nt was made upon the light soil. The farmer pointed significantly
to the barnyard.

"I make him good," he said. Across the road was a large house with a
pretentious dooryard and evergreen hedges. A Gentile farmer with many
acres lived in it. The lean fields promised but poor crops. The
neighborhood knew that he never paid anything on his mortgage;
claimed, in fact, that he could not.

"Ah!" said Mr. Sabsovich, emerging from a wrangle with his client
about matters agricultural, "he has not learned to 'make him good.'
Come over to the school, and I will show you stock. You can't afford
to keep poor cows. They cost too much."

The other shook his head energetically. "Them's the seven finest cows
in the country," he yelled after us as we started. The superintendent
laughed a little.

"You see what they are--stubborn; will have their way in an argument.
But that fellow will be over to Woodbine before the week is out, to
see what he can learn. He is not going to let me crow if he can help
it. Not to be driven, they can be led, though it is not always easy.
Suspicious, hard at driving a bargain as the Russian Jew is, I
sometimes think I can see his better nature coming out already."

As we drove along, I thought so, too, more than once. From every farm
and byway came men to have a word with the superintendent. For me they
had a sidelong look, and a question, put in Hebrew. To the answer they
often shook their heads, demanding another. After such a conference, I
asked what it was about.

"You," said Mr. Sabsovich. "They are asking, 'Who is he?' I tell them
that you are not a Jew. This is the answer they give: 'I don't care if
he is a Jew. Is he a good man?'"

Over the supper table that night, I caught the burning eyes of a young
nihilist fixed upon me with a look I have not yet got over. I had been
telling of my affection for the Princess Dagmar, whom I knew at
Copenhagen in my youth. I meant it as something we had in common; she
became Empress of Russia in after years. I forgot that it was by
virtue of marrying Alexander III. I heard afterward that he protested
vehemently that I could not possibly be a good man. Well for me I did
not tell him my opinion of the Czar himself! It was gleaned from
Copenhagen, where they thought him the prince of good fellows.

At Carmel I found the hands in the clothing factory making from $10 to
$13 a week at human hours, and the population growing. Forty families
had come from Philadel