d make you miserable by filling your little head with
ideas which would bring down upon you the anathemas of your dearest
friends."

There was a pause, during which Mendel worked industriously. Suddenly he
said:

"Might I ask a favor, sir?"

"Certainly, my boy; I shall be happy if I can grant it."

"Let me take one of your books to keep in remembrance of you?"

"You cannot read them; they are written in German and English."

"That does not matter. Their presence would remind me of you. Besides I
might learn to read them."

"But if a strange book is found in your possession it will be taken from
you."

"I will conceal it."

Philip reflected a moment; then carefully selecting two books, he
presented them to the overjoyed boy.

"Remember," he said, "that ignorance is frequently bliss. A Rabbi once
said: 'Beware of the conceit of learning.' It is often well to say, 'I
don't know.'"

Then the American spoke of the difficulties he had experienced in
acquiring an education, how he had worked at a trade by day and gone to
school during the evening. Mendel had a thousand questions to ask, which
Philip answered graciously; but the packing having come to an end, and
Mendel having exhausted his inquiries and finding no further excuse to
remain, the two bade each other an affectionate farewell. Mendel ran
home with his sacred treasures carefully concealed under his blouse, and
with great solicitude he locked them up in an old closet which served as
his wardrobe. The following morning Philip and his parents were escorted
to the limits of the city by the influential Jews of Kief, and the
travellers started upon their long voyage to America.

During the next few weeks Mendel was at his Talmudic studies in the
_jeschiva_ as usual, but there was a decided change in his manner--a
certain listlessness, a lack of interest, which were so apparent that
Rabbi Jeiteles could not but observe them.

"I fear that the boy has been studying too hard," he said to his wife
one day. "We must induce him to take more exercise."

After the close of the lesson, the teacher said:

"Come, Mendel; it is quite a while since we have walked together. Let us
go into the fields."

Mendel, who adored his preceptor, was well pleased to have an
opportunity of relieving his heart of its burden, and gladly accepted
the invitation. For a while the two strolled in silence. The air was
balmy and nature was in her most radiant dress.

"Tell me," at l