found plenty of comfort in writing long letters to my
father--real, original letters this time, not copies of Reb' Isaiah's
model--letters which my father treasured for years.

As an instance of what I mean by my own fashion of taking trouble to
heart, I recall the day when our household effects were attached for a
debt. We had plenty of debts, but the stern creditor who set the law
on us this time was none of ours. The claim was against a family to
whom my mother sublet two of our three rooms, furnished with her own
things. The police officers, who swooped down upon us without warning,
as was their habit, asked no questions and paid no heed to
explanations. They affixed a seal to every lame chair and cracked
pitcher in the place; aye, to every faded petticoat found hanging in
the wardrobe. These goods, comprising all our possessions and all our
tenant's, would presently be removed, to be sold at auction, for the
benefit of the creditor.

Lame chairs and faded petticoats, when they are the last one has, have
a vital value in the owner's eyes. My mother moved about, weeping
distractedly, all the while the officers were in the house. The
frightened children cried. Our neighbors gathered to bemoan our
misfortune. And over everything was the peculiar dread which only Jews
in Russia feel when agents of the Government invade their homes.

The fear of the moment was in my heart, as in every other heart there.
It was a horrid, oppressive fear. I retired to a quiet corner to
grapple with it. I was not given to weeping, but I must think things
out in words. I repeated to myself that the trouble was all about
money. Somebody wanted money from our tenant, who had none to give.
Our furniture was going to be sold to make this money. It was a
mistake, but then the officers would not believe my mother. Still, it
was only about money. Nobody was dead, nobody was ill. It was all
about _money_. Why, there was plenty of money in Polotzk! My own uncle
had many times as much as the creditor claimed. He could buy all our
things back, or somebody else could. What did it matter? It was only
_money_, and money was got by working, and we were all willing to
work. There was nothing gone, nothing lost, as when somebody died.
This furniture could be moved from place to place, and so could money
be moved, and nothing was lost out of the world by the transfer.
_That_ was all. If anybody--

Why, what do I see at the window? Breine Malke, our next-