beauty, where the soldiers parade every day in gorgeous uniforms. Ah, my boy, there is life for you!"

"But how much of that life may the Jews enjoy?" asked Mordecai. "Are they not restricted in their privileges and deprived of every possibility of rising in station? Is their lot any happier than ours in this village, where, at all events, we are not troubled with the envy which the sight of so much luxury must bring with it?"

"It will not always be so," said Bensef, confidently. "With each year we may expect reforms, and where will they strike first if not in the cities? Nicholas already has plans under consideration, whereby the condition of the serfs may be bettered."

"How will that benefit our race?"

"How? I will tell you. The serf persecutes the Jew because he is himself persecuted by the n.o.bility. There is no real animosity between the peasant and his Jewish neighbors. Our wretched state is the outgrowth of a petty tyranny, in which the serf desires to imitate his superiors. Let the people once enjoy freedom and they will cease to persecute the Hebrews, without whom they cannot exist."

"Absurd ideas," interrupted the teacher. "Our degradation proceeds not from the people, but from those in authority. Our lot will not improve until the Messiah comes with sword in hand, to deliver us from our enemies. Remember the proverb: 'The heavens are far, but further the Czar.'"

"But about Mendel?" asked Bensef, suddenly reverting to his original topic, for in spite of his hopeful theories, he did not feel sanguine that he would live to see their realization.

"The matter is not pressing," said the father. "We can think it over, and decide before you return to Kief."

"No, no!" cried Leah; "Mendel must not leave us. Promise to remain, my child!"

But the boy was now delighted with the idea of accompanying his uncle.

He asked a thousand questions concerning the wonderful town of Kief, which suddenly became the goal of all his hopes and ambitions.

Bensef took the boy upon his lap and told him all about the great city, which had once been the capital of Russia. Mendel listened and sighed.

His eyes beamed with pleasurable antic.i.p.ation. Before going to bed, he threw his arms about his mother's neck.

"Mother," he whispered; "let me go to Kief. I want to become great."

Leah held him in a convulsive embrace, but said nothing.

The morrow was Sat.u.r.day--Sabbath morning. The little synagogue was crowded with an expectant throng. It was long since there had been a _bar-mitzvah_ in Togarog, and Israelites came from all the villages in the vicinity to witness the happy event. Happy seemed the men, arrayed in their white _tallesim_ (praying scarfs)--happy at the thought of another member being added to their ranks. Happy appeared the mothers in the reflection that their sons, too, would some day be admitted to the holy rite. When Mendel finally mounted the _almemor_ (pulpit), and began his _Bar'chu eth Adonai_, the audience scarcely breathed.

Like a finished scholar did Mendel recite his _sidrah_, that portion of the _Torah_ or Law which was appropriate to the day. This was followed by the _drosha_, a well-committed speech, expressive of grat.i.tude to his parents and teachers, and full of beautiful promises of a future that should be pleasant in the eyes of the Lord. The words fell from his lips as though inspired. It was a proud moment for the boy's parents. Their tears mingled with their smiles. Forgotten were hardships and persecutions. G.o.d still held happiness in reserve for his chosen people.

When the boy concluded his exercises, kisses and congratulations were showered upon him by his admiring friends.

"Hirsch Bensef is right," said Mordecai to his wife. "Mendel ought to go to some large city. He has wonderful talents. He may become a great rabbi. Who can tell?"

"We shall see; we shall see!" replied his wife, with a look of mingled pleasure and pain. But she did not say her husband was in the wrong.

In the afternoon the entire congregation visited Reb Mordecai, so that the little house scarcely held all the people. The men came with their long _caftans_, the women with their black silk robes, their prettiest wigs, and strings of pearls; and one and all brought presents, tokens of their esteem. Naturally, Mendel was the centre of attraction. His present, past and future were discussed. A brilliant career was predicted for him, and he was held up as a model to his juniors.

Little Jacob was also the recipient of attentions from young and old.