accompanied by a
letter. This was the letter:

"DEAR SIR:

"Your man called upon me last night, asking for payment for four
advertisements of my Passover groceries. But I have changed my mind
about them and do not want them; and therefore beg to return the
four numbers sent me You will see I have not opened them or soiled
them in any way, so please cancel the claim in your books.

"Yours truly,

"ISAAC WOLLBERG."

"He evidently thinks the vouchers sent him _are_ the advertisements,"
screamed little Sampson.

"But if he is as ignorant as all that, how could he have written the
letter?" asked Raphael.

"Oh, it was probably written for him for twopence by the Shalotten
_Shammos_, the begging-letter writer."

"This is almost as funny as Karlkammer!" said Raphael.

Karlkammer had sent in a long essay on the Sabbatical Year question,
which Raphael had revised and published with Karlkammer's title at the
head and Karlkammer's name at the foot. Yet, owing to the few
rearrangements and inversions of sentences, Karlkammer never identified
it as his own, and was perpetually calling to inquire when his article
would appear. He brought with him fresh manuscripts of the article as
originally written. He was not the only caller; Raphael was much
pestered by visitors on kindly counsel bent or stern exhortation. The
sternest were those who had never yet paid their subscriptions. De Haan
also kept up proprietorial rights of interference. In private life
Raphael suffered much from pillars of the Montagu Samuels type, who
accused him of flippancy, and no communal crisis invented by little
Sampson ever equalled the pother and commotion that arose when Raphael
incautiously allowed him to burlesque the notorious _Mordecai Josephs_
by comically exaggerating its exaggerations. The community took it
seriously, as an attack upon the race. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Goldsmith were
scandalized, and Raphael had to shield little Sampson by accepting the
whole responsibility for its appearance.

"Talking of Karlkammer's article, are you ever going to use up Herman's
scientific paper?" asked little Sampson.

"I'm afraid so," said Raphael; "I don't know how we can get out of it.
But his eternal _kosher_ meat sticks in my throat. We are Jews for the
love of God, not to be saved from consumption bacilli. But I won't use
it to-morrow; we have Miss Cissy Levine's tale. It's not half bad. What
a pity she has th