"Bring the Gemoreh, Efroim, and let me hear what you can do!"
And Froike recites his lesson like the bright boy he is, and Fishel listens and corrects, and his heart expands and overflows with delight, his soul rejoices— a bright boy, Froike, a treasure!
"If you want to go to the bath, there is a shirt ready for you!"
Thus Bath-sheba as she passes hin, still not venturing to look him in the face, and Fishel has a sensation of unspeakable comfort, he feels like a man escaped from prison and back in a lightsome world, among those who are near and dear to him. And he sees in fancy a very, very hot bath-house, and himself lying on the highest bench with other Jews, and he perspires and swishes himself with the birch twigs, and can never have enough.
Home from the bath, fresh and lively as a fish, like one newborn, he rehearses the portion of the Law for the festival, puts on the Sabbath cloak and the new girdle, steals a glance at Bath-sheba in her new dress and silk kerchief—still a pretty woman, and so pious and good!—and goes with Froike to the Shool. The air is full of Sholom Alechems, "Welcome, Reb Fishel the teacher, and what are you about?"—"A teacher teaches!'—"What is the news?"—"What should it be? The world is the world!'—"What is going on in Balta?" —Balta is Balta."
The same formula is repeated every time, every halfyear, and Nissel the reader begins to recite the evening prayers, and sends forth his voice, the further the
