The San Francisco call., 1904-06-12

tain our previous cOmtOTlADle 6Nsic OA
living was exhausted. II Is true, tho
community was kind enough TO offer
her some assistance, but she cried
many DAYS thereafter, and said she
would rather starve than become an OBJ
fecf of charity So she bought COW
and sold its milk. and in order 10 make
both ends meet from time 10 time my
mother sold pieces OF furniture from
cur home.
Thus autumn and winter passed and
spring came again. I was kept In
private school. at the cost Of how
much reif-denial on the part OF my
mother ] did not then understand
However. 1 noticed that my mother
grew weaker and weaker during this
time and at length she took TO her
bed Then there came an evening
which Is as memorable 10 me as the
evening on which my father was torn
away from us. The sun had already
dipped into the forest that encircled the
town. the stroke OF the sections mallet
had just sounded-the signal for sun
set cervice" and the shades were be-
ginning 10 fan. ] stood by the window
looking out into our bit OF a garden;
from behind me there came frequently
the coughs and groans Of my mother.
''Yisroelke, my child" sounded the
feeble voice Of my mother.
/ turned and hurried 10 her bed.
There was scarcely tinge OF blood In
her emaciated cheeks; her dim eyes
were overrun with tears. 1 wondered
why she shed tears; our neighbors had
been so good 10 us-had brought US
every morning boiled chicken. fresh
milk and flowers, and the beautiful
boxes and vials that stood on the
window-sill-and yet she wept!
kiss me, my darling" she whis-
pered.
kissed her hand first. then rising on
tiptoe ] pressed my lips TO her chin
which was moist from her weeping.
7 may soon go away" she said with
an effort. "and you viii be left alone
alone" Her spasmodic cough checked
her words.
I could not clearly see how she could
go away when she was scarcely strong
enough 10 move about
Here, my child" she resumed pain
fully a moment later. handing me our
old Testament, dog-eared and yellow
with age. keep this always with you.
This is all can leave you. When you
get older, my child, you viii read II;
and when despair comes 70 you, you
VIII also read IT and gain courage This
is ell your father had when he started
In life: this is all you can leave 70
your children, and this is all they will
leave 10 their offspring. TO the end Of
the race"
A peculiar look spread over my
mothers countenance as she spoke
these enigmatic words; a magic luster
seemed 70 brighten her dim eyes.
After resting a little while she con-
tinued more easily. as II the. words she
had just spoken had greatly relieved
her. ''Yisroelke. II you ever meet your
brother" was a painful pause
remind him OF this book Let him
read these pages. He viii learn that
there is nothing 10 be ashamed OF in HIS
lineage, and VIII come back TO our
fold"
Early the next morning I was wax
ened by sobbing and wailing. / raised
my head and glanced at my mothers
bed II was empty. ] dressed in haste
and hurried 20 the dining-roon. In the
middle Of the floor lay a figure. COW
cred with my mothers quilt Two far
ing candles stuck in our. silver candle
sticks stood at one end Of II. Sitting
on the floor around the figure were sew
eral women. who constantly raised
their voices In lGmentation; a number
OF elderly women were measuring long
strips Of linen and stitching them to-
gether: and a score OF boys chanted
psalms IN a monotonous minor key.
/ looked bewilderingly about the
room Then affected rather by the gen.
eral grief than by any definite realiza-
tion OF its cause. burst into tears and
wept bitterly.
At first no one tried TO console me.
but when the women had finished the
white garment an old man came up TO
me and said: stop crying. Isroel-
chickle 0his was his version Of my
name). and come outside"
Outside there was also a crowd Of
people. little man moved through
the crowd crying ''Zdokol Zdoko!" at
the highest pitch OF his cracked mez-
zo-soprano voice. at the same time
shaking a tin can that contained few
rattling coppers. ''Zdokoi Zdoko!" he
shrieked persistently; and the by
ISLANDERS. as he passed them, dropped
coins OF small value into the contribu-
tion box that he shook beneath their
faces.
In response 20 a cry at the door.
those who stood nearest the porch
crowded back. and the figure had
seen lying on the floor was carried out.
But as the pall-bearers were going to
lift the bier, one OF the elders OF the
community raised his hand to COM
mand attention. and said in g grave
tone. "Rabaci (my superiors), now is
Ea
orphan"
All eyes were turned upon me. I
tried 10 control myself. but the tears
continued 10 flow against my viii.
ITO the best OF my knowledge" the
venerable man continued. the boy has
no relatives in whose care we can place
him. II is incumbent upon the commu-
nifty 20 DO all Il can for him until he is
old enough 70 provide for himself As
there is not a penny left by his mother
4 rmrvocf that the ornhan he ri Oshf nov