accepted
it without a blush--invited him to dine with him every Sabbath, and
sent the boy with him to procure him "a respectable lodging."

As he left the house that afternoon, Maimon could not help overhearing
the high-pitched reproaches of the Rabbitzin (Rabbi's wife).

"There! You've again wasted my housekeeping money on scum and
riff-raff. We shall never get clear of debt."

"Hush! hush!" said the Rabbi gently. "If he hears you, you will wound
the feelings of a great scholar. The money was given to me to
distribute."

"That story has a beard," snapped the Rabbitzin.

"He is a great saint," the boy told Maimon on the way. "He fasts every
day of the week till nightfall, and eats no meat save on Sabbath. His
salary is small, but everybody loves him far and wide; he is named
'the keen scholar.'" Maimon agreed with the general verdict. The
gentle emaciated saint had touched old springs of religious feeling,
and brought tears of more than gratitude to his eyes.

His soul for a moment felt the appeal of that inner world created by
Israel's heart, that beautiful world of tenderest love and sternest
law, wherein The-Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He (who has chosen Israel to
preach holiness among the peoples), mystically enswathed with
praying-shawl and phylacteries, prays to Himself, "May it be My will
that My pity overcome My wrath."

And what was his surprise at finding himself installed, not in some
mean garret, but in the study of one of the leading Jews of the town.
The climax was reached when he handed some coppers to the housewife,
and asked her to get him some gruel for supper.

"Nay, nay," said the housewife, smiling. "The Chief Rabbi has not
recommended us to sell you gruel. My husband and my son are both
scholars, and so long as you choose to tarry at Posen they will be
delighted if you will honor our table."

Maimon could scarcely believe his ears; but the evidence of a
sumptuous supper was irrefusable. And after that he was conducted to a
clean bed! O the luxurious ache of stretching one's broken limbs on
melting feathers! the nestling ecstasy of dainty-smelling sheets
after half a year of outhouses!

It was the supreme felicity of his life. To wallow in such a wave of
happiness had never been his before, was never to be his again.
Shallow pates might prate, he told himself, but what pleasure of the
intellect could ever equal that of the senses? Could it possibly
pleasure him as much even to fulfil his early