or whose approach trials, misery and persecution were but a necessary
preparation, has been the great secret of Israel's strength and
endurance.

During the evening, a number of Bensef's intimate friends visited the
house and were told Mendel's history. The news of his arrival soon
spread through the community, awakening everywhere the liveliest
sympathy. Many parents had been bereft of their children in the
self-same way and still mourned the absence of their first-born, whom
the cruel decree of Nicholas had condemned to the rigors of some
military outpost. Mendel became the hero of Kief, while he lay tossing
in bed, a prey to high fever.

In spite of the care that was lavished upon him, he steadily grew worse.
Fear, hunger, exposure and self-reproach had been too much for his
youthful frame. For several days Miriam administered her humble
house-remedies, but they were powerless to relieve his sufferings. The
hot tea which he was made to drink, only served to augment the fever.

On the fifth day, Mendel was decidedly in a dangerous condition. He was
delirious. The doctors in the Jewish community were consulted, but were
powerless to effect a cure. Bensef and his wife were in despair.

"What shall we do?" said Miriam, sadly. "We cannot let the boy die."

"Die?" cried Hirsch, becoming pale at the thought. "Oh, God, do not take
the boy! He has wound himself about my heart. Oh, God, let him live!"

"Come, husband, praying is of little avail," answered his practical
wife; "we must have a _feldsher_" (doctor).

"A _feldsher_ in the Jewish community? Why, Miriam, are you out of your
mind? Have you forgotten how, when Rabbi Jeiteles was lying at the point
of death, no amount of persuasion could induce a doctor to come into the
quarter. 'Let the Jews die,' they answered to our entreaties; 'there
will still be too many of them!'"

Miriam sighed. She remembered it well.

"What persuasion would not do, money may accomplish," she said, after a
pause. "Hirsch, that boy must not die. He must live to be a credit to us
and a comfort to our old age. You have money--what gentile ever
resisted it?"

"I will do what I can," said the man, gloomily. "But even though I could
bring one to the house, what good can he do. It is merely an experiment
with the best of them. They will take our money, make a few magical
incantations, prescribe a useless drug, and leave their patient to the
mercy of Fate."

Hirsch Bensef was right. At the