, and heard that which he had never heard in his life.
Because you may say that Fishel had never yet taken in anything "out of
doors," he had only perceived it accidentally, by the way, as he hurried
from Cheder to the house-of-study, and from the house-of-study to
Cheder. The beautiful blue Bug between the two lines of imposing hills,
the murmur of the winding rivulets as they poured down the hillsides,
the roar of the ever-deepening spring-flow, the light of the setting
sun, the glittering cupola of the convent, the wholesome smell of
Passover-Eve-tide out of doors, and, above all, the being so close to
home and not able to get there--all these things lent wings, as it were,
to Fishel's spirit, and he was borne into a new world, the world of
imagination, and crossing the Bug seemed the merest trifle, if only the
Almighty were willing to perform a fraction of a miracle on his behalf.

Such and like thoughts floated in and out of Fishel's head, and lifted
him into the air, and so far across the river, he never realized that it
was night, and the stars came out, and a cool wind blew in under his
cloak to his little prayer-scarf, and Fishel was busy with things that
he had never so much as dreamt of: earthly things and Heavenly things,
the great size of the beautiful world, the Almighty as Creator of the
earth, and so on.

Fishel spent a bad night in Prokop's house--such a night as he hoped
never to spend again. The next morning broke with a smile from the
bright and cheerful sun. It was a singularly fine day, and so sweetly
warm that all the snow left melted into kasha, and the kasha, into
water, and this water poured into the Bug from all sides; and the Bug
became clearer, light blue, full and smooth, and the large bits of ice
that looked like dreadful wild beasts, like white elephants hurrying and
tearing along as if they were afraid of being late, grew rarer.

Fishel the teacher recited the Morning Prayer, breakfasted on the last
piece of leavened bread left in his prayer-scarf bag, and went out to
the river to see about the ferry. Imagine his feelings when he heard
that the ferry-boat would not begin running before Sunday afternoon! He
clapped both hands to his head, gesticulated with every limb, and fell
to abusing Prokop. Why had he given him hopes of the ferry-boat's
crossing next day? Whereupon Prokop answered quite coolly that he had
said nothing about crossing with the ferry, he was talking of taking him
acro