raying!" and Cheike turned delightedly to her husband.
"His soul is piously inclined!"

Selig made no reply, he only gazed at his Kaddish with a beaming face.
Then an idea came into his head: Alterke will be a Tzaddik, will help
him out of all his difficulties in the other world.

"Mame, I want to eat!" wailed Alterke, suddenly.

He was given a piece of the white bread which was laid aside, for him
only, every Sabbath.

Alterke began to eat.

"Who bringest forth! Who bringest forth!" called out Reb Selig.

"Tan't!" answered the child.

"It is time you taught him to say grace," observed Cheike.

And Reb Selig drew Alterke to him and began to repeat with him.

"Say: Boruch."

"Bo'uch," repeated the child after his fashion.

"Attoh."

"Attoh."

When Alterke had finished "Who bringest forth," Cheike answered piously
Amen, and Reb Selig saw Alterke, in imagination, standing in the
synagogue and repeating Kaddish, and heard the congregation answer
Amen, and he felt as though he were already seated in the Garden of
Eden.

* * * * *

Another year went by, and Reb Selig was feeling very poorly. Spring had
come, the snow had melted, and he found the wet weather more trying than
ever before. He could just drag himself early to the synagogue, but
going to the afternoon service had become a difficulty, and he used to
recite the afternoon and later service at home, and spend the whole
evening with Alterke.

It was late at night. All the houses were shut. Reb Selig sat at his
little table, and was looking into the corner where Cheike's bed stood,
and where Alterke slept beside her. Selig had a feeling that he would
die that night. He felt very tired and weak, and with an imploring look
he crept up to Alterke's crib, and began to wake him.

The child woke with a start.

"Alterke"--Reb Selig was stroking the little head--"come to me for a
little!"

The child, who had had his first sleep out, sprang up, and went to his
father.

Reb Selig sat down in the chair which stood by the little table with the
open Gemoreh, lifted Alterke onto the table, and looked into his eyes.

"Alterke!"

"What, Tate?"

"Would you like me to die?"

"Like," answered the child, not knowing what "to die" meant, and
thinking it must be something nice.

"Will you say Kaddish after me?" asked Reb Selig, in a strangled voice,
and he was seized with a fit of coughing.

"Will say!" promised the child.