He had made up his mind to go to the principal Jewish citizen in Wilna, only he must be a good scholar, so as to understand what Reb Nochumtzi had to say to him.
They advised him to go to the president of the Congregation. Every street along which he passed astonished him separately, the houses, the pavements, the droshkis and carriages, and especially the people, so beautifully got up with gold watch—chains and rings he was quite bewildered, so that he was afraid he might lose his senses, and forget all his arguments and his reasonings. At last he arrived at the president's house.
"He lives on the first floor." Another surprise! Reb Nochumtzi was unused to stairs. There was no storied house in all Pumpian! But when you must, you must! One way and another he managed to arrive at the first-floor landing, where he opened the door, and said, all in one breath: "I am the Pumpian Rav, and have something to say to the president." The president, a handsome old man, very busy just then with some merchants who had come on business, stood up, greeted him politely, and opening the door of the reception room said to him:
"Please, Rabbi, come in here and wait a little. I shall soon have finished, and then I will come to you here."
Expensive furniture, large mirrors, pictures, softly upholstered chairs, tables, cupboards with shelves full of great silver candlesticks, cups, knives and forks, a
