sing
with which the almighty father has blessed us--our Holy Sabbath. And
ye will take Benjamin.' The pathos of his accents melted every heart.
Tears rolled down many a feminine cheek. Simeon Samuels was seen to
blow his nose softly.

Thus successfully launched, the Rev. Elkan Gabriel proceeded to draw a
tender picture of the love between Israel and his Benjamin,
Sabbath--the one consolation of his exile, and he skilfully worked in
the subsequent verse: 'If mischief befall him by the way on which ye
go, then shall ye bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.'
Yes, it would be the destruction of Israel, he urged, if the Sabbath
decayed. Woe to those sons of Israel who dared to endanger Benjamin.
'From Reuben and _Simeon_ down to Gad and Asher, his life shall be
required at their hands.' Oh, it was a red-hot-cannon-ball-firing
sermon, and Solomon Barzinsky could not resist leaning across and
whispering to the _Parnass_: 'Wasn't I right in refusing to vote for
Rochinsky?' This reminder of his candidate's defeat was wormwood to
the _Parnass_, spoiling all his satisfaction in the sermon. He rebuked
the talker with a noisy '_Shaa_' (silence).

The congregation shrank delicately from looking at the sinner; it
would be too painful to watch his wriggles. His neighbours stared
pointedly every other way. Thus, the only record of his deportment
under fire came from Yankele, the poor glazier's boy, who said that he
kept looking from face to face, as if to mark the effect on the
congregation, stroking his beard placidly the while. But as to his
behaviour after the guns were still, there was no dubiety, for
everybody saw him approach the _Parnass_ in the exodus from synagogue,
and many heard him say in hearty accents: 'I really must congratulate
you, Mr. President, on your selection of your minister.'

VII

'You touched his heart so,' shrieked Solomon Barzinsky an hour later
to the Reverend Elkan Gabriel, 'that he went straight from _Shool_
(synagogue) to his shop.' Solomon had rushed out the first thing after
breakfast, risking the digestion of his Sabbath fish, to call upon the
unsuccessful minister.

'That is not my fault,' said the preacher, crestfallen.

'Yes, it is--if you had only stuck to _my_ text. But no! You must set
yourself up over all our heads.'

'You told me to get in Simeon, and I obeyed.'

'Yes, you got him in. But what did you call him? The Holy Temple! A
fine thing, upon my soul!'

'It was o