e and observing
the poor half-starved creature struggling and whining for relief.

"Yes, it is sick. God knows whether it will recover. It is dying of
hunger and thirst and I have no money to buy it medicines or
nourishment."

"Does your husband earn nothing?"

"Very little. There have been no funerals and no weddings for several
months."

"Can you not earn anything?"

"How can I? I must cook for my little ones and watch my ailing child."

"Are your children of no service to you?"

"My oldest girl, Beile, is but seven years old. She does all she can to
help me, but it is not much," answered Jentele, irritably.

Hirsch sighed heavily and drawing out his purse, he placed a gold coin
in the woman's hand.

"Here, take this," he said, "and provide for the child." He thought of
Mendel at home and tears almost blinded him. "Carry the boy out into the
air; this atmosphere is enough to kill a healthy person. Well, God be
with you!" and Hirsch hurriedly left the the house.

He found the man he was seeking at the synagogue. Poverty and privation,
hunger and care, had undertaken the duties of time and had converted
this person into a decrepit ruin while yet in the prime of life.

Without unnecessary delay, for great was the need of haste, Hirsch
unfolded his plans, and Itzig, in consideration of a sum of money,
consented to undertake the journey at once. The money, destined as a
gift to the _bal-shem_, was securely strapped about his waist, and
arrangements were made with a _moujik_, who was going part of the way,
to carry Itzig on his wagon.

"Get there as soon as possible, and by all means before _Shabbes_!" were
Bensef's parting words.

In the meantime not a little sympathy was manifested for the unfortunate
lad. Bensef's house was crowded during the entire day. Every visitor
brought a slight token of love--a cake, a cup of jelly, a leg of a
chicken; but Mendel could eat nothing and the good things remained
untouched. There was no lack of advice as to the boy's treatment.
Everyone had a recipe or a drug to offer, all of which Miriam wisely
refused to administer. There was at one time quite a serious dispute in
the room adjoining the sick-chamber. Hinka Kierson, a stout, red-faced
matron, asserted that cold applications were most efficacious in fevers
of this nature, while Chune Benefski, whose son had had a similar
attack, and who was therefore qualified to speak upon the subject,
insisted that cold applications