eak of
the destruction of our town by fire, of persecution, what you will.
One beggar might be a liar: two together are martyrs."

"Then you beg only in villages?"

"Oh no. But in towns we divide. You do one half, I do another. Then we
exchange halves, armed with the knowledge of who are the beneficent in
either half. It is less fatiguing."

"Then the beneficent have to give twice over."

"They have double merit. Charity breeds charity."

"This is a rare fellow," thought Maimon. "How Lapidoth would delight
in him! And he speaks truth. I know nothing of the country. If I
travel a little with him I may learn much. And he, too, may learn from
me. He has a good headpiece, and I may be able to instil into him more
seemly notions of duty and virtue. Besides, what else can I do?" So,
spinning his thaler in air, "Done!" he cried.

The beggar caught it neatly. "Herr Landlord," said he, "another glass
of your excellent whisky!" And, raising it to his lips when it came,
"Brother, here's to our partnership."

"What, none for me?" cried Maimon, crestfallen.

"Not till you had begged for it," chuckled the _Schnorrer_. "You have
had your first lesson. Herr Landlord, yet another glass of your
excellent whisky!"

And so the philosopher, whose brain was always twisting and turning
the universe and taking it to pieces, started wandering about Germany
with the beggar whose thoughts were bounded by his paunch. They
exploited but a small area, and with smaller success than either had
anticipated. Though now and then they were flush, there was never a
regular meal; and too often they had to make shift with mouldly bread
and water, and to lie on stale straw, and even on the bare earth.

"You don't curse enough," the beggar often protested.

"But why should one curse a man who refuses one's request?" the
philosopher would persist. "Besides, he is embittered thereby, and
only the more likely to refuse."

"Cork your philosophy, curse you!" the beggar would cry. "How often am
I to explain to you that cursing terrifies people."

"Not at all," Maimon would mutter, terrified.

"No? What is Religion, but Fear?"

"False religion, if you will. But true religion, as Maimonides says,
is the attainment of perfection through the knowledge of God and the
imitation of His actions."

Nevertheless, when they begged together, Maimon produced an
inarticulate whine that would do either for a plea or a curse. When he
begged alone, all the glib