y per cent. But
what then? Any Jew who wished his son to enter must bring his Christian
with him, and if he passes, that is, the Christian, and one pays his
entrance fee, then there is hope. Instead of one bundle, one has two on
one's shoulders, you understand? Besides being worn with anxiety about
my own, I had to tremble for the other, because if Esau, which Heaven
forbid, fail to pass, it's all over with Jacob. But what I went through
before I _got_ that Christian, a shoemaker's son, Holiava his name was,
is not to be described. And the best of all was this--would you believe
that my shoemaker, planted in the earth firmly as Korah, insisted on
Bible teaching? There was nothing for it but my son had to sit down
beside his, and repeat the Old Testament. How came a son of mine to the
Old Testament? Ai, don't ask! He can do everything and understands
everything.

With God's help the happy day arrived, and they both passed. Is my story
finished? Not quite. When it came to their being entered in the books,
to writing out a check, my Christian was not to be found! What has
happened? He, the Gentile, doesn't care for his son to be among so many
Jews--he won't hear of it! Why should he, seeing that all doors are open
to him anyhow, and he can get in where he pleases? Tell him it isn't
fair? Much good that would be! "Look here," say I, "how much do you
want, Pani Holiava?" Says he, "Nothing!" To cut the tale short--up and
down, this way and that way, and friends and people interfering, we had
him off to a refreshment place, and ordered a glass, and two, and three,
before it all came right! Once he was really in, I cried my eyes out,
and thanks be to Him whose Name is blessed, and who has delivered me out
of all my troubles! When I got home, a fresh worry! What now? My wife
has been reflecting and thinking it over: After all, her only son, the
apple of her eye--he would be _there_ and we _here_! And if so, what,
says she, would life be to her? "Well," say I, "what do you propose
doing?"--"What I propose doing?" says she. "Can't you guess? I propose,"
says she, "to be with him."--"You do?" say I. "And the house? What about
the house?"--"The house," says she, "is a house." Anything to object to
in that? So she was off to him, and I was left alone at home. And what a
home! I leave you to imagine. May such a year be to my enemies! My
comfort was gone, the business went to the bad. Everything went to the
bad, and we were continually